[ 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 .

A brief searing pain flashed through my entire body, and I woke up in the center of a grand hall. Everything was a blur, until I took off my glasses. Did I always wear glasses? Why would I have them? I did n't need them. 
 
 *Who am I? How'd I get here? * 
 
 I tried clearing my head. The lingering effects of the pain quickly subsided, and I stood. I was in the center of a grand hall. Marble floors lay before me, with intricate murals depicting great battles with monsters and man alike. The walls were adorned with weapons of every type; Each hung with care and easily accessible. The pillars reached hundreds of feet up, and the thousands of candles hung from chandeliers from the vaulted ceiling. 
 
 I had no memory of anything, and I knew I should be afraid. Yet I felt only a steady calm. Picking a direction, I began walking. Perhaps I will run into someone. Perhaps I'll find my own way out. 
 
 I passed a shield that had been brightly shined to a mirror finish. The mural on the wall depicted an athletic looking man using the shield to fight a monstrous woman with snakes for her hair. Looking into the mirror, I caught a reflection of myself. Skinny. Slicked black hair cut short, but without regard for any style. The marks on the bridge of my nose indicated a lifetime of wearing glasses. Pocket protector in my breast pocket. Two mechanical pencils and an eraser. A Timex watch adorning my thin wrists. 
 
 Seeing my reflection, a memory surged forward. College. I was coming out of a classroom when a beautiful girl with long brown hair asked me for help on her calculus homework. I knew her. I do n't know how I knew her, only that there was a painful familiarity. 
 
 I kept moving. The next exhibit to catch my eye was a massive war-hammer. The murals surrounding that depicted a warrior fighting off hordes of blue crystalline giants. It was a beautiful weapon, and I instinctively reached out to touch it. 
 
 Memory flashed before my eyes again. I was in the hospital now. That beautiful girl was crying. Not in pain, in joy. I was there with her, crying. We were holding a healthy infant girl. My daughter? A voice was screaming in my head now, but I could n't make it out. There was something I needed to remember, but I could n't dredge it forward. 
 
 I forced myself to keep moving. I saw an exquisite broadsword, embedded in the wall. The murals depicted a beautiful and ethereal woman standing in the center of the lake, bequeathing the sword to a regal looking man. I reached out to grab the pommel, bracing myself for the memories to come. 
 
 I saw myself, sitting at a desk, being visited by a sympathetic policeman. He was telling me that my daughter and wife had been killed. I staggered for a bit, as the memory of that loss hit me in full. 
 
 I remembered their names. Alexandra. Ava. My wife. My daughter. I remembered everything about them. Our lives together. Watching Ava grow. Making love to my wife. Sweet sunsets spent together as a family at the dinner table. Long road-trips filled with obnoxious sing-alongs. Yet I could not remember my name. 
 
 Another weapon. This time, a spear. The murals showed an army of 300 facing against an impossibly large horde. I recalled feverishly working every night, often going days without eating or sleeping. I was driven. Diving into paperwork. Digging into stacks of records. Always searching. Again, my identity eluded me, lurking at the very cusp of consciousness. 
 
 A sling and a heavy rock. The murals depicted a slender young boy facing against an absolute giant of a man. I remembered being in court. My relentless search yielded fruit, and I was giving testimony. The trial lasted for weeks, and in between court sessions, messages were delivered to me. They alternated between promises of great wealth and of painful deaths. I was driven, ignoring all entreaties and threats. And finally, I was vindicated. I nailed the ones responsible for the murder of my wife and child with tax evasion. 
 
 I had reached the end of the hall. And there stood before me a simple abacus. A robust construction of wood and steel. And I knew this was mine. No murals surrounded it. I reached out to grab it, and the last of the pieces fell into place. I was beaten. Tortured. They kept me alive for weeks, as an example to others. And through it all, I never once gave my torturers the satisfaction of crying out for mercy. 
 
 I remembered my name. I am Ted. I am an accountant.
