Encounter with an Owlbear
In the spirit of the old Dragon Magazine articles, “The Ecology of,” I’ve decided to write the “Encounter with” posts in the same format. They are told from a character's viewpoint, with some of them having direct contact with the creatures, others through study and lore, while some others tell drunken stories they have heard of for a pint of ale.
“Come and gather around the fire, children, for tonight we have a special guest for storytime,” said Tobias as he walked around herding the children to the massive hearth that sat on the far wall of the barroom floor. Sunday nights were a special time in the village, as the Tipsy Mouse Tavern hosted the local children for story night. Most of the time, a local from the village read from a village lore book, boring the children to death, but the parents continued to send them, reveling in a night of peace and quiet.
Tonight, however, they were in for a treat, for an older adventurer had rented a room at the Inn and heard about the Sunday night story. He was impressed with Tobias, the Tipsy Mouse owner, for organizing such a fun event and offered to tell a story of one of his adventurers to the children. Tobias jumped at the chance, tired of chasing the more rambunctious children who grew bored listening to the history of farming or how the local town well was dug.
“Children enough,” said Tobias, in the voice he used when he had had enough of the children’s foolishness or when he had to quell an argument between two drunk townsfolk. As the children sat around the hearth, a gray-haired man pulled him up from his barstool and sat in the chair the children had surrounded, quiet now and eagerly waiting.
“My name is Booker, but you can call me Book.” He paused for a moment. “What is the most fearsome creature in these lands?”
“Giant boars! Dire wolves! Dragons!” the children yelled over each other.
Book allowed himself a little smile as the children continue to yell over one another, as each creature was more outlandish than the next, some not even real. The children slowly ran out of steam, and the room became silent once again. “All of these creatures are truly fearsome, but none compares to the… Owlbear.” The younger children's eyes went wide, and most of the older children tried to look calm and were failing horribly. “They are by far one of the most dangerous creatures that roam the forests and the most ferocious I have ever encountered.”
A hand shot up. Book nodded at the girl, no older than sixteen. “You fought an owlbear and lived?” she asked. “Their claws are deadly sharp.”
“You’re correct, but don’t forget about their beak. It’s just as deadly and quite painful.” Book looked around the room and found the children were staring expectantly. “This story takes place in the forests north of the canal city of Ferrum, as I had returned from months at sea exploring the islands on the edges of the Endless West. It felt great to walk on dry land again, and I was enjoying the quiet of the woods.” Book paused for a brief moment. “Actually, I was probably enjoying myself too much, for I was late in realizing that the forest, usually full of the sounds of animals and birds, was eerily quiet.”
“It was just after sunset, and I was starting to set up camp. There is nothing as wonderful as sleeping on the hard ground, staring at the stars, after so much time on the sea.” Book thought back to that fateful night. He had grown so used to the gentle sounds of the sea, and his senses in the forest were dulled. Book knew he had been lucky that night. An owlbear’s sense of smell was better than the average forest animals, and with the sun having completely set, his eyes had not quite adjusted yet.(1) Meanwhile, the creature could easily see the distance that would make it simple to sneak up upon him. So lucky, he thought to himself again.
“I had just sat down to eat a little dinner in front of the campfire when I heard it. This horrible screeching sound, as if a poor kobold was being torn to shreds by a pack of wild dogs, the kobold screaming in pain and the dogs howling in delight.” Book noticed the smaller children in the front row had begun to slide back away from him a little. That’s ok, he thought, a little fear now can save them later. But he didn’t want them to start crying. He could take on an owlbear, but not crying children.
“What did you do?” asked one of the older boys, looking pale, as the early bravado was now completely gone from the older boys.
“Before or after I shit my leathers?” This drew some giggles from the younger children, helping lighten the mood slightly. “Grabbing my sword, I had a choice to make since the screeching was getting closer, and I only had time to do one. Extinguish my campfire and try to hide or climb a tree.”
“Hide for sure!” cried one of the smaller children. “If you hide really well, then it will go away.”
“I could hide, but did you know the owlbear can see in the dark?”(2) Once again, their eyes grew wide. Another mistake, and nearly a fatal one, Book thought to himself. "Plus, an owlbear can smell really well. Do you know how you can smell cookies from the other side of the village when your mother makes them? Owlbears can do that too, except I was the cookie.”
“Why not just run away?” asked one of the children.
“Owlbears are very fast, faster than me. Running blindly through the forest wasn’t an option.”(3)
“Oh. Well, that stinks.”
“Yes, it does. There is nothing wrong with running away kids. Anyone that says you’re a coward to run is a liar, lucky or stupid.” said Book. He’d been called worse than a coward, but he was still alive while many other of those supposedly brave braggarts were not. “Keeping the campfire lit would let me see my enemy, so I searched for a nearby tree to climb. But just as I had found one, the massive creature exploded into the clearing charging straight towards me.”
“What did it look like?” asked a young boy.
