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My name is Zrylnar Kri’gon, I grew up with my family on the small floating Island of Shav’lyran which means sanctuary in the sky, which is only a few square miles. It is constantly moving, and never in the same place over the Ryin’sarla meaning scarred surface. The legend among my people is that our ancenstors were magically created. Mixing the intelligence and wisdom of humans with the strength and dexterity of griffins. We have the upper body of a human on the body of a griffin. Our island moves very swiftly in the currents of air, for some odd reason tending to stay in the more temperate regions throughout the year. The island is very mountainous on the windy side of the island, and is our buffer from the wind. There are only about ninety of my kind left. There were at one point over 200 of us here, but while intervening in an epic surface war most of them were slaughtered. That was over a millenia ago. We fly down to the surface world to hunt wild beasts and other evil beings. We keep an eye on the human civilizations that we pass by, and if they are being invaded or need our help we do whatever we can do to protect them. During one such intervention, ten of our best fighters and I found a town that was being invaded by several wizards and odd creatures. Some of my companions were killed in the fight, thankfully most of them got away before being killed. However, I was badly injured and was unable to fly back to our island. I was captured by the evil wizared and tortured. I was examined, poked prodded, and everything else possible. One day, several months later, one of the wizard’s cohorts was able to sneak in and let me free. I wandered for nearly a year, trying to learn more about the surface world. To find somewhere that I might be able to figure how to get back to my island. Even to find a place where I would be accepted and bring some good to the world. I found the capital of magic, the largest city in the lands. There must be some answers here.