In a dimly lit, cozy bar tucked away in a forgotten corner of the city, humanoid ravens gather for a night of relaxation. Above the wooden bar counter, a neon sign flickers in electric blue and pink, proudly spelling out "Crow BAR." The soft glow from the sign reflects off the feathers of the raven patrons, adding a surreal shimmer to the atmosphere. Perched on stools, they sip pints of foamy beer from mugs clutched in their black, clawed hands. Some scroll through smartphones, their beady eyes scanning the screens with quick taps of their talons. Behind the counter, the bartender—a tall, sleek-feathered raven—polishes a glass with one hand, while casually texting with the other. The low hum of conversation fills the room as they exchange stories of the day, beaks clicking in laughter or deep in thought. Above them, the walls are adorned with old pictures and trinkets, giving the bar a lived-in, almost secretive feel, as though only those who know of its existence can find it.