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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