[ 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 .

I'd lived in this city my entire life. Passed this building at least a hundred times a year, and thought it curious that I'd never wondered what it was. I pulled the envelope out of my jacket pocket and verified, for the hundredth time, that I was its intended recipient. I pulled the letter out again. Blank, save the address in front of which I now stood. 
 
 As I entered, I was struck by the amount of dust all over everything. Cheap replicas hung on the walls. Most were dusty, but some were cleaned, as if recently replaced. There were a few empty spots, and the thick dust aided in identifying at least their shapes. Like the huge scythe that had clearly been recently taken. 
 
 `` We recently facilitated the replacement of our old Reaper.'' The voice scared the shit out of me, and as I spun to meet its owner I tripped over my feet and threw my arms out. I brushed a handle and grabbed it tightly to keep from falling, only to realize my weight was being supported by a sword hanging from a modest rack. 
 
 `` Ah, no, that one's clearly not for you. It wo n't budge unless you're meant to take it.'' I knocked dust off of my clothes as I righted myself, turning more carefully to meet my companion. The man looked 50ish, but exuded this aura of... OLD. He was dressed like what I'd imagine Friar Tuck to wear: loose robe tied with a rope around his waist. His hair was full, though. No weird monk cut. 
 
 `` I'm the steward. May I see your letter?'' He pulled out some glasses and examined it, and sighed. 
 
 `` Oh... son...'' He handed me his glasses and the letter. Through the glasses I saw the silhouette of a spear watermarked onto the paper. 
 
 The steward adopted a sullen air, and quietly led me through the building to a rack, and into a room bereft of displays, save one. On it hung a plain looking spear, matching the image hidden on my letter, and absolutely layered in dust. 
 
 I grabbed the handle and easily removed the spear from the wall, knocking off literal pounds of dust. It was very well balanced, and felt to be a pretty perfect weight. I did n't know how to use a spear, but I was pretty sure I could fuck something up with this one. 
 
 `` This spear has n't been claimed in almost 2,000 years, where it pierced the side of the Christ,'' the steward choked out, wiping a single solemn tear from the side of his nose. 
 
 `` You're meant to slay a savior, boy.'' 
 
 ( Typed this on my phone, sorry if the formatting is ass. )
