The legendary battlefield where Hero Captain Brand had slain the Great Karst Wyrm was a tiered arena of crushed limestone powder.
Tomas, Nessa, and Sile stood at the base of the rubble mountain. Their lanterns cast long, distorted shadows across sixty feet of broken stone. The heap rose at a thirty-five-degree angle of repose, spanning the entire one-hundred-and-twenty-foot width of the southern wall, fully sealing what had once been the yawning intake throat of the Great Siphon.
Above the rubble, the ceiling of the cave was a ragged, cavernous scar sixty feet wide, where thousands of tons of rock had been wildly torn from the mountain roof.
Tomas walked forward, the sharp limestone shingle clattering beneath his boots. He stopped ten paces from the base of the heap, his eyes scanning the debris for any sign of organic matter.
According to the official heroic chronicle published by the High Canton Council in year nineteen, the Great Karst Wyrm was ninety feet long, armored in iron-hard black glass scales, and possessed of twelve talons that could shear through solid granite. The battle was said to have raged for three days and three nights, with the dying beast thrashing in its death agony until its coils brought down the roof of the cave upon its own head.