“They are a strange-looking creature,” replied Book. “It has a body the size and shape of a bear, with a bear’s massive claws. But instead of fur, it’s covered in gray and black feathers. The creature’s head looks like an owl, with large round eyes and a giant beak. Those eyes were scary as he… heck, filled with anger and hate.” More than anything else, Book remembered those eyes. They scared the hells out of him, but there was no need to tell the children that.
A small girl raised her hand. Book nodded at her. “Why does it look like that? Did an owl and a bear fall in love and have babies?”
“No, silly.” said the girl who knew about the claws. “A crazy wizard used magic to make them.”
She’s a smart one, Book thought to himself. The girl looked nervous but less so than the other children. While the other children were moving away from him slowly, she was leaning towards him, staring intently.
“What’s your name, young lady” asked Book.
“Mikela,” she replied.
“You’re right again, Mikela, but those are only stories. No one knows for sure.” When he looked back on this moment, Book often wondered why anyone would create such a beast, but wizards were a strange group of people.
“As the creature bore down on me, I had was able to raise my sword just as it lunged at me, swiping a massive claw at me. I was barely able to avoid its razor-sharp claw as the creature’s massive beak came crashing down on my shoulder, piercing both my leather and my skin.”(4) Book unconsciously touched his shoulder, feeling the scar from the blow.
“I swung my sword at the beast, feeling it cut through the creature’s thick skin, wounding him. The owlbear is harder to hurt than your average brown or black bear. I think it’s due to the thick cover of feathers, but no matter.” Book continued, “I backed away after striking the creature, trying to put the campfire between me and the owlbear.”
Mikela spoke up once again. “How did you defeat it?” She was genuinely interested, and while the other children were still listening, many were lost in their own thoughts. Probably about being eaten by an owlbear, he thought to himself.
“Luck mostly,” he said, and it was the truth. “Fighting an owlbear alone is quite dangerous. They will focus on one person when fighting a group, usually, one that drew blood or was bleeding themselves. I was alone, so there was no one else to attack.” Book paused mostly for dramatic effect. “After it came around the fire, it bore down with its beak but missed. It did, however, manage to slash through my side with its claws.”
Book lifted his shirt, showing the children the long jagged scars its claw had forever left on him. He didn’t think their eyes could get any wider without popping out of their head. “Now, some people will tell you that an owlbear will flee if you wound it badly, but this is false.” Book pulled his shirt back down and continued. “An owlbear bear will fight to the death since the foul-tempered beast fears nothing, including death.(5) Luckily for me, it was the last blow the creature landed, while I could hit the creature after every failed attempt.”
“How long did the battle take?” asked Mikela.
“No more than a minute, but it seemed like an eternity,” said Book. Time always seems to slow down in a fight, thought Book. “When I was able to land the final blow, I nearly collapsed from exhaustion, but there was no time. I had to leave.”
“Why?” asked a couple of kids at the same time.
“Owlbears will mate, and if this one had, it wouldn’t be long before their partner showed up,” said Book. “I packed up my gear, put out the fire, and headed in the opposite direction from which the beast had come, walking through the night till I reached a village similar to this one.” And passed out for two days, he remembered. “My story is done, children, and I am sure it is past your bedtimes. I have rambled on long enough.”
The children slowly got to their feet and broke into groups for their trek home. There was little talking, and then only in hushed tones. As he got up and stretched, Book watched as Mikela walked up to him.
“Thanks for the tale,” she said. “I’m happy you survived to tell it.”
“Me too.”
“I cannot wait to leave this small town, so anything I learn about the dangers outside the walls can only help me on my travels.” Mikela looked hard at Book, waiting for him to give her the same speech her parents gave her about girls not being suited for the life of an adventurer.
“It’s a tough life, but you seem smart enough to survive. Or maybe not get eaten on your first day.” Book replied with a wry smile.
Mikela broke her stare, realizing he was joking yet being serious at the same time. “I hope not. I’ve got so many things to see, but after your story, an owlbear is not one of them,” she said with a sarcastic smile.
Book leaned his head back and laughed. “How about I tell you about some other creatures you’ll want to avoid when you explore the world?” She nodded, her smile turning genuine. “Two of your finest ginger root beers, barkeep,” he said, moving over to a table by the fire.
“Now, Mikela, have you ever heard of the grell?”
Notes
An owlbear has the Keen Sense ability, granting it advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on sight or smell.
Owlbears have 60 feet of darkvision. This is why they enjoy hunting at night.
Owlbears have a speed of 40 ft., 80 ft. if they dash.
The owlbear has a multi-attack ability. It makes two attacks: one with its beak and one with its claws. Its beak strikes as a melee weapon attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft. with a hit doing 10 (1d10 + 5) piercing damage. Its claws strike as a melee weapon attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft. with a hit doing 14 (2d8 + 5) slashing damage.
The Monster Manual says nothing to this effect either way. In the 3.5 edition Monster Manual, it is stated that the owlbear will always fight to the death.
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