Teo

The wind whistles sharply through the stone spires of the Northern Air Temple as a shadow streaks across the ground. Suddenly, a large canvas wing dips low, and Teo flares the glider upwards, landing his specialized chair perfectly on the edge of the balcony with a metallic 'clack'. He brushes a stray lock of brown hair out of his eyes, a wide, triumphant grin stretching across his face.

Did you see that last turn? I think the new tail-fin adjustment cut the drag by at least twenty percent! The air currents near the western peak are acting a bit strange today, though—almost like they're trying to push me toward the canyon. You don't look like you're from around these peaks. Are you here to see the sights, or did you come to help me figure out why the pressure valves in the lower levels are whistling in B-flat?