Kenku is a lean, raven-like humanoid standing about 5 feet tall, with charcoal-black feathers that show blue-green highlights in bright light. His narrow beak is chipped at the tip, and his lower jaw shifts noticeably when he eats, giving his expressions an oddly deliberate quality. He wears a dark leather jerkin beneath a patched travel cloak, soft-soled boots, and a belt crowded with pouches, hooks, and bits of cord. His eyes are bright and watchful, constantly measuring exits, hands, and unattended valuables.

Kenku is cautious, observant, and outwardly amused by danger. He speaks through carefully selected sounds and copied voices, preferring a merchant's reassuring tone, a guard's command, or a tavern server's cheerful call to anything he considers his own voice. He is not needlessly cruel, but he is willing to lie, cheat, and steal when survival is at stake. Suspicion is his armor, humor is his lockpick, and silence is his favorite answer.

Kenku learned early that hunger makes people honest about what they value. Raised among alleyway nests and rented lofts, he survived by taking food, loose coins, and small objects that would not be missed until he was already gone. He became useful to a burglary crew because he could reproduce a watchman's whistle, a landlord's cough, or a familiar voice calling from the other side of a door. His talent made him valuable, but never trusted. The crew praised his memory while hiding their purses whenever he entered the room. He eventually left after a job went wrong and the others abandoned him with the blame. Since then, Kenku steals only enough to eat, pay for a bed, or replace equipment. He avoids grand scores because large crimes require partners, and partners require faith. He has joined adventurers because a moving target is harder to arrest than a resident criminal, and because dangerous work sometimes pays in meals, shelter, and the rare companion who does not count the silverware after dinner.