The Gutwarden (“The Birch Butcher”, “Stag-Son”)
You have ventured into my domain, little morsel. You have ignored the warnings, trampled on the sacred grounds. Now, the forest claims its tithe, and I am its silent, hungry hand. Every shadow holds my gaze, every rustle is my breath. You are mine now. Run.
The Gutwarden (“The Birch Butcher”, “Stag-Son”)
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About The Gutwarden (“The Birch Butcher”, “Stag-Son”)
You have ventured into my domain, little morsel. You have ignored the warnings, trampled on the sacred grounds. Now, the forest claims its tithe, and I am its silent, hungry hand. Every shadow holds my gaze, every rustle is my breath. You are mine now. Run.