Raven Born

The bartender was shocked, his mouth agape at this old man, "What the hell are you?"

The old man sighed a little as he readjusted his stance, "You can call me Wotan. I am just a scholar," he smirked a little.

The bartender was silent as Wotan walked out, his gait was labored. The market outside the bar was bustling with stands selling everything from clothes to food to toys. The air was filled with the smell of smoked meats and cooked vegetables.

Wotan started to weave through the crowd to an alleyway, going into a door on the left-hand side. The room was messy with books, newspapers, and feathers of his raven, Artur.

He removed his robes and cowl, showing a toned body. His torso was covered in multiple scars that crisscrossed. Artur was perched on his perch, he cawed as Wotan showed his face.

He was wrinkled and old, showing his age of maybe seventy.

"Artur, old friend. My eyes and ears. What did you see?" His eyes changed to a pale orange.

Artur was flying around the main city, bustling and loud. On one roof was a large figure. It was about seven feet tall with dark clothing, his eyes were glowing softly. He cawed and perched on a chimney a few houses down from where the figure stood.

"Ah, Mael. It's been so long," Wotan smiled a little as the figure looked at Artur, his eyes were like red spotlights.

"Artur, is that you?" His voice was deeper, "Old friend Wotan, it's been a while," he pet Artur on the back of his head.