This is the forest primeval, an ecosystem in a state of primal balance. There are the hunters and the hunted. Life feeds on life, and the cycle coils forever onward, subject only to the whims of the eldritch gods who carved this alien landscape as a sacred temple wholly separate from the contrivances of modern man. ANTLERS reign supreme in this pantheon, doling out harsh justice to unwary interlopers in the form of chthonic growls that reek of aeons of rot, electric bolts of blackened riffs, and austere, stately drumming. This is a testament to the wild, dangerous, foreboding, and captivating.
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