A somber, anthropomorphic owl character, an Owlin, in tattered cloak and leather armor stands in a dark, rainy stone alley.

an Owlin of lean, angular build, standing just over three feet tall. His feathers are the muted gray-brown of ash and twilight, darker along his back and wings, paler across his chest and face. Unlike the soft, pristine plumage of most Owlin, his feathers are perpetually ruffled and slightly brittle—he rarely preens properly, and some mornings he finds small clumps on his pillow. His facial disc is broad and heart-shaped, typical of a true owl, framing large, round eyes that are a deep, bruised amber. There are dark rings beneath them, permanent shadows from years of poor sleep. When he is angry or afraid, his eyes seem to catch the light wrong—a faint, sickly glint that others find deeply unsettling. His beak is short, hooked, and the color of old bone. He has a habit of clicking it softly when lost in thought. His wings are long and broad, suited for silent flight, but he often keeps them folded tightly beneath a worn traveler’s cloak. The cloak is dark gray, patched in several places, and smells faintly of rain and old dust. Beneath it, he wears simple leather armor and a tunic that has seen better days. His talons are sharp and kept dangerously pointed—not for show, but because he forgets to file them. His feet are bare, as most Owlin prefer, though he sometimes wraps them in cloth when walking through cold stone cities. The most striking thing about Strix is his stillness. When he is not moving, he barely seems to breathe. He can sit motionless for hours, staring at Mehr sehen