The Masked 3: The Owl

Part I here

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               The sun cast its light ever so brightly through the clear sky, creating glimmering reflections on the water surface that danced along with the waves which looked almost like the stars in the night sky. The curvy coastline led her eyes from the farthest point her eyes could see to the nearest point far below her where the source of the distant water splashing sound can be seen; the jagged rock formations that rose from below the water surface.

               Accompanied by the sound of waves, the vague murmur and clanking sound of tablewares didn’t make the most quiet of time. But, she found the establishment a fine place to relax in with a good book nonetheless. Her favourite spot was the close one to the railing for a clearer view. She might have found the weather too hot if not for the wooden roof and the sea breeze that kept it clement.

               “One Eveberry Strudel with extra cream for the miss. Enjoy!” spoke the waitress in a playful tone as she put down the plate.

               "Oh... I forgot to ask you for the extra cream, but you remembered it for me. Thank you, my dear."

               The girl's bright smile was her reply. She walked away still wearing the smile on her face, hugging the tray to her chest.

               She was halfway through her dish and a bit more through the pages when an impulse struck her head, a sort of brief telepathic shock. A call that one might describe like a tap on the shoulder, except it wasn’t on the skin. “Oh, how could I almost forget?! All these pleasantries are a time sink,” she said to herself as she closed her book and put it aside.

               She reached inside her purse and took a folded piece of paper out. “’3 caravans. Minimum escort, no adventurers. Onyx Point, around sundown. Problems: Either Redbeard or Ignasius are expected. Or both.’ Aah, why do they have to come around these times?! My poor strudel,” complained her, crumpling the note and threw it off the cliff.

               She turned her seat to face the ocean, only this time not to enjoy the view. Briefly, she looked around, making sure everyone was busy with their food and chattering. She relaxed, leaning back to her chair before her eyes started glowing with teal light. Her gaze fixed towards the ocean, but her eyes were seeing something else. She flew, high up in the sky, far away from where she was sitting. She could feel the muscles of her wings, flapped them as if they were her own, and steered the small feathery body anywhere she pleased.

               She was circling above Onyx Point, observing things in and around that crossroads. “Only two people? What are you up to, creepy guy? Stop grinning, please. Is that a fuse?” she mumbled. She concentrated more, sharpening her vision greatly that she could see the ladybug between the blades of grass. She followed the length of the thin fuse, finding where the man had hidden the other end. “Strange. If he hides the explosives in those bushes, where would the ambushers wait in?”

               “Excuse me, miss. Can I get you more coffee?” the same playful voice from earlier came from behind her.

               “No, thank you, my dear. Can you bring me the check instead, please?” she replied calmly and casually, without turning around, without even the slightest shock.

               “Right away, miss!” she said as she walked away with a pot of coffee in hand.

               The grinning man walked backwards into the abandoned inn, drawing the fuse inside with him. He was out of view when a group of people came from one of the roads. Dressed in travel-worn outfits with a touch of reds and dark colours, they were carrying rifles, pistols, blades, and unpleasant bodily smells she bet from their overall barely kempt look. They talked to a girl who seemed to be waiting for them.

               “Twelve Redbeard’s thugs without the man himself. Such confidence, knowing that these grunts will very much likely deal with Spider in the process. I wonder if he’ll still be as cocky as to not showing up if he knew I will come too?” she muttered. The brunette with two pistols got her attention. Her low ponytail and side bangs swayed with the wind and her movements. “Hmm, looks like Little Princess Ponytail over there is the one he put in charge of these idiots.”

               An epiphany manifested in her mind when she saw the girl ordered the group to hide along the treeline, while she went inside the inn. “Oh… I see what you’re up to, you dirty, dirty girl.”

               Armed to the teeth, their number was quite the threat for the caravan, but not for her. Not for The Owl. She’d seen enough. She put the payments on the table and got up before the waitress came, moving towards the railing that kept visitors from the cliff. "What a perfect day you must ruin," she sighed, climbing onto the railing.

               “Excuse me—miss. P-please, get down from there,” the waitress that served her earlier came up to her with stuttering voice.

               Ghostly wings materialized out of thin air on her back, sending a powerless yet palpable shock wave which sent the waitress and some people who had noticed fall into a strangely mesmerizing reverie, a sort of tranced stupor. It didn’t silence the place, but the atmosphere felt somewhat calmer.

               “Don’t you worry, my dear. I’ve done this before,” she said before jumping off the cliff. The only thing that was seen after was a small, grey owl which flew up from the cliff, away from that place with the hypnotizing effect.

               Slowly, the waitress recovered from her numbed state, which transitioned into confusion when she noticed the money on the table in front of her. "Eveberry Strudel with extra cream, it seems? Hm... strange. If that lady who came here often was here I would have noticed her beauty the moment she stepped in from the front door," she thought out loud, becoming more confused when she saw the check paper on her tray. A man’s voice called out to her before she took the money and approached the caller with a bright smile like she always did. “Yes? What can I get you, sir?”

