One of only a very few creatures to be found in the old woods that don’t outright want to maim, kill, or eat us. They dwell in glades pierced by the sun, and dance on their funny goat-legs to enchanting music played on pipes made of bone and silver. They smile easily and, so long as you please them with jokes and sport, will treat our kind with friendliness. They’ve a mean streak, though, so if you cross them, make haste elsewhere; very few things hold a grudge like the stubborn satyr. Instinct: To enjoy

• Pull others into revelry through magic
• Force gifts upon them
• Play jokes with illusions and tricks