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Message: <blockquote data-quote="shilsen" data-source="post: 4112275" data-attributes="member: 198">A few hours later, the Angels are back in Flamekeep with Jaela Daran. After they explain to the Keeper about the portal and everything that they experienced, she nods gravely and says, “That is worrying, but not surprising. There will be more opening soon, I’m sure.” The little girl sighs. “The war with Xoriat is upon us. Now we must deal with it as best we can. To that end, I have spoken to the monarchs of the remaining nations. We are due to meet five days later. Will you be there?”“Certainly.”“Good. You have had much to do with these events, and I would like your voices to be heard there. The meeting will occur at Thronehold.” She indicates a high window to the east. Though the Angels cannot see through it, they recall the first view they had of Flamekeep and the glimpsing of the island castle in the distance, from which the kings and queens of Galifar had ruled before the Last War. “I chose it,” Jaela continues, “Because it is the one truly neutral place in all of Khorvaire, and the signing of the Thronehold Accords there at the end of the Last War makes it the appropriate place. And the rulers would likely not want to meet at any one other place, especially in anyone’s kingdom. Well, perhaps Boranel would, as would I, but not Aurala or Kaius. I also hope to get as many of the others who were involved in the Thronehold Accords involved, and maybe others. Oh, I have been contacted by Sora Teraza, saying that she is interested in sending a delegation from Droaam too. I am not surprised, even though I had not contacted her first or informed her of the meeting.”“We have met her,” says Gareth, “And I’m not surprised either. We found that she is a very talented seer.”“Just don’t let her sister show up,” says Korm, “Either of her sisters!”Jaela smiles slightly, but her mind is clearly not on humor. “There is another reason I want you present. I do not normally leave the Cathedral, since my powers are significantly diminished when I leave here, and there is always the risk of assassination. But at this moment, the risk is certainly worth taking. And if the daelkyr and their minions want to completely destabilize Khorvaire, they would only need to kill the people who will be at this meeting. I will ensure that there is strong security, and the Deneith Throne Wardens, who have guarded Thronehold since the Last War began, will be there. And the leaders will bring their own security too. But your presence would be especially helpful in case of trouble.”“We will be there,” says Nameless. “We are planning to go to Argonnessen and see if we can learn more about the Dimensional Seals and how to again seal Khorvaire off from Xoriat. It seems only the dragons have that knowledge, so we must go there.”“That does seem wise. Nobody that I know of has ever returned from the land of the dragons, but then you have done many things that nobody else has. I shall contact you via sending if I need to. May the Flame watch over you.”* * *As if the rest of the day had not been busy enough, the Angels find themselves with many more things to do, places to go, and people to meet, once they return to Sharn. When they arrive, Fett informs them that Surr’kal had stopped by to ask them to speak to Gurr’khan, who is at Carosten Park. They proceed there and do so, informing Gurr’khan (since Surr’kal excuses himself, claiming that he’s probably better off not knowing any more) of all that has occurred and what they have discovered. After the aged Gatekeeper spends a couple of minutes rocking back and forth and muttering to himself, to the dark amusement of Korm and Luna, he wearily asks them to accompany him to the Shadow Marches and speak to Saala. After the requisite sending and reply, Nameless transports the group over a thousand miles to the east, to where the leader of the Gatekeepers awaits.Saala, as usual, takes things more phlegmatically than Gurr’khan. After being apprised of the situation, she says that she expected something of the kind ever since she saw the giant sign in the sky. She adds some more information of her own, saying that she has received positive replies from the Eldeen Reaches regarding the war that is coming. She has traveled there to speak to the greatpine Oalian himself, who has promised the aid of the Wardens of the Wood. Saala also mentions that though the other druidic sects, such as the Ashbound, the Children of Winter and the Greensingers, are normally not particularly friendly with the Gatekeepers, she is sure they too will take up arms against such an enemy. Before leaving, the Angels inform her too that they are on their way to Argonnessen, and promise to contact her with whatever they learn, especially what pertains to the Seals.Once back in Sharn again, the Angels split up to visit and talk to the various people that they need to. Nameless visits Trillia, while Gareth goes to Lalia. Nameless’ former mentor is understandably fascinated and alarmed with the news of the portal and the impending arrival of the hordes of Xoriat. Lalia is similarly interested and concerned, though more about Gareth than anything else. When he explains that he is going to see the dragons, she is more than a little surprised, pointing