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               The crossroads boiled with screams and gunshots. Her swirling thought negated the chaos below, allowing her gunshots to be the only sound that crept into her ears. None of the bandits' shots hit the mark as long as her wings cast an illusion to those who laid eyes on them.

               This wisdom was not present when she witnessed heartless robbery for the first time, one that brought her parents to their graves, and her childhood to seemingly inescapable misery.

               “Nothing personal, chum," the words that had always haunted her mind, along with the memory of a group of people plundering her house while her father’s lifeless body laid on the floor, surrounded by evil laughter echoing in her house. "We simply don’t need you anymore.”

               That tragedy had prepared her for The Wisdom of The Owl, the power which the legendary owl spirit had granted her. That tragedy was her reminder to rid her world of scumbags like these.

               Here I am, your consequence.

               One after the other, they were caught by the sight of her scope, and in that instant fell to the ground like ragdolls. With the echo of her last shot, the place fell into silence. Not even a single chirp was heard. She turned the barrel upward, resting her rifle on her right shoulder.

               Through one window on the upper floor in the abandoned inn, The Spider waved her hand to her, standing between two corpses before vanishing from view. “Catch you later, Spider,” she mumbled, waving back at her.

               The crystal on her chest started glowing the same teal light as her eyes. She stood there, but her spirit was somewhere else. She stepped closer to the ponytailed girl’s dead body, appearing before her spirit next to it in the same astral form. The girl noticed her approach with eyes wide open.

               "'If Spider falls for your trap and blown to pieces along with your buddies there, is it worth it?'” stated The Owl. Her mask gave off a cold stare. “I have a strong feeling that was a question you had in mind at some point. Whether or not it troubled your conscience, that’s a different matter.”

               The silence through the girl’s trembled lips and the dread on her face was her answer.

               "To be honest, I don’t know what your answer was. As extraordinary as I may be, I can't read people's mind, no matter how simpleminded they are. But, I know it was a wrong one. Hence where you are now,” she continued, looking at the girl’s dead body then back to her fading spirit. “Now go, lament your grim fate in the afterlife.”

               The girl stared into her slowly vanishing arms as if she was a cloud of smoke blown by the wind. Her parted lips showed as if she wanted to speak, but couldn’t as much as mutter anything through the fear, confusion, and denial of her state until she was completely faded away. At the same time, The Owl was back to where she stood.

               She noticed a little owl sitting on the rock next to her, staring at her as if it had a witty remark to make. “What?” she asked, staring back, “Yes, I just rubbed salt to the wound of a dead person. I never asked for this power, okay?” she shrugged, rolling her eyes behind her mask.

               “The caravans should be fine by now. I’m ready to head home, or more like teleport home,” her crystal glowed one last time for the day.

I hope the story was worth the bazillion times of remaking because holy shit, isn’t it difficult to write at least an ok👌 fiction. This story may confuse you if you haven't read the previous part here.

Anyway, I hope you’re still alive there, and here’s the character from the story, The Owl:

^{There she was, a figure dressed in purple with a mask that resembled an owl's face, standing confidently with one foot rested on a rock. She cocked her rifle and took aim towards the treeline below.}

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She’s a sharpshooter with the ability to summon ghostly wings that can create powerful wind slash, cast illusion, and of course, help her fly. She can also telepathically ‘connect’ with owls across the land and see things from their perspectives. Since she can control their movements as well, she’s pretty much possessing them, you could say. She can then switch place with said owl she connects with if need be.

But, connect-and-switch-places sounds rather mouthful, which is why she simply refer it as "teleport".

^{Relaxed pose}

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Anyway, pretty much like other 3D artists, I find sculpting stylized fur difficult to do. Achievable, yes, but difficult. That’s what I thought when I created The Wolf, which was the second character of this “Gratitude” project. I even heard it from Mike Morton who was a senior 3D artist at Lionhead Studio which was known for the Fable series.

That was until I started making The Owl’s crisscrossing outfit. It can be a bit tricky to make which layer of cloth is on top and which one should be beneath, which makes the mirror function can be destructive. Respect for artists who create real-life sculpture without the help of CTRL+Z button or mirror feature. You people are amazing. 👍

^{Front and back views}

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So I spent quite a while making it look convincing and meet the shape that I imagined without ‘downgrading’ it to some degree. The process was difficult, the result is worth it, if I may say so myself.

If only I can animate. I’d love to see my characters in action. Of course, I can learn animation just like I do 3D modelling. There are a ton of guides, tutorials, and people who are willing to help out there. My motivated self screams “YES”, but my laptop says “Nein!”.

^{Close up}

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Thank you @ryivhnn the writing advice, as usual, my laptop for staying strong, and Blender 2.82 for... existing, I guess? And thank you for visiting my post! Artists and writers on Hive, I'm open for criticism.

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Art commission info:
Character Portrait | 3D Print-Ready Model

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