Social justice classes are an RPG player’s riff on the reclaimed slur “social justice warrior.” Not all of us find the warrior ethos a good fit, nor does it appropriately value contributions from many different sorts.
At my core, I am an academic. There is power in knowledge, satisfaction in completeness, and peace in order. I could have been a wizard, and trained to be one. But there is otherworldly music in my heart and strange wires in my mind, and I found paths they never considered.
They say a warlock finds her power by making a pact with a being too small and too alien to be a deity, as a cheating shortcut to a wizard’s hard-fought magic. If I had found my skill at the behest of some dimensional interloper or fey trickster, it would fit all the same, but the strangeness from which I draw has no such name or substance. Behind the thin, flimsy, transparently false skin of normalcy was my true power. She is webbed and ever surprising, making connections none expect and weaving beauty from chains and strands too disparate for others to handle. She is patient in the timeless way of things outside our four dimensions, and she is resilient as a being whose true substance mere mortals cannot touch. Strange creatures feel pulled toward her, sensing something inhuman and safe in her quiet eyes and gentle hands. She is beautiful, strong, and profoundly, profoundly odd, and I found her in me and talked to her at length and let her, at long last, suffuse me with herself.
This is my salvo into the Status Quo War and my contribution to my justice party. I bring my cleric, bard, and assassin companions a warlock’s fine curses and finer research, arranged with cosmic ease and deadly precision. Those who face me face a poet’s grace, a wizard’s lore, and a sidereal wind all my own, threatening in its chill, alien loveliness.
This social justice warlock will make you love her, and despair.