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Ivern grumbled, but he didn’t say no. Not to the hopeful look on Haft’s face, despite the ridiculousness of the request. He sighed and said he’d see what he could do.
Ivern could do quite a lot, actually. Haft must have salvaged the delicate bones from the leavings of someone’s chicken dinner, but he’d carefully cleaned and polished them before he’d brought them to Ivern. The ethereal finished creation – no true construct – contrasted sharply with the Warforged’s solid construction, but Haft was gentle when he picked it up and delighted when he wound the key that made the raven fly.