Apparently, this guy's name was Marx, and he was a self proclaimed jester. Another thing of note is how he began to panic at his lack of wings.

"Where are they!? WHERE ARE MY WINGS!?!?"

"Dude, chill-"

"I WILL NOT 'CHILL'!!! MY WINGS ARE GONE!!!"

Magolor backed up, frightened by this short creature's outburst.

"Okay, okay! Let me assess the damage first! My question is why did it take you a whole hour after being capable of movement that you then noticed your wings were gone."

"SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!!!!"

Okay, okay, just, let me take a look, please." Marx calmed down, at least enough for Magolor to take a look.

"There's burns. Lots of them. Though they look decently healed. Tell me, how did such an injury occur?"

Marx's face darkened, and he curled into himself as best he could.

"I don't wanna talk about it..."

The mage nodded, "I understand," how couldn't he? He too had his own share of secrets he wished to not tell.

"Do they still hurt?"

The small jester nodded, sagging down a bit, "Yeah, just a little..."

"Your shoes look like bread."

"KILL YOURSELF!!!"