Berserker's Axe

Berserker's Axe rests on a weathered bench, the blade a storm-dark arc that seems to drink the room’s lamplight. The steel carries a smoky, almost velvety sheen, with a single, sun-warmed edge that promises a clean split through armor and resolve alike. A shallow fuller traces a meandering line along the blade, catching flecks of gold as if tiny suns were trapped beneath the surface. Runes along the spine glow faintly, a coppery amber that deepens when the room grows tense, as if the weapon itself remembers every clash it’s witnessed. The grip is wrapped in worn leather that smells of long journeys and pine, the brass rivets catching the light with each turn of the wrist, and the pommel bears a carved wolf crest that seems to breathe when the world grows loud. It’s a weapon that looks like it’s seen long winters and kept faith with a hunter’s oath. Folklore whispers that Berserker's Axe was forged by a circle of sea-worn berserkers who believed rage could be tempered by craft as surely as steel is tempered by fire. Some say the blade was quenched in a storm-wracked harbor, others that it carved its way from a battlefield where loyalties shifted like sand and the oaths of a dozen tribes collided. The axe carries that history in its weight and in the way it feels in the hand—solid, almost patient, waiting for the moment when the holder chooses to unleash a storm rather than recede from it. In practice, the axe is all about momentum. It invites a direct, aggressive approach, the kind of rhythm that prizes power, precision, and ferocity in equal measure. A wielder of Berserker's Axe tends to lean into a confident, in-your-face tempo: a heavy strike to open, followed by quick, precise blows while the foe staggers, then a decisive finisher when the window opens. The weapon’s triad—power, precision, and ferocity—makes it particularly deadly for those who like to push their luck on crits, turning timely, bold hits into tangible advantages on the battlefield. Its one-handed design favors versatility—you can circle a skirmish, shield up when you need to, or ride a momentum wave through crowded melee, carving a path of disruption as enemies try to reassemble after the first storm of blows. Markets and memory mingle in the tale of this blade. At Saddlebag Exchange, a well-worn stall under a canvas awning, traders trade more than metal; they trade stories, reputations, and the whispered probabilities of demand. A seasoned dealer will glance at Berserker's Axe and murmur that its price shifts with the tides of rumor and need, not just with the measured weight of gold. In quiet conversations, buyers note that a blade like this is valued for its storytelling as much as its edge—a weapon that carries a legend as much as a cutting point. The seller may claim a price that sounds like a bargain to the patient buyer and a fortune to the hurried, but a look in the eye of a true collector tells you the axe is already priceless to those who walk the paths where it’s most at home. So the Berserker's Axe declines to be merely gear. It is a companion through contested streets and twilight watchfires, a relic that argues with time and still finds its next keeper when the moment calls. The blade continues, not as relic of the past, but as catalyst for what comes next—another story, another clash, another swing that will be remembered long after the dust settles.