out that nobody has ever traveled into Argonnessen and returned. Gareth explains that there are few other options at this point, and promises to take care, before leaving her.Six goes to Morgrave University to obtain whatever information he can about Argonnessen. He learns that the continent of the dragons is four thousand miles away. Off the north-western coast of the continent is the large island of Seren, home to the barbarian tribes of the same name. They claim to be the guardians of Argonnessen and each of the thirty or so tribes pays allegiance to a different dragon founder. The tribes are ruled by warlords, the mightiest warriors, and dragonspeakers, mystics who use wisdom and magic to guide them. While the tribes live individually, often feuding with each other, they do contribute elite warriors as a group to form the Totem Guardians, who are the defenders of Totem Beach, which is the great beach of Argonnessen, hundreds of miles long, that is closest to Seren. The barbarian tribes refuse to treat with any outsiders who do not bear dragonmarks and speak draconic, and slay any others who trespass on their lands. For example, only one Morgrave University professor has survived contact with the Seren, and that was because he had a guide with an aberrant dragonmark. The dragonmarked Houses Lyrandar, Orien and Tharashk have managed to create small trading outposts with the Seren. But while the Seren are willing to trade with those bearing dragonmarks, not even they are allowed to enter Argonnessen. Six attempts to speak to the professor who did survive meeting with the Seren, but discovers that he failed to survive the sea voyage back to Sharn. Nevertheless, he does manage to obtain a crude map of Seren, as well as a detailed enough description of a dragonmarked outpost for Nameless to be able to get them there via greater teleport.Six and Luna, meanwhile, do what the Angels still joke amongst themselves is their most dangerous task, namely picking up a newspaper in Sharn without getting mugged. Naturally, the Korranberg Chronicle has large articles about some of the things the Angels are involved with. One is about the sign in the sky, which has caused serious concerns among the populace. The article confirms that is was visible from every part of Khorvaire for the few days it was in the sky. Some doomsayers are saying that it means the end of the world. The newspaper also has a report that the rulers of the Four Nations are supposed to be meeting to discuss this, so it must be very serious, though details of what they know about it is not forthcoming. A smaller article focuses on the rumor that dozens of warforged have disappeared in Sharn and in other areas. They are almost exclusively warforged employed by House Cannith. Some people are claiming that House Cannith is kidnapping warforged, but there have been reports of a couple of the warforged being found wandering far from where they were supposed to be. A Chronicle correspondent spoke to two and they claimed to have absolutely no recollection of how and why they ended up there, last remembering being at work and then finding themselves hours or days later somewhere else being questioned. There were no signs of magical charming or manipulation. House Cannith has officially released a statement that they are investigating these disappearances and nobody should be alarmed. Having collected all of the information that they could, the Angels proceed to get what rest they can. Except for Six, who sits through the lonely hours, trying to keep himself busy with work and worrying about what is going to happen with the warforged.* * * * * * * * * *The next morning, Nameless awakes to the discovery that he can now detect seven portals in various directions. As before, he only has a direction, and no idea of distance. Great! That makes eight, since I can’t feel the one in the Mournland from outside it!Once he has met the others, the alienist informs them about the discovery. After a quick breakfast, the Angels prepare themselves and Nameless transports them away.* * *Some four thousand miles away, a small group of people are standing and talking on a picturesque beach. Most of them are humans, half-elves and half-orcs, and many bear dragonmarks that the educated would identify as belonging to Houses Lyrandar, Orien and Tharashk. A dozen thatched huts on stilts stand near the group, not too far from the water, and four large longboats with carved dragon heads are pulled up near the huts. Only a few hundred feet away is a large wooden stockade, twenty feet tall and stretching nearly four hundred feet in width, made of sharpened stakes with the tops carved with remarkable accuracy to depict various dragon types. The tops of more huts are visible within. Thick jungle grows fairly close to the village, the closest trees extending their boughs over the stockade.The peaceful scene is suddenly disturbed by startled exclamations as five people appear in mid-air about a hundred feet offshore and plummet into the water. At least four of them do, one – a cloaked and hooded individual carrying a staff – managing to catch himself and float above the water. Seconds later, another bobs to the surface. This one, a disproportionately muscled orc, suddenly extends leathery wings from his back and flaps his way into the air, carrying a third of the strangers, a young female shifter. Or at least tries to, since she smacks him, twists out of his grasp, and splashes back into the water and disappears. A second later, a giant crocodile emerges where she hit the water and begins to swim to shore. The two fliers float forward above her. There is no sign of the other two strangers.