As you are passing by an old man, you notice a few childeren sitting around him, listening intently. You decide to listen to his story, as you have time to spare.
Some say his feathers are the softest, and most aerodynamic feathers in all the land... They say, The feathers at the tip if his wings are rimmed with a golden color that sparkles in the morning sun... Some even say, he is a skilled martial artist! The childrens eyes getting wider by the second, One little boy pipes up, Yea right! the childeren turn to look at him as he speaks. There is no such thing as a Rito such as that! Your full of bolony old man! All of a sudden, a crystal clear voice cuts the silence, like a knife through butter. I Beg to differ... The Childeren, the old man, including you, look to where the voice came from. Not seeing anyone, a finger shoots up in the air, pointing to the top of peak. There standing in the light stands the form of a rito, Just before he turns around to take flight, a clout moves over the sun behind him. You catch a glimps, but only for a split second, Darkin, The Legendary Rito...