A figure stood on the edge of a cliff, gazing out under a roof of stars on the night sky. Below, a mile away through forest, sat a small town. The town may have been small, but it was big enough to have a thriving Tavern and Bar industry. The figure extended a hand. Both the hand and arm were light grey and furry, with a dark grey stripe running down the side. It was grasping a small golden orb, and as the orb was pointed towards the town, it startet to glow brighter and make a small humming sound.

So thats where you are

The figure returned its hand under its robe and stood for a few moments. Then its walked forwards and plumeted down the side of the cliff. Faster it decended until half way down when its cloak flew aside and reveled a pair of large, blue, leathery wings. The outstreached wings were enough to slow down the firgure and it flapped them once or twice so that when it reached the bottom, the figure barly noticed the landing. The figure re-adjusted the robes over its wings and started running towards the town at great speed. The were people to find. A few people. But only one was on the figures mind now

Ryvaken Tal'Draco

((The Most Remarkable Adventures is more-or-less one year old. The second part crashed and burned shortly before the fourms wiped the existing threads/accounts.))

Ryvaken Tadrya sat in a bar. That was really all he could tell anyone; his perceptions didn't go much farther than the steaming mug in his hand. The brown liquid inside wafted in his nose invitingly, though the fairly large sphere of emptiness around him suggested he was alone in that opinion.

Tadrya was a towering 6.01 inches tall, possessed with three matching pairs of wings on his back. At present they were layered, flat against his back as if a cape.

He was not extraordinary-looking by faerie standards. He wore a tunic of silk that was neither tight nor baggy and trousers made from worked leather. His left shoulder sported a patch of leather, emblazoned with a symbol of a lightning bolt on a drawn bow. Across his back he had strapped a hand-carved bow, under which was a quiver worked from wolfhide, bizare symbols embroidered along the top. It seemed to be full, though only four arrows were visible, each with a different colored fletch.

---

Six inches of cute brooding war hero.

The figure stood at the end of a wide street on the edge of the town. The street was littered with various night-time populous, such as drunks, pick-pockets and various women of "delight". One pick-pocket was busy re-distributing the welth of a drunk man sleeping againt a wall.
The figure raised the orb again and turned it until it started glowing and humming again. It was directing its owner towards a tavern in the middle of the street. The front of the tavern was flooded with light, as the door was wide open, ready to receive sober customers and eject drunk or broke ones. The figure strode over to the door and walked inside

Ryvaken didn't notice the activity. The tiny mug had a few shavings of bark that were beginning to show; he's need some more whiskey to wash the rest away in. He waved to the bartender, the motion somewhat clumsy and utterly incomprehensible.

---

Six inches of cute brooding war hero.

The figure stood in the doorway. Lukaly, the only person who had given him any attention was the bar-keep. The man had looked over and given a slow nod of approval before going back to cleaning the mug in his hands. The figure walked over to the bar and placed two gold coins down on the beer-soaked wood

"Cider...strongest you've got"

The bar-keep raised an eyebrow momentarily before taking the coins and filling a tankared with the vile, acidic liquid. He passed it to the figure and watched with little curiosity as a grey, furred hand lifted the drink to the hood and empty the entire contents into what could only be, the bar-keep thought, some soft of cast iron container

It wouldnt surprise him if he was right. The truth might though.

The hooded figure turned towards the side of the bar. It raised the orb and turned it unitl it started glowing again. Straight ahead was a tall burly man, maybe 6ft, drinking from a large mug of ale. The figure reached over and tapped the man on the shoulder

"Excuse me...but is your name Ryvaken?"

The man turned and glowered, then walked off. The faerie behind him was focused on a tiny, mostly empty mug.

---

Six inches of cute brooding war hero.

The figure stood for a while

Realisation dawned on him

He lifted the orb just to make sure

"Uhh...Ryvaken?"

Ryvaken lifted his head and looked in his general direction. "Neh?"

---

Six inches of cute brooding war hero.

The figure stood in silence for a while before sitting down next to the faerie

"I was expecting someone...err...taller...and less drunk"

Ryvaken blinked. "You were expecting me to be human why now? And who the hell are you?"

---

Six inches of cute brooding war hero.

"Well...the original you was human..ish. And Im Ben"

The figure drew the hood of its cloak back. Its face was covered in light grey fur and a dark grey stripe running down the side of its face. Its fetures were clearly feline, what with the pointy ears, nose, wiskers and yellow eyes. It had a mass of black hair, wild and untamed. This showed it was Male

"Ben Katt"

Ryvaken looked at his mug, then at Ben. "One of us is very, very confused."

---

Six inches of cute brooding war hero.

"No, one of us is too drunk"

He placed two more gold coins on the bar

"And the other isnt drunk enough"

Ryvaken dug into a pocket sewn onto the bottom of his quiver and produced a tiny silver piece. The coin did not get larger, but somehow when it hit the table it had become a standard-sized coin. "Elmwood this time, skip the whiskey."

---

Six inches of cute brooding war hero.

The pair sat in silence for a while, drinking their drinks.

After a while, Ben spoke up

"So...is there anywhere we could talk in private? I need to explain things to you"