A rather somberly dressed fellow, though well clad, can be seen leaning against a tree on the edge of Jastrey. He is obviously armed (to the teeth, I might add) with daggers and a rapier: The sword on his hip, low, ready for action, and knives secreted around his person, far too many to count. His boots were obviously of quality, buut well-worn, his clothes were from a foreign tailor, and his eyes were constatly shifting as he rolled a black cigarette. He smelled of wilted flowers and freshlyturned soil, with just a hint of smoke. Frighteningly like a graveyard... He struck a match on his boot and took a long drag on his smoke, letting whisps of blue gray play through the air about his face. His eyes never stopped moving, taking in everything in discrete but great detail. His face was A pair of leathery wings were folded about him, black flecked with gold and red,they shifted uneasily, as did the rest of him. He;d obviously not slept in a long, long time.
Ridlan notices the shady character and eyes him curiously, finally deciding upon walking up to him as nonchallantly as possible, "Hello stranger, got another smoke?"