On the Subject of the Origin of Satyrs

As the group smokes beside a fireplace at the satyr homestead, the eldest satyr brother, Terry, regales the party with a story.

"In a time long past, when the world was still being shaped by the Old Magic, when the humans were still swinging through the trees and the Orcs were dining on reptile flesh, the beast god Xengral dreamed a dream that took root in the fertile fabric of our plane. Beings were dragged into existence, created in his ephemeral image. These beings had the ability to take any shape they pleased. Sometimes they chose to exist as stones, rivers, and trees, enjoying the wisdom of simplicity. Other times they existed as mortal creatures. Grazing, hunting, dying, rebirth. They were reflections of the gods' masterwork. These were our ancestors.

This age lasted for millennia, but over time the world began to settle, and the Old Magic began to disappear. Those with foresight saw that the death of the Old Magic would drain them of their ability to change form, so they gathered their kin and prepared to make the hard decision: chaos or order. Some decided to remain faithful to their patriarch, Xengral, and take forms that reflected the chaos of the wilds. These are centaurs and beastfolk of the southern continent. Some saw order and civilization as the path forward, emulating the intellect of the elves and dwarves. Among them are the infernals, who adapted their forms to the bitter cold of the north. And still others were unable to make up their minds. These were the last to take permanent shapes, long after all the fertile regions of the world had been claimed by others. These are the satyrs: a people both blessed and cursed with true freedom."