Norman

A rush of cold air gusted over the mountaintop relentlessly, blanketing the windswept terrain in layered snow. The unforgiving peaks of the elevation did, for those willing to brave its ascent, grant a boundless view- the expansive vista of Summerhall visible from atop the mountain. A fair place for a forktail's nest. The daunting reptile, with scales the color of flesh-tone and the luster of burnished steel, descended unceremoniously from the sky and landed near its roost. The nest was littered with the bones of foolhardy adventurers and errant travelers past- their broken swords and snapped staves coupled with their ravaged remains. Two fresh and mangled forms lay supine amidst the macabre collection - the newest victims of the creature's insurmountable prowess. The unmoving carcass of a creature akin to the serpent itself lay half-buried by snow, broken wings fluttering listlessly in the strong wind as the crimson forktail slithered past. Four had come to its perch, and yet two remained. The party of hapless explorers fought with vigor, and though they scored an onslaught of blows none could best the indomitable serpent. Two had escaped the creature's fury, but a keepsake remained: the shattered shield of one of the survivors. The brigands had not escaped empty-handed besides, for where once a pair of fledgling eggs lay nestled in the roost there was nothing. The forktail sidled around fruitlessly, arching its bristling neck at last to release a keening, ear-splitting wail skywards. For two winters the creature had watched over its den, repelling all those who had been bold enough to accost it. But it was all for naught- it had long lost the scent of the thieves that had purloined its nest's contents. The forktail's wings shook and unfurled as it roared again in contempt. It would never find the robbers, but there remained one vestige, one vessel to make its ire known: Summerhall. The gargantuan creature raked its gaze to the quaint and unassuming township, reptilian eyes glinting with a carnal and beastlike fury, before it lifted itself into the air with a final, vengeful screech.

Wanted: Serpent of Summerhall. Threat level: Medium-High. Description of beast(s): A large draconid, with matte colored scales, a burly tail, resembling a fork at it’s rear. Location: North of Summerhall, found in the peaks of the snow-cloaked mountains. Rewards: 1500 minas.

Wanted: The Lord of the Wood Threat level: Medium Description of beast(s): The primeval creature is wrought with a body made of oak and vines, the horned skull of an equine animal adorning it's head. Location: The creature has been sighted in the tucklemore forests eastwards of Geldern Castle, the holdfast of Peremont. Rewards: 1250 minas.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_LX1mCaX7Qk From the bleak fortress of Woldzimir, a trio of distinct specks could be seen encroaching rapidly from the horizon, across the icy seas on the eastern coasts of Asulon. Persevering over the choppy, frigid waters, the three ships chugged through floes of ice with ease, the cold winds carrying them towards the Vladov holding before them. The ballistae mounted upon Woldzimir’s walls turn to assess these newcomers, and bannermen line their defenses with arbalests in hand, prepared for a naval attack. The flagship leading the small flotilla would be visible as it neared Woldzimir, its sails boasting the liveries of House Ashford, and a coat of arms - recognized as that of Guy de Bar’s, to the more perceptive onlookers. Standing on the deck of the leading warship, amongst the clamor of sailors and soldiers bustling around, two Savoyards stand resolutely as they watch the peaks of the mountainous keep grow larger and less distant. Adrian and Guy de Bar, clad in thick fur cloaks and steel plate mail to assuage the freezing winds of the eastern peninsula, exchange an ambivalent glance as they near the rocky coastline. The three carracks lay anchor out at sea, Saint Amyas order-men working hastily to haul up the sails from aboard the ships. From the moored Ashford flagship, a small landing craft is lowered into the frigid waters; two figures visibly upright at the helm of the small dinghy as it is rowed ashore by a small procession. A perplexed Stanimir Vladov and a detachment of his guard greet the Savoyards as they set foot on land. “Lord de Bar, you did not send word that you were coming,” the Vladovic lord inquires, only for Guy to scoff sardonically. “It is not words that we Ashfords deal in, Lord Stanimir, but deeds.” “Lord Vladov, we have assembled our armada as auxiliary for your planned naval assault,” Adrian says to Stanimir. “Let us speak inside; as your newfound allies, our family’s argosy will support you.” With the noblemen proceeding into the keep, it would appear that the Vladovs have acquired a valuable ally in the upcoming conflict ...

+1 good meme, good idea