Where the Greater Satyr were marked by their own war-leaders, the Lesser Satyr were marked by something that wanted to use them. A dark fey lord, in an age the Lesser Satyr no longer date, bound a satyr band into a better terror-troop for its own retinue. The binding pared them to what such work needs and left out the rest: leaner bodies, movement gone twitchy and frantic, a laugh pitched to unsettle, and a turn of mind that reaches for the ambush before it reaches for a fair blow. It was meant for one band in one war. It bred true instead, and every Lesser Satyr since has come down from that band, still falling in with the trains of dark fey and chaotic armies as though the old binding still owed them a master.
They are bloodthirsty tricksters who revel in confusion and fear, most themselves spreading panic and pandemonium ahead of a larger force. To a Lesser Satyr a fair fight is a boring fight. Ambush, misdirection, and terror are the tools of the trade.
Aspects
- Panic and pandemonium
- Never fight fair