The Inscrituble Bird, the Owl, known to some as His Lordship

[HisLordship]

It is inevitable. I fought against this, preferring to eschew the stability of the Character Sheet in favour of the freedom of Possibility. Yet now I note, with our influx of new members, many do not even know that the Owl is an owl. Thus, I write this, to give the curious reader the barest hint of what I am or what I could be.



Character: The Owl

Name:
My true name is never something I discuss. Primitive cultures believe that those who know the full name of a thing have terrible magical power over the thing. No shaman will ever hold me by the scrotum and make me confess my secrets. Most simply call me Owl, although the title of His Lordship is sometimes spoken in hushed tones by those who know certain secrets.

Age:
I appear old, yet am forever renewed by the cleverness of the imagination.

Gender:
Male, although female intuition is not beyond me. Damned be the developmental process: Integration of the archetypes is what I seek.

Species:
To the layman, an Owl. More specifically, the idea of an Owl. A schema, or personal symbol, escaped from a certain mind. Think of me as a semitangible idea.

Description and Physiology:
I appear to an observer as whatever they would if they thought of the word “owl.” Usually seen as a large , ethereal bird of prey, this is prone to change with my moods, an observer’s moods, and even the weather. I never outright shape-shift, mind you… the effect is more like looking at a picture of a skull only to discern the gaiety of two lovers from the morbid visage. This unusual effect carries through even in photographs.


Physical Abilities:
Silent flight, nocturnal vision and heightened hearing all come from being an Owl. I can communiate with animals quite readily, as I am already an animal myself. A little more peculiarly, I demonstrate the capacity for human speech (in many languages, no less) along with a more-than-preternatural strength. Though rarely employed, if the need to carry an injured party to safety presents itself I am able to aid. Of course, the injured party ought to be of some importance for me to squander my strength so.

Supernatural Abilities:
Being an idea, I still have a connection to the mind that engendered me. Though I’d never reveal much about him or her, the connection covers basic knowledge (if my other half receives an invitation to a fancy dress party, for instance, I would be aware of the party – but not necessary of the Who, what, When Where, Why and How.) to physiological empathy (if I make love to a she-bird, my other half will also experience the sensations – this makes for rather comical situations sometimes).
These are lessened by distance, but not wholly removed from it (I were to be boiled alive in oil half the universe away, my other self would feel a mind discomfort pertaining to heat as well.

In addition to this sensory sharing, I discovered I was unkillable, in the technical sense. An arrow though the Owl’s chest will wound – certainly it will stop flight – but once the offending body is removed from my person, every drop of blood split will evaporate and is, for wont of a better term, “forgotten”.

Of course, my Other Half is perfectly mortal. Killing her is my own undoing. I am thankful the problems surrounding this issue have since cooled.

Signature Moves/Attacks:
Act as a messenger from Warring Party A to Warring Party B, Warp message to suit Warring party B’s needs, return to Warring Party A with advice, pretend to ferret out traitors in Warring Party B’s midst, spike the beverages of both Warring Party A and Warring Party B, take scandalous photographs of both Parties, show them to both parties the morning after, demand huge sums of money and a peace treaty between both parties to prevent major conflict, and sod off into the sunset with the nubile twentysomething daughters of both parties in tow.

Weaponry:
Fighting is for the brutes. A keen mind can cut deeper that the sharpest sword.

Equipment:
I have a shop in the well-to-do districts of Psychotopia’s posh side. I sell magical trinkets and other odds and ends I have gathered from across the Dojo. One is bound to find something useful here, regardless of the situation..

Home:
My humble shop’s attic serves as a comfortable place to sleep in the cold of winter. As well, the Evil Council’s Corrupted Cave has a pleasant little bedroom apartment and office set aside for my habitations. Truly, though, I am a creature of the outdoors, and rest wherever I find a suitable perch.

Origin:
The Dojo is a new world. I come from places older. The inside of the collective skull.

History:
I first appeared in the TreeSprite’s Grove, many odd years ago.
I found the B.L.I.G.H.T. and the Evil Council interesting company.
I followed the Council when they left the Grove.
I soon found myself in the Dojo when the new world Opened Up with Aru’Mauri’s whims.

Alignment:
Isn’t it nice being Manichean? Lawful good, chaotic evil. Chaotic good, lawful evil. As though personal actions can be constrained by the roll of a six-sided dice! Gary Gygax did not invent the soul! I will do what I need to ensure contentment and stability for myself and those close to me; if others have to suffer in order for this to be fulfilled, so be it. But it is often the course of nature’s law that those best fashioned for suffering are those who harbour evil in their hearts.

Personality:
Some would call me aloof and arrogant, but some do not know me well enough.

Known Weaknesses:
Beautiful women, mountains of molehills, and the death of my physical self.

Allies:
I know the governments of the Dojo well enough. The Evil Council welcomes me into their fold. TreeSprite’s companions of the L.I.G.H.T. usually welcome a witty repartee or two from my craft old beak. The Corporation doesn’t mind paying exorbitant fees for my specialist skills. I knew Mira Shatterstar and the B.L.I.G.H.T. well enough. Even the mice of the woodlands have shared my company for more than dinner. I relate well to all.