The Butcher
A walking nightmare to giants, the dwarf known only as The Butcher stands as a testament to relentless fury and unyielding vengeance. His body is a living war-torn map of scars, his skin weathered by the countless battles he has waged against his hated foes. His thick, unkempt beard is stiff with blood, both fresh and long dried, and his eyes—cold as the stone of the mountains—burn with a singular purpose.
In his calloused, bloodied hands, he wields Giantsbane, a blackened, rune-etched axe of immense size, crafted by dwarven hands for the sole purpose of butchering giants. The blade is chipped from the crushing blows it has delivered, yet it has never failed him. His armor, dented and scarred from battle, tells the story of a warrior who has never faltered, never fled, and never known mercy.
The valley around him is littered with the remains of his enemies, the bones of fallen giants bleached by time and shattered underfoot. To The Butcher, these are not trophies, but unfinished business—there will always be more giants to kill, more blood to spill, more mountains to tear down in his endless war.
His attitude is simple, uncompromising, and absolute:
All giants must die. No exceptions.
He would tear down the mountains themselves if they stood between him and his next kill. The hunt never ends. The war never stops. As long as even one giant draws breath, The Butcher’s axe will not rest.
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