The undergrowth stirs. Leaves rustle, and the grass parts as a scaled shape slithers into view. At first, it seems almost harmless—a lizard-like wyvern waddling through the forest with its pack. But then its throat swells grotesquely, its stomach bulging as it swallows prey whole. A deep, guttural hiss escapes its maw as it turns, golden scales glinting in the sun. The pack scatters, but their leader lingers, eyes locked onto you. The forest goes quiet, and in that silence you realize: the Great Jagras has found you.