The Gray Road is a river no longer — only a dry, sunken gorge, its banks plunging fifty feet to a rocky bed pocked with seeping pools of Abyssal lava. Caves gape along these cliffs, and one, larger than the rest, exhales the reek of a predator.

This is the den of Scorizscar, a woundwyrm — one of the deadliest beasts to prowl the Marchlands, a dragon warped by the Worldwound into something monstrous and cruel. She answers to no master, holding the length of the riverbed as her own by an ancient pact, and suffers no armed soul within it who does not serve the Templars. Her raids have widowed families and shattered patrols; survivors speak her name in dread, and you may already have glimpsed her vast shape wheeling against the sky.

This is no chance encounter to stumble into — it is a reckoning to be earned. To face the woundwyrm in her own lair is to accept one of the gravest trials of the crusade, and to break her hold is to lift a shadow from an entire land.