Through the fog of war do the flickering lights of crusading fires dance along the horizon. The wind that fuels this force of unknown horrors ,of creatures and demons never before seen on our shores, beasts from the far off lands of Adamastor, brings with it the stench of burning hope and conquest.
My ravens have not returned from the southern regions, hope of their return dwindles with the hour as the fires of conquest grow larger and ever present.
The wind whispers of great champions in their midst, hardened veterans of conquest , cruel and devote. It is these demons that hell hath not found or be it a plan from the great Adamastor, the Giant who sleeps his deep slumber.
But fear not, for the Defenders of Griffins Tor are stout and hardened to the cold of the northern winds, defending our humble dominion from all invaders, be they demon or man.
We shall celebrate on the eve of battle, honouring those that fall in battle and honouring those that carry on without the departed, for we honour those that go before us and those that follow. Lands of the Gryphon, king of all beast and man.
Defenders of Griffins tor… TO ARMS!!!!
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