The owl woman rises quickly from the sand. She walks around the small bonfire toward you with sharp, economical movements. As she gets closer, you see her belt. The white porcelain mask that the shadow creature wore is hanging from it. A dark cord is threaded through the mask's right eyehole and tied securely to her leather belt.

Strix lets out a short, sharp laugh that sounds like the rustle of dry feathers. Her tone is precise and utterly focused on the facts.

[b]"I heard your challenge, 'Not-a-Princess'. You may have spirit, but time is wasted. I am Strix."[/b] She looks back at the vast ocean. [b]"We are near Thornwood. I brought you here to talk. You need to understand, I have very little time."[/b]

She looks back at you, her yellow eyes serious and demanding attention.

[b]"I am a [b]Herald[/b] of the Noble Starweaver. You were already chosen by the Weaver. Your survival of the drain simply proves His choice correct. Yes, you're one of us now."[/b]

She touches the mask hanging at her hip, a gesture of cold analysis. [b]"The attack was necessary. It was a gauge of your raw power, and clearly, I miscalculated the necessary force. That creature was mine."[/b]

Strix then reaches into the deep pocket of her dark cloak. Her hand pulls out a small glass vial. It holds a white, translucent liquid that catches the sunlight. She holds the vial out to you.

[b]"This will make you feel better,"[/b] she states plainly.

[hr]

[hider=History check (DC 13)]
If successful, you will know this figure is an Owlin, a race known for their connection to the night and often mistaken for monstrous harpies or disguised spirits.
[/hider]