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All information on the current country can be found here:
Jagtooth Range; on the sharp tooth of land overlooking the vast Eye of Sago.
Sunny and clear, very hot. Sunlight glints off of warm waters.
Xavanth (Blazeh), Freydis (Bagel)
The cry of a seagull sounded loudly close by; white wings tipped in grey sheared through wispy clouds as a large bird joined countless others, soaring above a calm blue sea. Sunlight glinted down on waves that caressed a sandy beach and crashed against a sheer cliffside, spraying water against glistening rock.
A figure watched the gulls as they flew, perched upon the cliff's edge. It was a male, humanoid, tall and thin; he had long black hair that stuck up and blew in the wind, and wore a plethora of accessories all about his person. The sun gleamed on earrings and rings, the studs in a bracelet, several bangles, and an amulet around his throat. His clothing, however, was simple - a light tunic and black breeches, with tall boots that were unadorned.
Most noticeable were his non-human features, however. Sharply pointed ears hinted at elven heritage, while sharp claws tipped each finger. Fangs could be seen as he yawned, and while one eye was a deep gold, the other was a sharp red, cat-slitted and dark. A demon he was, from the Kingdom of Pestilence.
Xavanth had come here to get away from the veritable prison that was his current home: the Crystal Fortress in Vystriana. He looked peaceful and calm - but there was an odd... darkness in his eyes. A shadow, a blankness, lit by curiosity and confusion as he beheld the world, deep in thought.
He remembered nothing of his previous life. When he'd woken in the Fortress, much to the joy of the gryphon who had guarded him, he knew nothing - not even basic language, or his own name. Not even who or what he was or had been. Knowledge came slowly, experience at a crawl, fed by a deep hunger to find out all that he had lost.
The first thing that they had taught him was communication. He could speak again, on some level; he knew his name, and the land of his origin, but couldn't reach it as he knew nothing of what it looked like. All descriptions he was given wove awkward images of twisted chaos, a world the half-demon struggled to comprehend.
Memory had yet to return. Brief flashes had entered his mind, through dreams and daydreams, triggered by some unseen feeling or object of study. He had been forbidden by the she-gryphon to go outside of the Fortress, though - but that... that was where he needed to be. He needed to escape to learn. And thus, he had found himself here.
One of the gulls flew low overhead; Xavanth looked up, and watched it land not ten feet away. It peered at him curiously, and he it, before it fluffed its feathers and settled against a sun-bleached rock. With a sigh, the demon looked back to the ocean - back to the great whirlpool in the great distance, wondering where he might recover more of his broken memory.
Not that he could get there. Or... get back.
How did portals work when the one using them had lost all knowledge of the Realms?