This update, and likely the next one or two to come, encompass a period of relative downtime. But don't worry -- the action will pick up soon after, and in a big way.
I have fallen farther behind the running game than I thought. The following update is from run #195, and the next session (this coming Thursday) will be #223. Time-wise, I am almost two-and-a-half years behind. But I will continue to chip away, one post at a time.
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 289
Five Silent Crow
To make a further statement, the Company takes the body of Lord Dafron and hangs it from the public gallows outside the gates to the Upper City. The next morning it draws a crowd of curious onlookers, some of whom remember the rumors from a year earlier. There is little sympathy for his fate.
The feebleminded mercenary One Strong Shield is divested of his wealth and magic items, gotten roaring drunk in a seedy Lower City tavern, and then healed. When he finally sobers up hours later, and pieces together the likely turn of events that brought him to that place, he counts himself lucky to be alive. After all, Lord Dafron had warned him of the bloodthirsty and merciless nature of the foes whom he expected to come calling.
Two Graceful Leaps, the assassin-turned-cat, turns out to have had some kind of magical protection against mind-effecting spells. That protection, while insufficient to prevent his polymorphing, was enough to safeguard his human personality and intellect. Under further truth magic he pledges to the Company that he will turn a new leaf, and not rejoin the assassins. Aravis instructs him to go forth, do good deeds, and redeem himself.
Morningstar looks mildly disapproving. “You’re entirely too comfortable playing at being a God.”
* *
With no pressing agenda, the Company decides it’s time for some rest, training, magic-item creation, and information gathering. The Golden Goblet in Djaw offers them a discount for an extended stay, and kindly extends to them the private use of several function rooms. With Charagan and Kivia now only a greater teleport away from each other, the party spends the next few months fairly evenly split between the two continents.
Three days after their arrival back in Djaw, a letter arrives for them – as a group – at the Goblet. It is an invitation to lunch that afternoon at the Enchanters’ Hall, and it is signed “Five Silent Crow.”
“Hey, I remember that guy!” exclaims Dranko. The others do as well – Five Silent Crow was an old and dying wizard who underwent an experimental magical procedure to transfer his mind into a golem. An unfortunate turn of events led to him “waking up” inside the golem’s head, but with no body attached. The subsequent centuries-long stay in an abandoned closet had driven him completely insane. The Company had delivered his golem-head to the Enchanters’ Guild in Djaw and hadn’t thought much about him since then.
On paranoid principle Dranko casts omen of peril before they leave for the lunch date, and is relieved at the result of “safety.” The city is alive with exotic sounds and smells, and warm for early March. Kibi is unable to enjoy himself; the city’s many dwarven slaves are not something he can let slide. The Company draws its usual allotment of stares, being both obviously foreign, and heavily armed and armored.
The trip to the Enchanter’s Hall takes them through the Court of Cats, and Aravis is understandably popular. Pewter perches on the wizard’s shoulder and proclaims: “Loyal subjects! The God of felines is among you!”
Morningstar rolls her eyes.
“I should grant my worshippers the Miracle of ‘no hairballs,” says Aravis with a smirk.
“Wouldn’t that kill them?” asks Ernie. “I mean, if they couldn’t cough up the hairballs?”
“See?” says Morningstar with a wry grin. “Not so easy being a God, is it?”
Aravis admits the point. Probably every God’s first lesson is that of Unintended Consequences.
Soon they reach their destination – The Enchanter’s Guild is a cluster of tall marble building inside a circular iron fence. A human slave greets them politely at the door, his red iron collar conspicuous around his neck.
Five Silent Crow is expecting them. The slave leads the Company into the main building on the Guild grounds, a three-story library with an airy interior.
“Mr. Crow, your guests are here.”
“Good!” comes a voice from behind a bookshelf. “Send them in, please.”
Inside the library’s main atrium one table in the middle – far from any books – is set with a large and inviting meal. And then Crow comes into view, his golden emerald-eyed head resting upon a human body. He holds a book in a well-manicured hand. Something about his movement isn’t quite right – it reminds the Company a bit of Eddings’ illusory eyes.
“Mr. Crow, how nice to see you!” exclaims Ernie. “And they found you a way of moving around!”
“I’m actually doing it myself,” says Crow.
“That’s delightful!” says Ernie, impressed.
The book floats out from Crow’s hand and comes to rest lightly on the edge of the table.
