Hatchet of the Buried

Weapon (handaxe), legendary (requires attunement)

An old woodcutting axe covered in roots, soil, and dried blood. You gain a +3 bonus to attack rolls and damage rolls made with this magic weapon, which deals an extra 1d6 necrotic damage on a hit. 

Butcher’s Bramble. When you hit a creature with this weapon, you can attempt to curse the target causing a bramble of roots to dig into them. The creature must make a DC 17 Constitution saving throw or have the roots ding into their flesh for 1 minute. A Bloodied creature makes its saving throw with disadvantage. For the duration, the creature takes 2d6 Slashing damage for every 5 feet it travels. The creature repeats the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on a success. Once a creature fails its saving throw against this property, it cannot be used again until you finish a long rest.

Fell. When you hit a Bloodied creature with a Critical Hit using this weapon, it dies. A legendary creature can expend a use of one of its Legendary Resistances to negate this effect, instead taking an extra 5d6 Necrotic damage in addition to the damage dealt by the critical hit. When a creature dies from a critical hit with this weapon, a Hawthorn tree begins to grow from its remains.

Curse: Relentless. This weapon is cursed, and attuning to this weapon extends the curse to you. As long as you remain cursed, you are unwilling to part with the weapon, keeping it on your person at all times. 

When you damage a creature with this weapon, you cannot benefit from a long rest until that creature is reduced to 0 hit points.

They say ol’ Jack Hawthorn took up his axe once more, his limbs creaking from the roots embedded in his dead flesh. He hunted all of his and his family’s murderers that remained in his woods, cutting them down like the many trees he felled in life. His spirit still yearns to hunt down the remaining members, and any who trespass on the land on which his rotten home still stands. 

When you hear the creak of hawthorn wood, among the bones where a house once stood,

Hide away, don’t make a sound, or ol’ Lumber Jack will chop you down.