“What the - ?” The watchers exchange worried glances and hurriedly back away from the water, a couple of them rushing to the huts and emerging with weapons.The three strangers land on the shore, the crocodile clambering out of the water and transforming back into the shifter, who shakes herself vigorously like a dog and begins to berate the hooded man for some reason. The orc simply stands there and grins at the two, before waving cheerfully at the assembled people. After a few seconds, Kamin d’Tharashk steps forward and asks wonderingly, “Who in Dolurrh are you people?”“Ah!” says the hooded man, pushing it back enough to reveal most of his face, though his forehead remains hooded. He is of indeterminate age, with a face that seems to be in its thirties, but eyes that seem decades older. His complexion is sallow and faintly greenish, but it is those eyes again which are strangest. His gaze seems to focus a few inches behind the eyes of anyone he looks at, as if he were looking into their mind – and, from the expression and tone, was fairly disappointed at what he found. The harsh, rasping, voice doesn’t help matters. “So you don’t get the Korranberg Chronicle here then?”“Err … what?”“We’re the Guardian Angels, from Sharn,” says the orc. He turns as the other two new arrivals finally emerge, both having walked out of the water as if they had no need to breathe. Which is understandable for the burly warforged but not the handsome human warrior beside him, whose shining plate-mail armor is covered with symbols of the Silver Flame. “Hey, Gareth!” the orc turns to call to him, “These guys haven’t heard of you!”“As my companion said,” continues the hooded man, “We teleported here from Sharn and…”“We’re well beyond range of teleport,” points out Juas d’Orien.“Not of greater teleport,” says the speaker, with a hint of a smirk. “We’re going to Argonnessen, so if you could give us directions…”“What? Nobody goes to Argonnessen! You’re dead if you try!”The man sighs. “Can any of you use a detect magic?”“What?”“Someone just cast a detect magic, please!”One of the artificers present shrugs, does so, and then takes a quick step back, reflexively raising a hand as literally dozens of auras fill his sight. “They’re magical. Very!”“Yes, we are. And we can handle ourselves. Now if you could just give us …”At this point, frenzied chanting and ominous drumbeats erupt from beyond the stockade wall. Dozens of wooden pikes appear above the wall, each bearing a human skeleton and being shaken vigorously. “The Seren must have seen you arrive,” explains Kamin. “They’ll be out to talk to you right now.”As he is speaking, a gate in the stockade opens and about twenty armed barbarians emerge, led by a completely cloaked figure. The leader is hidden from sight beneath a scaled veil that covers its head and trails all the way to the ground, seemingly made of many different dragon scales. Kamin hurriedly adds, “That’s Hartha, the Shroud of Scales. She talks to outsiders. I hope you folks have a dragonmark between you.” Then he and the others quickly back away towards the nearby huts, many of them climbing into them, though they remain at the doors and windows to watch.As the Seren walk up to the strangers, the warrior with the Silver Flame-marked armor removes his helmet, clearly revealing the partly-hidden dragonmark that climbs up the side of his neck. Hartha stops and begins to speak to the strangers, asking what they want. The hooded man begins to explain that they are travelers and that they have just arrived here and mean no harm, when the shifter interrupts. “Just get the directions and let’s go!”“Yeah,” says the orc, before grinning broadly at the Seren. “Don’t worry – we’re not here to kill the dragons.” There is pin-drop silence for a moment, and then every Seren focuses on the orc. “What?” The hooded man sighs and raises a hand to his face. The warforged and the human warrior, evidently not able to understand draconic, ask simultaneously, “What did he say?”“What he said,” puts in the shifter. “We’re just here to talk to the dragons.”“Korm! Luna!” grits the hooded man from between clenched teeth, but it is drowned out by the angry growls of the Seren, as they raise their weapons. “Nobody may go to Argonnessen!” Hartha says loudly. “It is forbidden!”Despite being outnumbered four to one, the strangers seem completely unconcerned. “You don’t really have a choice in the matter,” explains the shifter. “So you might as well tell us how to get there before I get upset.” Hartha speaks again, her voice a low growl. “It is forbidden!”