“The body is only an illusion,” admits the wizard.
“Really? It looks absolutely real!” says Dranko.
“Thank you,” says Crow, affecting an awkward bow. “I am still working out the kinks. It doesn’t ambulate about in exactly the way people expect. I had done it most of my life, and you might think I’d remember, but constant control over this kind of illusion takes hard work and practice. And I keep my head aloft through a modified telekinesis, which also requires some concentration. At least the golem’s facial expressions are part of its innate enchantment and need no upkeep.”
“And how do you feel?” asks Morningstar.
“I feel wonderful! I have been doing great research here, all thanks to you. Would you like to sit and eat?”
Hours pass as they trade stories and reminisce. Crow wants to hear all about their adventures following his rescue from the golem city of Repose. He remarks once on Step’s absence and bows his golden head on learning of the paladin’s fate.
Ernie asks him what he’s been doing with his time (other than mastering his body), and the answer is surprising.
“I have been working on achieving immortality,” he says, some pride evident in his voice.
“Aren’t you already immortal?” asks Dranko.
“Alas no,” answers Crow. “The spells that keep my consciousness and personality inside this metal head will start to fail in ten or twenty years.”
“Can’t they just pop you into another head?” asks Dranko.
“It is my mental essence that is collapsing,” Crow explains. “Even the most advanced artificial head will not be sufficient to the task. The enchanters here tell me it is a minor miracle I have already lasted this long. So, I am working on ways to extend my own life. There are ways I could do it now, but they involve me becoming a lich, which I am not prepared to do.”
“Good!” says Ernie with a laugh, “because we’d hate to have to come and smite you.”
“Don’t you need a body to become a lich?” asks Dranko, fascinated.
“There are types of liches that do not need a body,” says Crow.
“Really?” exclaims Aravis. Ernie looks over nervously at his friend.
“Aravis, I don’t want to smite you either.”
“Not that I’m an expert on necromancy,” says Crow. “I have Shredded Veils for that.”
“Who?” asks Grey Wolf.
“My assistant. Veils! Could you attend me, please?”
A pale, thin, and downright creepy wizard comes stalking from an anteroom, his robe predictably black. Ernie has to resist the urge to smite him on instinct.
“There are some necromantic elements to any extension of life,” says Crow, “and since Veils here is an expert on the subject, he has been assisting me.”
Ernie forces himself to be polite. “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Veils.”
Two Shredded Veils nods. “I understand that you are the ones who rescued my master and ended his terrible ordeal. We are all in your debt. Five Silent Crow is a great thinker. We are enriched by his presence.”
Dranko asks of Five Silent Crow: “Why do you want to live forever?”
Aravis answers for him. “Because there’s so much to learn!”
Crow nods at Aravis in agreement.
“But what if the same thing happens to you again, and you end up trapped in a closet for centuries?”
The light gleams unsettlingly in Crow’s emerald eyes. “What are the odds of that?” he asks.
“But,” says Ernie, full of genuine concern, “if you live forever, you’ll never get to heaven!”
Crow doesn’t answer, and his golem’s expression is hard to read.
“Ah,” says Five Silent Crow after an awkward several seconds of silence. “Your water has run out. Ingot! Ingot, come here please!”
A dwarven slave walks over to them, and Kibi’s brows knit into a thunderhead.
“Yes sir?” says Ingot brightly. “What can I do for you?”
“Can you fetch more water for our guests please?”
“Of course, sir.” He turns to leave, but does a double take at seeing Kibi standing there – a dwarf without the collar.
“How do you do,” says Kibi. “My name is Kibilhathur Bimson.”
“He’s a dwarf who’s not a slave,” says Dranko helpfully, prompting Ernie to step hard on his foot.
Ingot grows sullen. “Good for him,” he growls.
“Good for everybody!” says Dranko.
“I should get your water.” Ingot stomps away.
“We’ll set him free,” says Ernie. Kibi turns on him, eyes fierce.
“When?”
“As soon as we figure out how,” says Ernie.
“Excuse me,” says Five Silent Crow, annoyed. “You’ll do no such thing!”
Ernie looks Five Silent Crow right in the emeralds. “If you’ll excuse me saying so, Mr. Crow, it seems a very cruel thing that all of the Dwarves in Djaw are enslaved.”
“If one regrets being a slave,” says Crow dryly, “then perhaps one should have not committed a crime.”
