Withering Bough

A double-headed greataxe of ancient and primal make, Withering Bough is as much grown as it is forged. Its haft is living wood; dark, knotted, and wrapped in creeping vines that twist along its length as though the forest itself refuses to let go. Runes are carved into the grain, faintly golden, half-swallowed by bark and leaf. The twin axe heads are broad and heavy, their steel veined with deep emerald green, patterned like the canopy of an old forest seen from below. The metal meets the wood through an interlocking knot of forged iron and root, as though blade and branch agreed upon union long ago. An axe of ancient make, its origins older than most who carried it knew. Passed through the hands of those who loved it and those who feared what it meant, Withering Bough became something beyond a weapon. It was a line of inheritance, a burden of legacy, and in its finest hours, an instrument of justice long overdue. The forest it was grown and crafted in remembers its deeds.