Strig
The Strig are a reclusive and contemplative offshoot of the Birdfolk lineage, shaped by twilight winds and moonlit silence. Born beneath starlit boughs and raised in the hush of midnight groves, Strig resemble humanoid owls—broad-eyed, soft-feathered, and cloaked in downy hues of silver, russet, ash, and sable. Their eyes, large and unblinking, gleam with otherworldly intelligence, seeming to pierce through deception, shadow, and silence alike.
Where most Birdfolk embody the freedom and song of the daylit skies, the Strig are children of dusk and mystery, their souls attuned to the breath between sunfall and moonrise. Lore speaks of a sacred covenant between their ancestors and the moon itself, brokered in solemn stillness by Vaeril, the God of Birds. While still born of his divine wind, the Strig diverged—choosing stillness over motion, wisdom over song, and the quiet truths hidden in shadow over the bold declarations of light.
Strig dwell in highland forests, fog-wreathed cliffs, and ancient, gnarled groves, their homes hidden amidst dense foliage or carved into the sides of mountains. They build with great care and reverence, blending seamlessly into nature so as not to disturb the quietude they hold sacred. Their architecture is circular and spiral-patterned, inspired by the moon’s cycle and the swirl of nocturnal currents. Soft wind-chimes, made of bone, wood, and stone, mark their homes—not for sound, but to sense intrusions on the air.
Introspective and slow to trust, Strig value watchfulness, secrecy, and clarity of thought. They are known as seers, lorekeepers, night-sentinels, and chroniclers of ancient wisdom. Many become Sages of the Feathered Veil, a revered order of spiritual watchers who guide Birdfolk history and record the unspoken truths of the world. Strig view the night as a living entity to be listened to, not feared—a teacher that speaks in silence and reveals what the daylight conceals.
Their society prizes balance—between instinct and reason, light and dark. Though Strig rarely raise their voices, their presence commands attention. They are often consulted by other Birdfolk flights for guidance in spiritual matters, omens, or difficult truths. They speak slowly and with purpose, and once a Strig gives their word, it is seldom ever broken.
While not naturally combative, Strig are formidable when roused. Their movements are sudden and precise, and they fight not with fury, but with calculated grace. Many train in silent flight, a martial tradition mimicking the ghostlike descent of hunting owls, striking before their prey even senses their presence. Their favored weapons are short glaives, moon-forged talons, and throwing feathers etched with runes of misdirection.
Some see the Strig as eerie, even unsettling, for they blink rarely and speak truths others would rather avoid. Yet none doubt their wisdom or their purpose. They are the still wind in the trees, the eyes watching from the dark, the question before the answer. They are the Strig—guardians of forgotten nights, and moon-blessed sentinels of Vaeril’s quiet will.
