Flock is a lean, medium-sized aarakocra with charcoal-gray feathers tipped in rust red, long black talons, and bright amber eyes. His wings are broad and slightly ragged at the outer edges from years of rooftop flights and hurried escapes. He dresses in worn leather armor beneath a dark travel coat, with a tiny silver bell tied to one wrist and a battered lute case strapped across his back. His speaking voice is unexpectedly low and dry for a birdfolk, while his old bardic training emerges in precise rhythm and theatrical timing. When frightened, his breath comes in rapid clicking chirps and his feathers lift along his neck and shoulders. His hands are nimble and unusually callused across the fingertips from strings, lockpicks, and constant handling of thieves tools.

Flock is quick-witted, theatrical, and suspicious of anyone who speaks with absolute certainty. He treats conversation like a performance, testing people with false compliments, sudden pauses, and carefully chosen changes in tone. Beneath the swagger is a deeply loyal survivor who wants to belong to a troupe again, though he would rather call it a crew than admit he misses having a family.

Flock was once the lead performer of the Rooftop Refrain, a traveling aarakocra troupe that played taverns, markets, and noble balconies. He had a talent for turning a crowd's attention exactly where he wanted it, which made him valuable to more than honest audiences. While his bandmates played, Flock learned to lift purses, copy keys, and pass coded messages through improvised verses. He told himself it was clever theater, until one of his patrons demanded a performance that concealed a murder in plain sight. Flock refused, and the criminal syndicate answered by burning the troupe's instruments and scattering its members. Flock survived by taking smaller jobs, but his confidence collapsed with every failed performance. During a desperate burglary, he found a black feather tucked inside a sealed music box. When he played the box's silent mechanism like a lute, something answered from the darkness between notes. The entity offered him power enough to make every audience listen again. Flock accepted, though he still does not know whether his patron is a fiend, a dead composer, or the echo of every lie he ever sang. Now he works as a warlock and thief, seeking the surviving members of the Rooftop Refrain while trying to discover what his patron truly wants from the final verse.