“Yeah, yeah – forbidden schmorbidden! We’re going there now. There’s nothing you can do. We’re going to see the dragons.” That does it. “Kill them all!” shrieks Hartha, and the Seren surge forward, shouting and slashing. “Damn it!” shouts the hooded man, casting a solid fog around them to keep the bulk of the Seren away. “Everybody touch me!” The shifter, warforged and human promptly do so, but the orc delays, drawing his sword with a loud cry and hammering one of the onrushing barbarians with a blow that not only sends him flying off his feet but takes down the man behind him. The orc grins and then steps back, fending off six attackers at once and ignoring a battleaxe that gashes his forearm, grumbling loudly, “Awww! I was just having fun!”He grasps the hooded man’s arm and the latter speak an arcane word. Instantly, the strangers are gone, leaving only an empty beach and twenty confused barbarians.Kamin looks at the others. “Again – who in Dolurrh were those people?!”* * *Some eight hundred feet away, hidden by the curve of the forest, the Angels appear a few feet above the beach and drop to the sand. “Dammit!” Nameless says irritably, “I can’t take you idiots anywhere!”Korm ignores him, fingering the gash in his arm. “That was a good hit. And why’d you make us leave? It could have been a good workout.”“We are not here to fight random barbarian tribes. We need to get to Argonnessen, and from what little I know of the place, you’re likely to run into enough chances to work out there.”“Anyway,” persists Korm, “What’s the big deal? You said the damn continent is almost as big as Khorvaire. We fly thataway and we can’t miss it.”“Even so, that was unnecessary. But fine, let’s mount up and go.”. . .Traveling at the fastest speed that Nameless’ steed is capable of, the Angels race across the sky, and soon the continent of Argonnessen rises to fill the horizon before them. As they ride towards Totem Beach, they spot the legendary monoliths of Argonnessen, huge stone dragon heads rising from the water along the length of the beach. Each stretches at least a hundred feet above the water and some thrice that height, with every species of dragon represented and every age from mature adulthood up to the most ancient of great wyrms. As the Angels near the beach, which stretches hundreds of miles in length along the north-western edge of the continent, they spot smoke from a couple of campfires, each near a large wooden tower. Barbarian warriors pour out of them and run towards the approaching intruders, screaming battle-cries. “Those must be the Totem Guardians,” says Nameless. “No need to get near them.”“You’re no fun!” says Korm, but he doesn’t argue. The magical mounts swiftly change direction and angle upwards and away. There is little the Totem Guardians can do, and though one of the shamans hurls an abortive fireball, it explodes far below the Angels. In seconds they are left far behind. A mile beyond the beach is an incredibly thick forest which abuts on steepling cliffs about five thousand feet high, and the Angels reach it in just over a minute. “This, on the other hand, is!” shouts Korm, as the riders near the cliffs. He sends his stag directly at the cliffs and then, at the last moment, gives a command. The magical mount switches direction instantly and flies directly upwards. “Woohoo!” shouts the Gatekeeper. Luna promptly follows suit, grinning in glee, while the other three make a slightly less precipitous ascent.Reaching the top of the precipice, the Angels see that the land beyond quickly descends two thousand feet, the cliffs forming a giant wall, which explains why they are called the Great Barrier. Beyond the Great Barrier is a huge expanse of broken, rocky land. Though it is dotted with a few small forests and areas are covered in scrub-like vegetation, it looks significantly inhospitable.There are few obvious signs of life, the most obvious ones being a series of widely separated towers about a dozen miles away. There are small figures circling in the air above them, clearly identifiable as dragons, and many more tiny figures in the air as far as the eye can see, which are also presumably draconic.Six calls to the others at this point and says, “We are very visible while flying. I think we should descend and ride along the ground for the towers.” After a little discussion, the Angels agree and proceed to do so, riding along the ground at a much more sedate pace, discussing what they might encounter. Korm turns and looks at Nameless. “I know nobody’s that well informed about Argonnessen, but you know about the weirdest things. How friendly – or unfriendly – do you think the dragons we meet will be?” He sees Nameless open his mouth to answer and then the alienist’s eyes go wide, focusing on a spot some distance beyond the Gatekeeper.Korm spins around, realizing a second too late that he hears a giant whooshing sound. The source appears a split second later, but the Gatekeeper has no eyes for the huge body, a full fifty feet from nose to tail-tip, or the great wings, nearly one and a half times that length from tip to tip, even though they fill his entire vision. He does notice the two giant horns sweeping back above its head and the smaller horns at the chin and atop the beaked snout, and even more the little flames dancing in the nostrils and in the eye sockets around the flame-red orbs. But what his gaze is instantly drawn to are the rows of long curved fangs, a second before they snap shut around his torso.Less than a second later,  Six gets a perfect view of exactly the same thing, as a second dragon, just as red and massively huge as the first, snaps him up neatly in mid-flight.</blockquote>

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