Thunder Sea:

The Thunder Sea was oddly calm this afternoon. Usually storms rage constantly across the ocean that connects Xen'drik with Khorvaire, but at this moment, the clouds parted and the sun lit the gently rolling waves. Suddenly, it was if the gods had flipped a switch. In an instant the waves rise up to the heavens and deep black storm clouds darken the once bright scene. Thunder and lightning violently tear the sky apart. The surface begins to part and open as a body slowly ascends out of the maelstrom. The storm's intensity impatiently grows as the creature makes his way towards the cliffs of Xen'drik. The Stormreaver has returned.

Stormreach:

Barrow d'Kundarak shook his head and sighs. Cleaning up the vault had taken months. Convincing everyone that it was safe and they should still keep their accounts had taken even longer. He wasn't sure in the end it was worth all the trouble. Whatever that redhead found, it was now buried with her. The Siberys dragonshards had been shattered and ground into dust. He knew the dragons could read the past and the future from the shards, so he had personally seen to it that the ones in the vault would be of no use to anyone. Even still, something gnawed at the back of his conscience. He had managed to keep his job and his secret was buried alongside the dragon, but in the process had he paved the way for a far worse evil?

Menechtarun:

Deep in Windlasher Canyon Bowmaster Yaga knocked another arrow. 'Foolish adventurers,' he thought to himself, ‘coming from Stormreach out to my home trying to find riches and treasure.’ The bowstring hummed with a deep thwang and the arrow silently arched down between the rocks. A scream brought a smile to the ranger's lips. This group wouldn't be bothering them any further. Returning to his tent he was surprised to see a dwarf awaiting him. He slowly sat as the visitor began to speak. A grin spread across Yaga’s face as he finished listening and contemplated the meaning of the stranger’s words. Stepping back outside, he gave a quick bark followed by a howl. ‘Pack up the camp, we're moving -- power and riches await!’

Argonnessen:

Across the Sea of Lost Souls, a young adult blue dragon of the Chamber intently studied a Siberys dragonshard. She was trying to divulge the truth of a particularly difficult section of the Draconic Prophecy. Tens of thousands of years ago a great hero arose in the giant empire of Xen'drik and drove off the Dal Quor invasion. The prophecy foretold his return, but the nature of that return was in question. Not even the elders were sure what role the resurrected legend would hold, for good or evil. All that was certain was that his role would be a prominent one.

The blue dragon's mentor, a powerful adult red, had left many months ago for Xen'drik to dig deeper into the prophecy to find out more about the Stormreaver. She said that several important dragonshards kept in the vaults of mortals might provide the answers. While the old red was away, the blue continued to study the Chamber's supply of shards, hoping to find a small overlooked detail that would reveal everything. Try as she might, the answer could not be found in fallen crystals.

It had been several weeks since her mentor was last heard from, and scouts were scouring Xen'drik and the city of Stormreach for any information. The initial news was grim. Word came down from the elders; the blue dragon was being officially dispatched to Stormreach.

The Soaring Otyugh:

Zerchi folded up his spyglass and scribbled in his notebook. Another tribe was on the move, the sixth he'd seen this week: Trolls, hobgoblins, ogres, orcs and now gnolls. The sky far to the south was darkened with an ominous gathering of storm clouds. A spirekeeper made a note of the unusual weather and then pulled the shade on his window. He wanted to try to get a few hours of sleep before they landed at the Restless Isles.

Gianthold:

Crag glanced up at the Tor. He had been given the position of controlling who enters the ancient giant fortress that now served as the center of the army's operations. With the number of new tribes and creatures that were arriving on a daily basis, it was a busy job, and one he did with great efficiency. While he had never been inside the great tower, he often heard the sounds that came from the tall peaks during the darkest of nights: Bloodcurdling screams and terrifying roars whose power often shook the very ground. The rumor around camp was that the legend had returned and three long forgotten eggs had been hatched. Crag wasn't sure; he'd never seen any of that for himself. All he knew was that a force of great power was gathering and growing inside of Gianthold Tor. Someday soon, that power would be unleashed, and when it was, he'd be glad he was on its side.

Stormreach Harbor:

Cydonie stepped off the boat and was glad to be back on dry land. She was very comfortable in the air but the ocean gave her an intense seasickness. She made her way to the marketplace and set up inside an abandoned stall. Soon the farmer’s market would open and she'd be able to learn most of what she needed to know from the shoppers. Adventurers were also known to peruse the market, and they might have valuable information, or at the least be willing to do some dirty work. Not long after lunch, a courier from House Orien arrived. 'She said you'd be here,' he said, handed her a sealed dispatch, and then disappeared into the crowd. She instantly recognized the wax imprint and quickly opened the letter. Only one word was etched into the parchment, 'Gianthold.'