The Sorrowing Watcher
A moss-veiled statue of stone and memory.
I
found it at the edge of a fog valley, half-swallowed by moss and forgetting. Didn’t speak. Didn’t move. But it made me stop. Sit. Think about things I haven’t let myself think about in some time.Its posture was like prayer—but not hope. More like apology. Or grief.
I sat beside it for an hour. When I stood, there was a new line etched at its base:
“She waited in the cellar. You never checked the door.”
I don’t know who “she” was. But I’ve left too many doors unopened in my time.
I don’t believe the Watcher is trying to hurt anyone.
I think it’s trying to help the world remember.
It just doesn’t always get it right.
—G. Cain
What You See
You find it alone. Always alone.
A humanoid statue, life-sized and bowed, knees lost in overgrowth. It kneels like one caught between worship and grief. Thick moss cloaks the head and shoulders. The face is gentle, almost faceless—worn smooth by weather and time. Its hands are pressed together as if remembering how to pray.
It does not speak. It does not move. But it listens.
And if you linger, it begins to change.
- The eyelids open slightly.
- The moss retracts.
- A phrase appears at the base—one that shouldn’t exist.
You remember something you didn’t know you’d forgotten.
Where It Comes From
No creator has ever claimed the Watcher. It appears across Loria’s forgotten roads, hollow groves, high ridgelines. Never more than one. Never less than everything.
The oldest texts mark it only as “the kneeler.”
Others say it is the dream of a regretful god.
Griswold has his own theory:
“I think the world made it to help remember itself.
But sometimes it remembers the wrong things.”
How It Works
Every character may interact meaningfully with the Watcher only once.
When they do—through speech, touch, rest, or confession—a single phrase appears on the pedestal.
- Only other players can read it.
- The character who triggered it cannot.
The writing is poetic, partial, or dreamlike.
If the character ever sees their own phrase (via magic, mirror, or another’s help), they gain a moment of clarity or intuition—but forget the original memory or reason they approached the statue in the first place.
The Watcher listens without judgment.
But what it gives back isn’t always what was asked.
Ways It May Remember You
1. The False Memory
A player rests beside the Watcher overnight.
They wake with a vivid memory of a life that never happened—a loving sister they never had, a town they've never visited.
On the pedestal: “You were happy there.”
Twist & Use: If the player shares or pursues this memory, NPCs or the world itself may begin responding as if the memory were real. The Watcher has nudged something loose. A lost town might exist after all—but under a different name. Or perhaps this is how a forgotten god is trying to return.
2. The Weeping Moss
A character touches the moss in silence.
It leaves silver sap on their skin. That night, they dream of someone they loved—someone completely forgotten until now.
Twist & Use: The dream grants a clue: a phrase, landmark, or face useful in the current arc. But when the player wakes, the dream-person’s name is gone from their memory. Only the Watcher remembers. If the player returns, it may whisper that name back—but at a price.
3. The True Name
When a player speaks a true name aloud—of self, place, or other—the Watcher reacts.
Its posture shifts slightly. A finger points. A new carving appears, indicating a path or secret.
Twist & Use: The statue reveals not treasure, but a consequence bound to the name. A broken pact. A forgotten child. A sealed door that should never open. DMs can use this to tie in lost histories or future dangers with minimal prep—simply react to what name the player chooses.
4. The Confession
A player kneels before the Watcher and confesses something real: a betrayal, a failure, a death they caused.
The moss recedes. The Watcher lifts its face slightly.
Twist & Use: The character gains a quiet boon—divine insight, a temporary stat advantage, or a sudden intuitive choice. But the memory is erased from their mind forever. The party remembers, but they no longer know what they confessed.
5. The Echoed Visit
If the players have met another Watcher before, this one already knows them.
The pedestal now bears fragments from their past encounter—names, quotes, secrets no one else should know.
Twist & Use: It offers a new warning—not of what’s to come, but of something they already did that they misunderstood. This is an elegant tool for DMs to retroactively layer new meaning into a past events.
What It Means
The Sorrowing Watcher does not test. It does not judge.
It remembers what you’ve lost—even if you don’t.
It watches, patiently, until you reveal yourself.
It offers no solutions. Only echoes.
To remember is to cast a spell.
To forget is to leave something behind.
Whatever it shows you may not be true.
But once you’ve seen it, it’s part of you.
And it does not forget.
