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It was 207 years ago that a young thief named Wyrrawaul fell in love with Serai a sorcerer's woman. The sorcerer found them as they tried to flee Taniki and struck the young thief down with a fireball. Gloating over the almost dead Wyrrawaul, Zenforbt accepted Serai back into his embrace. "Never again will you steal my woman thief! I curse you here and now! You will take the form of an owl and not die until you have learnt wisdom! Never again will a woman look upon your human face!"

Those who are truly wise quickly realise how unwise they really are. It was an impossible task that Zenforbt had set. For more than a century and a quarter, Owl flew across the many realms seeking elusive wisdom and at the same time, release from his curse. Not until seventy-five years ago did Owl find one gifted enough to give him hope. The Seer of Shaar, for reasons of her own, partially nullified the curse giving Owl back the gift of speech and enabling him to resume an almost human form.

Wyrrawaul wears a long charcoal-grey cloak its hood pulled carefully over his head. A dark forest green scarf wrapped loosely around his head hides a curse scarred face and self mocking smile. Yellow eyes once blue, carry a hint of mischief and pain. A silver-grey owl feather is the only visible ornament to his austere dress.
He carries three weapons, a simple hilted dagger, a plain short sword and the third hidden in open view. Wyrrawaul's close association with magic and those that weild it have made him distrustful of the art. He often openly avoids 'spell throwers' and all their crafts and magics.

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