Every patron in the building was ignoring him now. They hadn’t when the poor soul made his way down the stairs earlier that morning, it was as if the building itself made sure everyone was alerted of his presence. The weak light of day shining through the windows made a dull blue-ish shine appear on his ebony feathers as he walked past everyone. The creature had the hood of his long, green cloak over his head but it made no difference, everyone could still see what he was.
The attention eventually left him, people actually began to actively ignore the strange fellow as he sat at the end of the bar right in the corner. He’d asked the bartender for a pint of water when he sat, who proceeded to almost throw it onto the bar, spilling water onto his shirt. His face was not one for making expressions, but even with his long, black beak, it was as if he was frowning. Full of misery.
The feathered fellow was used to this kind of treatment as he had been dealing with it for about a year at this point, his race was seemingly infamous for being shifty and untrustworthy types. The stereotype made him furious, but not for the reason that most would think. He didn’t belong in a body like this one. He wasn’t born with his smooth black feathers, dark beak, clawed hands, and his grey-blue, round eyes. This crow-like form wasn’t him. It had been forced upon him as a punishment for a mistake he had made long ago.
The bar went silent after a sudden shriek pierced the air, almost immediately being followed by people pushing past each other and clearing a path. The miserable eyes of the Kenku glanced towards the commotion - the rest of his body making no other sign of movement - then looked up to the ceiling with disdain before turning his attention back to his drink. The thing that had caused the shock was a fox trotting down the stairs and making its way towards the grumpy-looking creature.
A shriek and all of the avoidance would probably seem like an overreaction to just a fox, but this one was like no other as it was covered in burns, even part of its skull was showing through its face. The animal seemed ghostly in nature, like it had been brought back from the dead. In fact, that was exactly what happened. The creature leapt up onto the barstool next to the Kenku, seemingly in no pain at all, and sat quite politely while looking up at him.
“Thought I told you to leave me be.” The Kenku grumbled in varying different voices.
“Can’t do that, master, I will always stay by your side and serve you.” The fox replied, being heard by no one else in the bar.
“Don’t call me that.”
“But you are my master, sir. Silvanus Himself declared it so.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Why’re you talkin’ teh yerself?” Another bartender asked, a muscular, rough-looking lady.
“I’m talking to this damn animal, not myself.”
“Righ’. So what’s your story then?”
His story. Where to even start? The poor creature would often think back on it with crushing regret and sadness. Despite still being young, it was the lowest moment of his life. He could remember it vividly.
The day was clear and beautiful, fluffy clouds were dotted around the sky and floated along slowly in the breeze. A small but lovely village made among the trees, roots, and dirt mounds, populated by many happy-looking druidic Firbolg folk. Their noses and ears were cow-like, their skin covered in short, fluffy fur while large amounts of it gathered at the top of their heads like hair. One among them was a young boy in his young teenage years, his big, green eyes looking around at the lush trees and flora surrounding his home, dark green hair flowing down to his shoulders. He was feeling happy.
