In the dappled shadows of ancient groves, the deer serves as the silent pulse of the wild. These fleet-footed grazers are more than mere quarry; they are sensitive barometers of the land’s spiritual health, born of the primal mists that separate the Material Plane from the Feywild. Their keen senses can detect the foul taint of corruption long before a druid’s prayer, and their sudden flight is often the only warning that something unnatural stalks the undergrowth. While most are skittish, the oldest stags carry the memories of the woods within their branching antlers. In places where the veil thins, deer have been known to stand perfectly still, staring with unblinking eyes at those who trespass in sacred glades. They represent a fragile peace, yet even these gentle spirits can be warped by the touch of the Abyss, turning into hollow-eyed husks that haunt the edges of civilization. A grim omen follows the sighting of the "Pale Herald," a stag whose antlers are draped in tattered burial shrouds. It does not graze, but instead lures travelers toward forgotten barrows where the earth has grown sour. To follow such a creature is to walk the razor’s edge between divine revelation and a lonely grave beneath the roots.