Wyrmscar Wastelands
Far past the forests of the Verdant Shroud lies the Wyrmscar peaks, a barren mountain range with a punishing climate. A chain of active volcanoes runs through the range, erupting without warning. Dangerous creatures and wild, untamed dragons are said to make their home here. No single nation governs the Wyrmscar region; instead, competing tribes and warlords struggle to survive under a code where only the strongest endure.
Origins
In the eastern cities, some speculate that unnatural forces carved out the barren terrain of Wyrmscar. Gaps split the mountains like cracks running through fragile rock, while long, parallel trenches score the ground as though gouged by massive claws locked in combat. From this, historians have theorized that the Wyrmscar Wastelands once served as a battlefield for Primal beasts.
Even the creatures that inhabit this land find little relief from its oppressive heat, and the absence of plant life leaves nowhere to escape the harsh conditions.
Fractured Tribes
“Bring back a head… with or without the body. The bounty demands it!” -Thorn Howlbreaker
The wasteland holds a scattering of villages, tribes, and outcasts, each competing for power and survival. Most of the bandit tribes roaming Wyrmscar began as groups of outcasts banding together with fellow outcasts in a territory where trust is scarce. With the exception of the Dragonkin tribes settled in the mountains, few of the humans and therians here are native to the region—many arrived as war refugees or as exiles cast out for crimes.
Necessity eventually drove the formation of small clans and villages, since surviving Wyrmscar alone is difficult. These scattered tribes remain territorial and generally keep their distance from one another to avoid triggering conflict.
Ashfang Clan: This band of roaming raiders is recognized throughout the wasteland, and the sound of their motorbikes unsettles the struggling survivors of Wyrmscar. Fenrir demi-humans make up most of the clan, driven from their homeland by the fall of Segovia. While a number of fenrir settled peacefully into the neighboring Republic of Concordia, others held that genuine freedom existed only in the lawless outland. Under the leadership of Alpha Thorn Howlbreaker, they united and built a livelihood as bounty hunters, mercenaries, and raiders.
Dragonkin Tribes: The Wyrmscar Peaks host several distinct dragonkin groups, each devoted to its own ancient progenitor dragon. Relations among them have generally stayed peaceful, though the growing presence of fenrir and human warlords in the region is straining that longstanding balance. Mountain strongholds guarded by territorial dragons shelter the Dragonkin, but outsiders continue attempting to plunder their treasures.
The Fireclaws, descendants of the mighty dragon Ashgron, make their home inside an active volcano. The Goldspire Clan, meanwhile, treats gold as more than a mark of status—it represents their link to ancient dragon ancestors. Beneath the Goldspire Peaks lies Jinlong, an enormously long golden dragon said to sleep undisturbed except when checking on his hoard.
Skyscourge Raiders: Led by the dragon tyrant Varenthus, this newly formed warband brings together dissident dragonkin and fenrir mercenaries. It operates alongside the Harkan Authority under an arrangement that benefits both sides. Their brutal, savage tactics have made them notorious following recent raids on Concordia's border cities.
Harkan Authority: This human warlord junta is made up of former military exiles from Concordia's nations, ruled with absolute control by General Castor Harkan. The faction has claimed its own territory within the wastelands to pursue the mineral wealth buried beneath it. General Harkan, a natural businessman, avoids direct involvement in unpleasant work, relying instead on mercenary groups like the Skyscourge Raiders to handle it. Having secured a steady flow of resources, he now aims to push mining operations further into the mountains, a move that has brought him into conflict with several Dragonkin tribes.
Tale of Varenthus the Skyscourge
Sulfur and the sharp scent of freshly forged steel filled the air inside Varenthus's command cavern, where the leaders of the Skyscourge Raiders had assembled at the dragon's summons. Varenthus—an ancient red dragon whose scales gleamed crimson—towered over a strategy map carved directly into the cavern floor, sized to match his massive frame. One heavy claw drummed against the section representing the contested Republic of Concordia border. “Lykos,” he rumbled, his voice a gravelly echo against the stone, “The report. Did the soft-skinned fools of the Republic weep enough to satisfy our current quota?”
Lykos, the ruthless lieutenant commanding the Raiders' Fenrir division, approached without hesitation, undeterred by his warlord's temper. “The border outpost is ashes, Warlord. Their local guard was a joke. Our mercenaries and your loyal kin fought shoulder-to-shoulder, just as you command. The payment from General Harkan—the usual shipment—has been secured. He is pleased with our progress.” A brief, derisive snort escaped Varenthus. “Pleased? Harkan is a worm who thinks he has bought a god. He bought me tools, Lykos. Tools and raw materials. Useless without our—my presence. Tell me you took more weapons than you needed; I dislike relying on others for my edge.”
Setting aside the routine matter of the spoils, Varenthus narrowed his blood-red eyes, his ambitions plainly at work. “We skirmish for Hark