The Branded Mace Skin sits on the table like a relic just back from a raid, its head a slab of obsidian-metal that catches the lamplight with a pale, unearthly gleam. The surface breathes with fault-lines and deliberate gouges, as if the smith carved the wind itself into the iron. Runes coil along the blade and a subtle emerald glow threads through them, curling around the edges as if the green fire of Mordremoth had kissed the metal and left a permanent mark. The shaft is wrapped in stitched leather, dark and weathered, with a single brass cap at the butt that catches the eye when a merchant moves the head to catch a better reflection. Touch is key here: the metal feels cool and almost damp, as if it remembers rain-soaked jungles and the damp breath of hidden groves. It isn’t merely ornamental; the branding—those crooked vines and sigils—seems to pulse faintly when you tilt the weapon, as though the skin itself were listening for a whisper of a coming fight. Lore threads through that glow, a story whispered by veterans and traders in crowded markets. The Branded, those warped echoes of the jungle’s will, left their mark on more than beasts and banners; they touched metal and memory alike. This skin, some say, was forged by a smith who faced a Branded champion and walked away with a scar that became a symbol—an iron memory pressed into steel. The branding isn’t cosmetic for those who know the tales; it’s a reminder of the moment when the forest’s corruption wrapped itself around a weapon, and the weapon carried that corruption forward, not as a curse, but as a narrative—a tale of survival, of the hunter becoming a part of the story they once sought to finish. In gameplay terms, the Branded Mace Skin is a doorway to personality rather than raw power. It changes the look of a one-handed mace, letting players stamp their characters with a mark of hard-won lore and jungle-shadow style. It pairs well with shield or off-hand choices, letting a tanky build or a nimble bruiser speak with their equipment before they ever open their mouth. The skin itself remains purely cosmetic, meaning your sword-swinging numbers don’t suddenly jump because of it, but the way it moves with you—how light catches the emerald veins in a parry or a swing—adds a layer of story to every encounter. It invites role-play pauses in dungeons and long lines at the next bottleneck-filled route, a reason to narrate the moment you earned the piece, or found it tucked away in the loot of a forgotten camp. Market wanderers tell a similar tale in softer tones, a heartbeat in the chatter of stalls and the click of coin pouches. The Saddlebag Exchange becomes a natural part of the narrative when the Mace Skin crosses their shelves, a glimmering option among other Branded finds. Prices drift with demand, coin-flows, and the whimsy of traders who believe some skins are fables you can wear. One afternoon, a seller pressed a price in gold that felt fair enough to merit a careful purchase, then smiled and reminded a hopeful buyer that such a skin can surface again in the Saddlebag Exchange’s loose-tongued almanac of wares. In those moments, the Branded Mace Skin isn’t merely loot; it’s a story you can carry, a green glow you can trust to keep time with the world’s unending cycles of danger and wonder.