Jholan Seetrij

Jholan Seetrij rides rooftops on broad, folded wings, beak ticking against a file he uses to shave lockpicks thinner. Under dusty mottled feathers and a grey hood, they wear a ring of heavy keys—stolen, always. Law-abiding paperwork fronts for a lawful evil crew: stamped permits, numbered bribes, contracts with the clean corners torn out. When thinking, they peck their talon-marks into wax, then sell the location to the highest bidder.