Stepping cautiously through the door, the light dimming your vision, you put up a hand to shield your eyes from the sun.  You feel something between your toes, then look down to see that the ground is covered in sand, and you also notice that, for some odd reason, you are barefoot.  Wondering what you've gotten yourself into, you look back just in time to see the door close, then, inexplicably, disappear.  Stumbling back to where the door was, you put out your hand, and as you feel something solid, the door comes back into view.  Taking your hand away, it disappears again, then reaching out, it reappears.  You go on in this fashion a couple more moments, trying to figure out how it works, but after a while you reach for the handle and tug the door open.  Satisfied that the door, indeed, will come back open, you turn back to the business at hand of finding out where in the /world/ you are.  Or if this is even your world.

    Looking around for the first time, you realize that you are on a beach, apparently at high tide.  A line of palm trees gives way to a wooded area beyond, so you set out toward the underbrush, confident that Vanetin would have warned you if there was anything to fear from these new worlds.  In the distance, you hear a strange hooting noise, but you figure that it is a local animal's call.  Setting forth, you take in your surroundings, but suddenly, you almost trip!  Looking down to see what almost made you fall, you see a large dip in the ground, perhaps three feet across, rounded at one end and with spikes pressed into the other.  Wondering what could have made such a strange mark on the ground, you lean down to see closer, hearing the hooting in the background of your thoughts, and absently noting that it sounds closer this time than before.
    Absorbed by your investigations of the ground marking, you don't notice the faint rustling of the bushes behind you, nor do you see the strangely parrot-like face that sticks itself between fern fronds to eye you intently.  You even put it out of your mind when that very face comes closer, on a body about the size and shape of a large hog, save for the tail, which resembles that of an extremely large lizard.  However, you do notice, and quite violently at that, when the hog-parrot clears its throat to you.  In fact, your 'noticing' of it includes you jumping no less than three feet in the air, with an intricate twist of the hips that turns you to face the creature, but also succeeds in causing you to land in a less than comfortable position on your derrier.  This less than graceful landing of yours is forgotten almost immediately as you gawk intently at the hog-parrot for several moments.  Seeing that this is not getting it anywhere, the beast, again, clears its throat, then offers, a bit apologetically, "That seems like it hurt."  Eyes widening even more at the sound of its voice, you push yourself backwards with your legs, crabwalking until you hit a large solid object.  Quickly glancing up to see what you've hit, you figure it's a tree, then go back to gawking uncontrollably at the creature in front of you.  But then, suddenly, you look up again, more precisely, and remember that trees, no matter how big, do not have heads.  It is around this time that you faint.