Myrrath Quenlure

Myrrath Quenlure keeps a ledger of prayers copied from other mouths, then marked with the moments they went wrong. A flightless kenku with black feathers stuck with ash and rain, they peck out syllables with a raven beak and scratch claw-marks into wax seals before they speak. Their cleric pouch rattles with bone tokens—each one a confession they won’t repeat, only atone for.