The trees are a strange bunch. No patience for fools, yet here they were, telling Ruffle all their secrets.
- Race: Kenku
- Background: Hermit - Discovery
- Class: Nature domain Cleric
- Alignment: Chaotic Good
- Personality traits: Isolated for so long that they rarely speak, preferring gestures and the occasional grunt.
Oblivious to etiquette and social expectations. - Ideals: Greater Good. Their gifts are meant to be shared with all, not used for their own benefit.
- Bonds: Seeking the enlightenment they pursued in seclusion, and it still eludes them.
- Flaws: Dogmatic in their thoughts and philosophy.
Mugging halflings is a good source of coin and tasty food, but the gods don't approve. Seeking repentance among the trees leads to a lighter mind and a lighter stomach. Pray on mossy stones. See the light through the leaves. Watch the world grow old.
No more crying halflings...
I eat berries now.
Tread the soil in the forest. Feel the rain on my feathers.
Hiding in the forest is a good way to watch time go by, but the gods don't approve. "Walk far and strike true", they said. Best not to anger the gods again.
Thank you for the berries.
Their true name is the sound of leaves ruffling while being hurriedly pushed aside by an animal. For those who are unable to pronounce this sound, "Ruffle" is perfectly acceptable.
A few, speckled grey feathers in what would otherwise be a jet back plumage, a grimy orange beak and talons, and big, black, bulbous, confused-looking eyes. This Kenku is scruffy, dirty, and probably hasn't had a conversation with anything smarter than a squirrel in quite some time.
Several layers of ragged clothes are wrapped over their body, a large, thick canvas is draped over their pack, giving them a hunch-backed appearance.
An open bag of berries is tied to their large walking stick, it bobbles around as they walk. The Kenku fidgets with frustration when a couple berries escape and fall to the ground.
As a fledgling, Ruffle learnt how to get food and gold from the halflings. The process was simple. Wait for some halflings to venture into the forest. Jump out and squawk at them. Flash a blade. Kick the tallest one to the ground. Kick it again for good measure. Grab their pouches and bags, and release them.
Eventually, though, seeing tearful halflings run away terrified began to hurt in a way they didn't understand. And the trees Ruffle would hide among began to show their disappointment, their anger.
One day, Ruffle walked into deep into the forest, looking for... Well that was just it, wasn't it? What were they looking for? A way out? Forgiveness? Some time to think? They began to pray. They stopped at every mossy stone, every wisened old tree, and would sit and talk. In a language Ruffle didn't truly understand. The trees are a strange bunch. No patience for fools, yet here they were, telling Ruffle all their secrets.
And then, twenty six years later, they told Ruffle to go forth, go walk the world.