Flight of the Eagle

The beautiful eagle glided on, the wind was perfect, the day was still in early morning and the beast had no need to flap its magnificent outcast wings. For hours the creature had flown east, occasionally dropping low enough for farmers and by passers to catch the winged miracle in their sight.
The bird had reached the river Torde (which was named after King Torde who was slain in battle at the river itself). Beautiful and untouched by the likes of man for many centuries, the river was spectacular. Down flew the eagle, so it was low enough to dip its wing into the river, pleasantly refreshing and soothing the bird’s tiring limbs.
Two hours later smoke entered the eagle’s vision. The smell of blood lingered in the air, and the bird knew what lay ahead. A massive camp, at least a mile wide had been set up in the fields of Ashenmult, and it was the current headquarters of the barbarian army.   
The eagle was sad, accepting that soon the barbaric warriors would reach the currently peaceful and tranquil river, no doubt destroying its beauty. After the river it would not be long until the army reached Guldmio, where they would no doubt march on Keyuta.
Nonetheless the eagle did not stop here but continued to fly on, for it had a different destination ahead. The bird at this time had reached the harsh, unmerciful, desert wasteland that was Sond. Very few creatures came here, for the sun and heat were cruel foes to combat. The eagle knew that it had to fly quickly through this desolate land, for there was no water for the hundreds of miles beyond.
It was late within the night when the eagle reached the vast ocean. Preceding a short break, the bird launched off once more, into the ever ending blue. The eagle saw a massive tail burst out of the water, throwing up tons of the liquid. As the tail submerged the eagle ascended, for though beautiful the sea may be, there resided creatures in the depths than are not known of, possible of uncharitable power.
In due course the eagle spotted its destination; a small whirlpool that circulated within the vast ocean. No one could possible find the swirling pool, unless they had already been there. Withdrawing its wings directly above the whirlpool the bird dived at an inspiring rate, directly through the whirlpool.
There are very few magical portals in the world, as it wasn’t known how to create such transportation devices, and even most druids found it quite perplexing how the portals came to be. Supposedly the ancients created them, millenniums ago, but no one knew for sure.
Teleportation is not an instantaneous process; the transfer of the physical body to another location takes about two seconds. In spite of this, time with in portals is not like typical time. Time can change completely abruptly and without warning. To date the Druids have never faced a time crises, with the longest teleportation only taking about five seconds (which is a hell of a long time). Within the teleporting process, your mind will project images from your past around you, no one knows why, but none the less it happens (this is obviously why a spy has never used portal to date, as the mind is often unwillingly revealed).
The eagle reappeared in a beautiful grove, where a massive stone temple resided. It was at least half a mile wide and the towering temple appeared to have no height restraints, as it towered up and above viewable level; hidden amongst the clouds. Vines scaled the walls, and birds nested on stone out juts. It was shaped like a pyramid, but changed into a cylinder within the centre.
The bird effortless shape shifted into a man. The feathers merged with human skin, until they disappeared, claws retracted and were replaced with fingers, and the eagle’s beak folded back and a human head pushed its way out.
During the shape shift, blinding light erupted from his body, though there was no one around to witness it. The man marched into and through the entrance of the temple, his body becoming lost in the shadows.