Albari

Albari are magical bird-creatures equally comfortable in the void between worlds and the phlogiston. A long, nearly human face ends in a broad beak, with small slanted eyes and no visible ears, though their hearing is sharp. Short, oily plumage covers it, shading from white to a sooty gray, with males on the lighter end. Wings can span nine feet, with small clawed hands halfway along used for simple jobs like eating. Finer work is done with the feet, each having three taloned toes and a heavy clawed thumb; albari habitually stand on one leg and handle objects with the other. They speak a shrill native tongue plus trade cants and many spacefaring languages.

They avoid fights. Aloft they rake with two talons for 1d3 each; grounded, they peck for 1-2 and then claw with one foot for 1d3.

Illusion is their true weapon. All can turn invisible at will. Twice daily each they cast blur, change self, misdirection and ventriloquism, and once daily each dream, hallucinatory terrain, mislead and phantasmal killer. Their whims shift too fast to predict tactics, but expect them to baffle enemies with illusions and then flee.

Their mischief has a method: an albari fixes on a plan, say getting a ship hopelessly lost, and sticks to it for 1d6 days before usually switching, so it may work to doom a vessel and then labor to save it. A dream spell on a passing captain to change his course is classic. They sometimes ally briefly with creatures like murderoids to lure ships to ruin, yet also guide ships to treasure for little reward. Best of all, they love shadowing a ship into battle, then flying to its foe to spill everything they know, truthfully or not.

Needing air, they often ride invisibly inside a ship's air envelope in the phlogiston, casting a spell now and then to keep things lively, or stow away in the magical guise of some small humanoid, a rock hopper perhaps, or a halfling. Pairs mate between pranks. Chicks spend a few weeks in a sloppy nest tucked anywhere hidden, sometimes in the middle of a busy port.

Most intelligent races hate them, and web-eel slavers kill them on sight. Their meat is tough and foul and their feathers too oily for decoration, though a handful of worlds treat specially processed pillows stuffed with their feathers as luxury goods, prized for rarity rather than comfort.