Julian took the broom that was presented to him, peering around him curiously. "The tavern that has no name huh?" He quickly set the broom to the side and strolled to the nearest table with food and took a deep whiff of the aroma. It seemed all too familiar. He reached down and plucked a piece of meat out of the bowl before giving it a sniff, much to the yells of the patron who owned that particular bowl of stew. 

He straightened as he popped the piece of meat into his mouth. "Many thanks," he told the grumbling woman before he turned back to the barkeep, chewing idly as he did so. "A little chewy," he commented before he swallowed and started picking at his teeth with a long claw. 

"So," he said as he took a seat at the bar, all but forget about the broom and mess she had just told him to clean up. "Where in the great world is this tavern with no name because none of you," he gestured with a hand to incorporate all who were in the tavern, "have a single feather. Not a one. What's it like not being able to fly?"