“But aren’t all dwarves enslaved just for being dwarves?” asks Kibi?
“Of course not!” says Crow. “The dwarves who are slaves, like the human slaves, are either serving out a sentence for crimes committed, or possibly working off a debt.”
“Have you seen any dwarves here who aren’t slaves,” challenges Kibi.
“Well, no,” admits Crow. “But it would be an uncomfortable place for a free dwarf to live, don’t you think? And they have their own kingdom.”
“Five Silent Crow,” says Dranko, “For someone who is such a great thinker, I wonder if maybe you haven’t seen enough of the world.”
“Who told you these things about how slavery works?” asks Kibi.
“It’s simply the law, and commonly known. Ingot here would not be a slave if he were neither a debtor nor a criminal.”
“Where are these laws written?” demands Kibi.
“They are the laws of the Jewels of the Plains,” answers Crow, sounding honestly taken aback. “It is how slavery works.”
“Is there a term?” asks Kibi. “A limit to how long they serve?
“For minor crimes and small debts, I understand the term is limited,” answers Crow. “For major crimes or significant debts, it is for life.”
“And all the dwarves have major debts, or are severe criminals?” asks Morningstar.
“As far as I know, yes, the dwarven slaves are all criminals, serving for serious crimes.”
“In that case, there must be a record somewhere of what crimes they’ve committed,” says Dranko.
“Do you know if they are found guilty here in Djaw, or in their own homeland?” asks Aravis.
“In Gurund, I assume,” answers Crow, clearly growing annoyed. “They’d then be turned over to the Guild of Chains.”
“Thank you, Mr. Crow,” says Ernie quickly, before his colleagues can press the matter. “We had not known that, and your answers are very illuminating.”
Crow’s golem face smiles indulgently. “He’s a fine fellow,” he says, gesturing after Ingot. “He works very hard.”
“I hope you treat him well,” says Ernie.
“Of course I do! He’s still a person. But I’ll thank you not to free him in contravention of the law.”
“I’m sorry this unpleasantness has crept into our relationship,” says Dranko.
“Not at all, not at all,” says Crow, waving one illusory hand the air.
Ingot comes back with water.
“This enough, sir?” His tone is not so friendly as it was.
“Yes, excellent,” says Crow. “If I need you again I will call for you.”
“Yes sir,” he grunts, and leaves quickly.
“Ingot is quite remarkable for a slave,” says Crow brightly. “Do you know, he’s even literate! I have him doing work copying non-magical scrolls and texts; his handwriting his most pleasing.”
“You are an unusual collection of people here,” says Dranko.
If Five Silent Crow notes the same about the Company, he keeps it to himself. “Yes. I suppose. The Enchanters do give me the run of the place, though many of them find me quite the curiosity. But that’s understandable. And they give me access to all of their research materials, and as you might imagine there are numerous enchantments and theories thereupon which are vital to my work.”
“What do you think is your best bet for immortality?” asks Dranko.
“There are few avenues of magical inquiry which could prove fruitful. There are two main ways. One is finding or creating a new material that will slow or stop the degradation of my mind. The other is to actually work on the mind itself, and (pardon the pun) make immaterial what it’s encased in. The matter than makes up my personality and intelligence – the essential particles – would stop degrading on their own.”
Dranko grows excited, thinking that maybe gartine could be the answer to his problems, but Five Silent Crow has already explored that possibility. “By its very nature,” Crow explains, “gartine slows everything down – the passage of time, but also the thoughts of the mind inside. It would send me into a kind of pseudo-stasis, and while such a head would endure for a long time, it’s not really what I’m looking for.”
The meal has ended by this time, so Five Silent Crow finally gets to the real reason for the lunch invitation.
“When I found out you were in town, I asked the Master of the Hall, Two Blue Rock, for a favor. I have convinced him to let the wizards among you have the run of the spellbooks here. And they have a full collection – not only enchantments. Don’t go crazy, mind, but understand that they have been willing to indulge me thus far. I have vouched for your fine character.”
“Right,” says Dranko. “Pants stay on.”
“Yes,” says Crow uncertainly. “Pants stay on. Is that...um... usually a difficulty?”
“Just for him,” says Grey Wolf, shooting Dranko a glare. “And we greatly appreciate such an opportunity.”
...to be continued...
), so a little break from the heavy-hitting spell action should be a good temporary change-up. 
