The Exodus of the Fey Owlfolk

In the Ancient Year of Blue Fire, the Spellplauge ravages the land, and this destruction has
come to the far off Island of Evermeet, the dominion of elves. The Island cracks and roils,
partially sliding into the Trackless Sea, but upon death’s door, and without warning, with a crack
and flash of blue light the island is transported to the Plane of Feywild. The elves, looking
around at this forgien landscape, are bewildered, but rejoice in their survival. But their salvation
has not come without cost. Emanating from their new island, temporal distortions rip through the
surrounding landscape, ravaging the Feywild forest.

Hundreds of miles away, a loosely defined band of Owlfolk have made their home in a secluded
gnarled Oak, in a Sanctuary situated at the top of a Northern Feywild Mountain. They trace their
lineage to a band of Giant Owls, known as the Ancestors.

The Legend of the Ancestors

According to Owlfolk legend, the Owlfolk race started when a traveling band of Giant Owls fled
into the barren northern mountains. They were running from a young female LeShay that was
hunting the band down for stealing three powerful scrolls from a LeShay library. The LeShay
brutally slaughtered the Owls with a dragon’s might, slaughtering indiscriminately, but stopped
her bloody pursuit at the base of the Northern Mountains, knowing it was likely the Owls would
starve. As the Owls limped and took stock of their surroundings, they realized with horror that
their numbers had been reduced tenfold. Aligning upon a Mountain top for a breath, a Giant Owl
sets the scrolls down, unwittingly permanently fusing the scroll’s magic into the mountaintop.
The Scrolls and their powers would be memorized by every generation of Owlfolk to come.

“The First Scroll fused into stone, and gave our mountaintop life, turning solid rock into fertile
earth. Our roots shot into the very heart of the mountain.

The Second Scroll fused into stone, and gave us dexterity, strengthening our grip, heightening
our finesse, and hardening our talons against those who wish us harm.

The Third Scroll fused into stone, and gave us language, giving us the ability to speak and write
tongues that before now, we could only understand.

Let all young owlets know from their egg that every berry that sustains them, every flex of their
claw, every word that comes from their beak was paid for by the blood of our Ancestors.
And let every Elder know that every moment of sweet life they and their brood live was stolen
from LaShey.”

-Owlfolk Prayer

Over time, the Owls evolved to be smaller, as their surroundings did not provide enough
nutrients to support their large bodies. Thus was the Birth of the Owlfolk, and they named their
solitary mountaintop: Sanctuary.

Their way of life was completely cut off from the rest of Feywild, and a democratic, complex
honor based society was born. On the 100th anniversary of the founding of the Sanctuary, the
Eldest Owlfolk named their governing body The Parliament, and planted in the center of the
sanctuary an Oak tree sapling that, in 10 generations, would grow to be their new Home. Over
time, a complex language only the Owlfolk could understand arose from a mixture of the
languages the Ancestors knew, namely Common, Sylvan and Elvish, and the natural tongue of
the Giant Owls. This language would be called Strigine. Eventually, Common, Sylvan and Elvish
were completely forgotten.

Aside from the natural bounty (fruit and nut trees, some large insects and a small rodent
population) in their Sanctuary, they hunted in packs around their mountains, finding, hunting and
killing goats, deer, occasionally a bear. Any Owl that dared to pick a direction and fly into the
unknown was never heard from again.

Every 60 years or so, a lost or wandering Meenlock, Human, Orc, Elf or Hag would stumble
near their mountain, and once setting eyes on the oasis, madly scramble for the lovely fruit trees
and fresh water at the top, the only fresh water for 100 miles. Unfortunately, with none able to
communicate with the Owlfolk, all who approached the mountain would be dispatched. For
many the last sound the poor traveler would hear would be a repeated screeching, as talons
ripped into skin. The third visitor, a human that came a day after the planting of the oak, pleaded
with his last breath; “What are you screeching again and again, you wretched birds! The sound
is enough to make a man want to die!” His cry fell on deaf ears.

“The LeShay! The LeShay! They come in new forms to take Revenge! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!”

-Traditional Owlfolk Battle Cry

Even so, the new generations of Owlfolk found it harder and harder to believe that sentient life
could look humanoid. Every humanoid they met they couldn’t understand, every humanoid they
met madly rushed for food and water. To them and their solitary existence, real sentient Life
could only look like a Owl. Over time, the “real” LeShay looked to the owls less and less
humanoid, and took on more and more avian features. After 100 generations, when an old Owl
would speak of the horrid LeShay, the image in everyone’s mind was of an Owl, with a
mountaintop Sanctuary of their own, perhaps with twisted and gnarled features. Even so, better
safe than sorry. Every stranger, be it human, bird, or anything else would be met with the same
terror and violence. Anything to keep their blessed Sanctuary. Anything for a few more
generations of Owlfolk peace. Unfortunately, no dead human would stop what was coming.

Violent Shakes and Rips of the Evermeet Island suddenly crashed into Feywild Earth, and
opened up the earth, fissures racing in all directions. Unbeknownst to the Owlfolk, one ugly
gash in the ground raced towards their mountain range, perhaps attracted to the powerful magic
of their Beautiful Sanctuary, perhaps led on by the weakness their Sanctuary’s deep roots had
introduced to the rock.

In the Sanctuary, an earthquake grew louder and louder, as the Owlfolk rushed into the safety of
their Oak Tree. The Owls huddled together, holding their young, petrified as the growling
became thunderous. The Eldest Owl could be heard by all screeching the final words that would
be spoken in the first and only home they had ever known. Over the deafening ripping and
tearing of the roots beneath them, he cried;

“The LeShay! The LeShay! They have lain in wait for 1000 Lifespans, and now they come to
finish their murderous destiny! Their Revenge Comes! May the Sanctuary have Mercy On Us!”

And with that, the fissure instantly cleanly slashed the Owls’s Mountain in two, and with a
ravenous roar, opened up the darkest chasm in the Solid rock, and swallowed the Oak Tree up.
Down into the rocky chasm it sailed in free fall, then breaking into pieces upon the Earth’s
savage teeth, and the Parlement spilled out. Owls crashed and broke on jagged wood and rock.
Some were pinned to the walls by razor sharp jutting stone. Those who managed to catch
themselves madly flew upwards, some with already broken wings, but all were caught instantly
by falling boulders. Blood, gravel, oak splinters and broken feathers showered down onto the
belly of darkness.

The Owls fell deeper and deeper into the shaking bowels of the earth. One by one, Owls were
picked off by spears of stone. The light from above was now gone, but from below the remaining
Owls could hear the sharp crack of… lightning? In the mass of falling owls, suddenly with a
crack and a flash of blue light, Owls started to disappear. Echoing off of the wall of the chasm,
the cracks and flashes came quicker and quicker, until the owls started to disappear so fast, it
sounded like applause, and looked like a shower of sparks. Only two owls were left now, and
just as one vanished, the flash of the blue light was just enough for the last Owl to see below
her the jagged rock that sped to meet her body. She met the rock with a crunch, and her
surroundings fell back into pitch black darkness, Within five minutes of the landing of Evermeet
Island, the Owlfolk were all but gone from Feywild.