[ WP ] You discover a grand hall filled with legendary weapons like Mjonir and Excalibur . Each generation or so , warriors come to the hall to inherit a weapon that they are worthy enough to wield . Across the hall you see a forgotten weapon that 's been collecting dust . You hear it call to you .

What I had in front of me was a building made of rough stone, and what seemed to be a capsized viking ship used as a roof, with rotting wood planks, and hay, and tar to shield its contents from the rain. A cobblestone path led to the heavy wooden door. On the door, a mightily decorated doorknock in the shape of a dragon's head stared furiously at me. 
 
 I approached the door, my boots thumping softly on the stone. I raised a hand to the doorknock, and hit the wood twice. The heavy door opened thunderously, and a decrepitly old woman was standing behind it. A dark green robe, small eyes and her skin like oak bark, she was holding a stick taller than her, with a face roughly carved into its wood, and trinkets and tiny colored vials attached to it. 
 
 `` Oh, you're here, Maximilian. Please, do come in, shrug the cold off your shoulders''. She said, and welcomed me inside. 
 
 A great hall, full of displays carved in marble and granite or cast in various metals adorned the area. On each of these, a weapon. 
 
 `` I know you come from an era of information'', she said `` and you may recognise most of these weapons''. 
 
 And she was right. I walked in front of one of the displays where I could recognise the mighty Mjölnir, together with Megingjörð and the gloves Járngreipr. Their shape shifting, now showing a crude stone, a loincloth and fur gloves, now a golden warhammer and a finely decorated belt and platinum gauntlets, now a normal tool hammer with a toolbelt and work gloves. 
 
 `` The shape of these artifacts shifts to adapt to the different ages they had seen. This hall lies outside time and space. A hero's weapon is n't a tool. It's a concept. An idea. What was Excalibur once, in your time may be a fountain pen used to sign peace between nations, and who knows what in the future.'' 
 
 I strolled around the displays. Different weapons I recognised, Excalibur, Gaebolg, Cupid's Bow. Each one glimmering and shifting in shape, color, form, and size. 
 
 *At last*. 
 
 I heard a voice. A deep, sensual murmur. 
 
 `` I can hear you. I can... *feel* you.'' I whispered. Then, following what one may call instinct, I directed my steps to a far corner of the hall. 
 
 I was standing in front of a dusty wooden log, with no light shining on it. And more curiously, the shape of the weapon I had in front of me was not shifting. It was just... that. A thick, short blade, with two cuts on the flat side. It had no grip, it was just the soul of a japanese *tantou*. 
 
 I knew very well what it was. I felt my hand moving on its own, to grab the crude blade. As I touched it, it morphed in my hand, becoming the most beautiful santoku knife i had ever seen. Its steel was shining and glimmering, its damascus waving on the surface, moving. Then, the blade spoke. 
 
 *I am Houchou Masamune. Are you worthy of wielding me? * 
 
 I did n't let the blade finish. I pressed the blade against the palm of my right hand, and slashed it. My blood dripping on the knife. I winced from the pain. 
 
 *I am Houchou Masamune. And we're going to be the best chef of the world. *
