There was once a dragonslayer who was out hunting his prey on the frozen lake of Ashpool, when he made a surprising discovery. An enormous animal was frozen solid underneath the ice. Thinking that he could use the deceased creature's meat to lure the dragons into a trap, he lit a bonfire over the lake to melt its body free. A most ill-advised plan indeed... You see, the beast wasn't quite as dead as the knight first thought. Freed from its icy prison, it began to breathe once more, and lashed out at all around it with elemental fury. When the dragonslayer set out to hunt for dragons, I doubt he expected to meet his end at the point of a tusk.
Once every hundred thousand years or so, a yeti is born with a horn atop its massy head that is imbued with an extraordinary magical power. When the creature reaches maturity, it sends out a clarion call to the rest of the yetis that unites them under the horned one's rule. ...Or so the old wives' tale goes. The problem is, there might just be some truth in it. The Convictors believe they may have sighted such a horned one. The first thing they did was to name her Mirka the second, to slap a bounty on her head. The yetis are dangerous enough as it is, but if this beast lives to maturity and brings them together as a single force, they could be nigh on unstoppable.
Have you ever seen a groundskeeper? No, no, I'm not talking of our botanist friends. These are much more up a Clansman's alley-ten-fulm titans born from stone and magic. Whether they form naturally like sprites, or are magicked into existence like golems, I know not. One thing is for certain, though-they feed on the rocks that make up these islands, and add the rubble they produce to their ever-growing forms. The one the knights call Enkelados appears to have an especially prodigious appetite. If something isn't done about him soon, we shall all be living on his back before long...or in his gullet.
Where we Eorzeans would employ a chocobo, the Vanu Vanu rely on the sanuwa-a race of winged scalekin native to the Sea of Clouds. They use them as pack animals, and as mounts for their cavalry. Wild sanuwa are fierce, independent beasts, less like to take a bit in their teeth than their captors' gizzards. The sanuwa whisperers of the Vanu Vanu work wonders to tame the creatures against seemingly impossible odds. Completely impossible, in some cases. The one they call Sisiutl has defied all attempts at domestication, the gentlest whisper driving the black-hearted beast into a furious rage. Not so long ago it broke free from its wranglers, and has begun to take out its ire on the local populace.
As the sun set on the Allagan Empire, they made their last big land grab they invaded the southern continent of Meracydia, capturing scores of dragons and subjecting them to barbarous procedures that bent the creatures to their will. Or so the merchant who set the bounty believes. I don't know whether there's any truth in her stories, but if the technology to control dragons really does exist, I'd wager there's a fair few people in this world who'd gladly give every appendage to learn the secret. It seems this Campacti has turned up in her research as one such slave-dragon. No doubt the merchant's thinking it'll be easier to pick apart once it's been put out of its misery.
Yep, you heard that right we've put a bounty on a flower. 'Course, it's not just any flower. It's not just any mark, neither. Only the most fearsome bits of shrubbery get given elite mark status. The stench blossom's a monstrous man-eating plant that's long been extinct in Eorzea, but this merchant's got it on good authority they're still up there on the Allagans' floating island. ...If you count the whisperings of a pebble as good authority. Still, if those monstrosities really are up there, and their spores were ever blown down on the wind and took root in Eorzea again... Well, it doesn't bear thinking about. If there's any chance she's right, whoever destroyed that plant would be doing the world a great service.
It's a better man than me that can tell one dragonling from the next, but they grow into all different shapes an' sizes. Take wyverns-they start off like any other dragon, but as they age their wings get bigger an' bigger, till they're spendin' all their time in the air. They ain't no match fer their four-legged friends when it comes to brute strength, but what they lack in muscle, they make up fer in mobility. A mob o' the buggers can easily bring down an airship if they set their minds to it. Ye'd think that speed would drop off with age, but no such luck. The eldest o' their number, the Lord o' the Wyverns, can twist an' turn like no other, duckin' an' divin' out the way o' dragonslayer shells. Small wonder the airship captains want the bastard dead.
Might not look it at first glance, but that Sohm Al's an active volcano. I've 'eard tell there's a vast cave in the foothills that goes right into the belly o' the mountain, a place filled with fire an' brimstone like somethin' out o' the seventh 'ell. 'Course, it's a paradise fer cold-blooded scalekin. By all accounts there's a load o' the buggers down there in the deep-primitive lizards in thrall to the dragons. There's one o' their kind ye've got to be especially wary of-an ancient archaeosaur by the name o' Pylraster. Some say 'e's almost as dangerous as the dragons themselves.
Do you know the story of Saint Valeroyant? Eight centuries ago, he served as an Azure Dragoon, and won glory by driving away the great wyrm Nidhogg. This very square still bears his name, though his image has seen better days. He was an unrivaled warrior who dealt death to dragon after dragon, but there was one that always managed to slip his clutches Agathos, feared across the land as the Black Death. Naught has been seen of the creature since Valeroyant's passing, but in recent years, rumors have been spreading of a shadow of Agathos's size and shape appearing in the clouds above Dravania. Could this be our chance to bring Saint Valeroyant's legend to a close?
Most heretics are drawn from common stock, but there are more than a few nobles among them too. One such fellow was the husband of a lady Temple Knight unbeknownst to her, he abused his position to steal the order's secrets and feed them to the dragons. For years the nobleman passed sensitive information to the Horde, until the day he grew weary of his double life and supped from the scaly cup, transforming himself into a monstrous scalekin. His plan was simple to slaughter his family, feign his own death, and join with the dragons. Thanks to the timely intervention of the order, the former parts of his plan were foiled, but the beast broke their cordon and succeeded in fleeing to Dravania. It was one of the Temple Knights who put the bounty on his head the very lady who was once his wife.
Have you heard of the Illuminati? They're a secretive fraternity of goblin scholars who are particularly active in this area, engaging in experiments that run the gamut from the unusual to the downright unnatural. Slipkinx Steeljoints's studies fall towards the latter end of the spectrum. He's a notorious scoundrel who thinks nothing of slaughtering innocents to test the effectiveness of his experimental weaponry. The brute dresses himself in a suit of mechanical armor that is nigh on impenetrable, and sets about passersby with technologically enhanced gusto. Honestly, these scholars are completely incorrigible.
You'll never guess who put the bounty on Stolas's head-it was sent by a Sharlayan astrologian, all the way from his homeland across the seas. He lived here before the exodus, conducting his scholarly experiments. In one such trial, he used his magicks to bind an owl to him as a familiar. The test succeeded, but by some quirk of fate, the owl gained a prodigious intelligence, outstripping even that of its master. But when the exodus came, the owl revolted. It attacked its master, stole a tome of forbidden knowledge, and escaped into the hinterlands. It seems the tome contains secrets of such cataclysmic power that, for the safety of the realm, this owl cannot be suffered to live.