In the twisting shadows of the Endless Woods, whispers speak of a lumberjack unlike any other. They call him Silas Axehand. Unlike the jovial Bunyan of legend, Silas is a creature of gnarled beard and eyes like smoldering embers. Where Bunyan tamed the land, Silas carves it raw.

Silas isn't made of flesh and bone, but of the twisted grain of the woods themselves. Every tree he cuts fuels his existence, feeding an insatiable hunger. His axe, forged from the heart of a corrupted redwood, leeches the life from the forest with each swing. Where his axe falls, the land withers and dies.

Legends speak of once-vibrant valleys reduced to barren scarlands by Silas' rampage. Whispers claim he builds monstrous machines from the twisted wood, lumbering beasts that tear down trees with inhuman strength. Some say he carves monstrous puppets from the wood, breathing life into them with stolen souls. These lumbering automata roam the woods, mindless and savage, their only purpose to fell more trees to appease their master.

Unlike Bunyan's booming laugh, Silas' presence is heralded by an unnatural silence. The birds fall silent, the wind stills. The only sound is the distant, rhythmic crunch of his axe echoing through the deadened woods. Those who encounter him speak of a chilling charisma, a voice that promises power in exchange for a terrible price. Some lumberjacks, desperate or greedy, have taken him up on his offer. They are never seen again, but the echoing chop of their axes joins the chorus that haunts the Endless Woods.

Silas Axehand is a symbol of the unchecked hunger of civilization, a cautionary tale whispered by the dying trees. He is a reminder that progress, unchecked, can devour the very things that sustain it.