The Tower of the True Immortal

Immortality is not actually that hard to achieve. It’s not exactly easy, of course, but it’s about as difficult as it is to go to space in our world. It’s well within the reach of a powerful wizard, if they invest enough time and resources, but most don’t bother.

Much like going to space, it’s a lot of effort, and what are you going to do when you get there?

The Two Lifespans

Philosophers and wizards have known for millenia that there is a lifespan of the body and a lifespan of the mind. They usually line up pretty neatly, which some might say is a blessing. Extending the life of the body is what some would call immortality, but there’s a big difference between living forever and not dying.

Say you achieve immortality, and you’ve managed to keep your mortal body (and not liquified your brain in the process). You now have all the time in the world to do everything you could ever want! The world is your oyster!

In a few centuries, however, you will have done everything you could ever want. You’ve tried every rare food, every vintage wine, gorged on every luxury, tried every possible combination and variation of sexual indulgence. Maybe you’ve made incredible discoveries, led vast armies, played at influencing the course of empires.

And now, you’re bored. Not bored in the way that mortals understand. Mortal ennui is but a mild headache compared to the soul-crushing ache that consumes you now. Your palette is hopelessly refined, your desire for stimulation unceasing, and nothing can satisfy you any more. Your mind slowly begins to die.

At this point, you generally stop being immortal. Either you’ll deliberately undo whatever is keeping your body alive so you can finally die, or you’ll do something so wildly, recklessly desperate to feel something that you’ll destroy yourself in the process (surely the feeling of being subsumed in lava would be a new sensation, right?).

So, most people who can become immortal don’t bother. They may extend their lifespans for a little while to finish up a piece of work or achieve a personal goal, but anything beyond that is rare. The few that do cling to life don’t last very long, at least compared to the vastness of time.

There is, however, one true immortal, known as (aptly enough) Lady Kaoshae the Immortal.

Mosquito Reproduction

Lady Kaoshae was originally a hedge wizard from the southern end of the Dragon’s spine. The climate there is hot and humid, and as a result, there are a lot of mosquitoes.

Everyone there hates them. A lot of effort goes into keeping them at bay or getting rid of them. Most people don’t bother studying them much, except while answering the question “how can I kill these blasted things more efficiently?”

Lady Kaoshae, however, decided to study them. You never know what you might find it you look into things other people consider a waste of time (a topic I’ll return to at length another time). It is a great cosmic joke that, while studying these annoying, apparently inconsequential insects, she discovered the secret to staying immortal indefinitely¹.

Natural philosophers have known for a long time that the gods intend the female to be the true representative of a species. Males exist purely to transport and recombine bloodlines between females. Why else do males of so many species engage in such dangerous and pointless rituals to attract the attention of females? It is quite self-evident, they say, and that is why almost all the philosophers are men, because men can afford to spend their time on such activities as deep thinking and reasoning. It is truly a burden, they say wearily, and then have another sip of brandy and go back to debating the true nature of goblins while the kitchen staff at the academy prepare tonight’s Châteaubriand in red wine sauce.

Anyway…

Most of the species Kaoshae studied were uninteresting, but one rare species seemed to only be female. At first she assumed she just hadn’t seen a male specimen of this species yet, but as time went on, she started to wonder if there was more to this. Kaoshae kept several of the females isolated in a jar, and they went on to lay eggs after being provided with blood. She continued to isolate the offspring, and yet they also laid eggs after being provided with blood.

Parthenogenesis is not unknown in nature, but is very rare and not usually viable in mosquito populations², and yet these specimens seemed fine. Lady Kaoshae was intrigued. This species also produced a mild ennui in subjects after feeding on them. Something odd was going on here.

After years of research involving some very unsettling experiments and very, very careful dissections, she was finally able to prove what she’d begun to suspect a long time ago. These mosquitoes were using the blood of other creatures not just for sustenance, but also extracting some of their very essence to fertilize their eggs. In her words, “these most curious specimens seem to be extracting the very vitalness and meaning of those that they feast upon to bestow life upon their descendants”.

The next questions were obvious: if they could extract “meaningfulness”, could she use them to do the same? And if so, could she take it for herself?

The Mercies of Ennui

Her tower has stood for centuries in the swamp, over a mile from the nearest town. It has become a site of something akin to pilgrimage for the ruined, the broken-hearted, and the despairing. Lady Kaoshae will receive them on the third and ninth day of every new moon, and listen to what troubles them intently. She makes careful notes, checks their pulse and performs little rituals on samples of their blood. After a while, she ushers them into a small chamber at the heart of the tower.

When they return to their family and friends, they are strangely calm. Whatever all-consuming feeling dominated their existence is still present, but somehow muted. The spurned lover will calmly greet the object of their affection in passing; the ruined shop-owner will take a job sweeping their rival’s store with only a slight wistfulness.

There are rumours that Lady Kaoshae also receives other, less willing visitors. The locals whisper about people delivered, tightly bound and gagged on her doorstep who are never seen again, and the strange shambling shells of humanity that are sometimes seen around her tower, scratching listlessly at the ruined mess of welts that cover their skin.

Of course, no-one ever asks her about it. She is a generous if aloof member of their little community, and she brings trade to the town. Besides, if it happens, and they’re not saying it does, you shouldn’t believe rumours and all that, but if it were true, well, it’s only outsiders, right? They probably did something to deserve it. Best to just let it lie. She’s probably got her reasons.

The Lady Herself

Her appearance is vague at best. She’s had hundreds of years to practice her magics, and at this point, the idea of what she “really” looks like is a bit silly. Besides, she’s forgotten what she started out like anyway, and doesn’t really care. Her skin is black and her eyes are a curious gold-green, but that’s really all that stays consistent.

If she’s trying to look imposing, Lady Kaoshae will be tall with fulsome curves and wearing fine white robes with an impassive golden mask over regal features. If you catch her when she’s just pottering around her tower, she’s likely to be tall, lanky and vaguely androgynous; essentially the body equivalent of the comfy sweater and jeans. If you enter her tower without permission or otherwise piss her off, she’s a nightmarish thing of skittering limbs, talons and needle-sharp teeth.

In the Game

Lady Kaoshae can fit into your game in a number of ways. She’s not necessarily evil, but she’s definitely up to something. Being up to something is mandatory if you’ve been alive for a few centuries, after all. On the other hand, she’d be an excellent villain if you feel like it.

If the players encounter one of her less fortunate experimental subjects, they look a lot like zombies. Their skin is a mess, they only vocalise indistinct moans and they can’t move faster than a shamble. Play this up, and then have fun describing the fresh, red blood that spills when they’re wounded.

If a character is bitten by her mosquitoes, you can start out with giving them disadvantage on things like strength, dexterity and charisma. As they get bitten more, start asking for increasingly charisma difficult checks before doing anything strenuous; if they fail, it just seems like too much pointless effort. See if they can make the connection between the mosquitoes and their increasing indifference. Describe it as “tiredness” if you’re feeling mean.

It’s up to you how reversible this is, but in the final stages, a character could become one of the “zombies”. There’s a lot of fun to be had if you can convince the party to leave someone behind because they’re “tired”, only to find their companion a little later in a horde of the hopeless…