Thor's Hammer

"A weapon? With a mind of its own? You're not messing with me, are you?"

No matter how you looked at it, that sounded like a load of crap.

"That's because you haven't seen much of the world. Weapons with minds of their own aren't common, but there are plenty of them." The old man wore an expression that said, You don't know what you're talking about, so keep quiet.

"There's a kind of blacksmith in this world who can pour his thoughts into a weapon as he forges it, giving it a consciousness of its own. These weapons vary in strength, but they all have one thing in common: they choose their own masters. Anyone a weapon doesn't acknowledge can't unleash its true power. Each weapon has its own standards for choosing a master. Most often, it comes down to the master's faction, though some have special requirements. But this heirloom weapon was made specifically for that predecessor, so he didn't need to meet any requirements to wield it freely."

"Then what are this weapon's requirements?"

"How would I know? That predecessor didn't leave a single word behind. That's why nobody's been able to use it all these years."

"So why did you call me here?"

"To test you, of course. To see if you meet the requirements. It'd be best if you do. If you don't, you'll have to choose its next master or keeper from among your future apprentices." Blackhand spoke gravely.

"..."

"Can't I refuse? I remember you have plenty of apprentices. Why not give it to one of them?" Solam would have to keep a weapon he couldn't use at all—and couldn't even use as an ordinary warhammer. What if he damaged it? Who'd be held responsible? Besides, Solam still suspected the old man was pulling his leg.

Seeing Solam's distrustful look, the old man sighed. When he'd been young, he'd thought his own master was talking nonsense, too. If he hadn't traveled through the Dwarf kingdom of Talundir, he'd never have learned just how absurd this weapon's conditions were.

"Damn it, you still don't believe me?"

"I'd be crazy to believe you. Doomhammer and my family's Bloodfire are both way more famous than this hammer. How come I've never heard of them having any requirements?"

"Damn it! I told you this is a special weapon! Besides, even if I wanted to trick you, I wouldn't go to such lengths. Never mind how much work it'd take to actually forge a warhammer like this. I wouldn't even know where to get the silk robe wrapped around it. It's damaged, sure, but feel the power left in it for yourself. Then you'll know whether I'm telling the truth."

If the old man hadn't said the black cloth wrapped around the hammer was a robe, Solam would never have realized it. But when he focused, he could sense faint fluctuations of power in the silk. They were completely different from elemental energy. It had to be the fabled power of magic. Looks like the old man really wasn't lying. Otherwise, he'd have gone to way too much trouble.

"Besides, it's been a tradition among Shamans of our line since ancient times. A master passes this treasure down to his best apprentice. It's an opportunity reserved for the apprentice he likes most. So, what do you think? Happy? You're my favorite apprentice, after all. You must be overwhelmed, hahaha!"

Watching the old man gloat to himself, Solam was at a loss for words. Still, there was no harm in trying. It wasn't like he'd lose a limb.

Solam gazed at the weapon, deep in thought. If it really did have a mind of its own, his "communication" ability might actually work. He acted on the thought at once, picking up the warhammer and pressing its head against his forehead. Then he used his "communication" ability, trying to speak with it.

Solam shut out everything else and focused on reaching the warhammer's consciousness.

Suddenly, everything around him began to fade from his awareness. At the same time, a voice echoed in his mind.

"moлhnr..."

"moлhnrmoжeт..."

He didn't know what the words meant, but he found himself repeating them silently.

"moлhnr.moжeт.ncпoль3oвaть.moлoтok!!!!"

To the old man, Solam looked as if he'd been possessed. The moment he pressed the hammer to his forehead, he started muttering to himself in a language the old man had never heard. Then, out of nowhere, he began shouting.

Just as Solam inexplicably shouted a string of words in a strange language, the runes on the warhammer blazed with light. Lightning flickered across its head, making the whole hammer look as if it were wreathed in bolts.

Blackhand was dumbstruck. Even an idiot could tell now: the warhammer had acknowledged Solam.

To be honest, Blackhand hadn't expected Solam to succeed. The warhammer had been passed down for centuries, and nobody had ever managed to earn its recognition. He'd given it to Solam partly because, as he'd said, it was tradition. But he'd also wanted to tease Solam and make him eat humble pie, getting back at him for being disrespectful all the time.

Sure, he was a bit of a clown, just as Solam had said. But even a clown wanted his apprentice to show him some respect.

"Damn, it really worked!" Solam was just as shocked as Blackhand. As a man from another world, he found it hard to believe that a weapon could have a mind of its own. But the truth before his eyes had sent his worldview plunging into the Abyss. This was way too unscientific.

"Quick, quick! Find out what this warhammer can do!" The old man was so excited he could barely contain himself. He'd had the weapon for decades, and of course he'd been dying to learn its true power.

When a weapon with a mind of its own acknowledged its master, the master could use "Observe Attributes" to examine its abilities and history. Other Magic Weapons had to be appraised by an experienced blacksmith, or identified with the Mage's level-zero cantrip, "Identify."

If the old man hadn't explained it, Solam would never have known there were so many rules to it.

But after hearing him out, Solam eagerly used "Observe Attributes." The old man had given him the weapon, so it was his now. How could he not be curious?

Warhammer: Thor's Hammer

Thor's Hammer was forged by the Dwarf master smith Krunn Fell Bronzebeard as a reward for an Orc Shaman of the Blackrock Clan who had defeated a lesser Abyssal Lord. The Shaman had saved his clan, so the hammer was made especially for him. As he forged it, Krunn instilled this intention into the weapon. Though unknown to the wider world, the master smith possessed extraordinary skill. He poured his heart and soul into making the warhammer, and died soon after its completion. He never got the chance to tell the Shaman the weapon's true name. As a result, only that Shaman could wield it. No one else had been able to use it since.

Equipment abilities: Grants its wielder great strength (Strength +2) and a sturdier body (Constitution +2).

Also protects its wielder from damage caused by arrows, darts, stones, and other ranged attacks (Protection from Ranged Damage).

Greatly increases its wielder's physical and magical defenses.

Lightning Strike, once per day (6th-level spell).

Lightning Bolt, three times per day (4th-level spell).

Every attack deals powerful lightning damage.

Special ability: Because of Krunn Fell Bronzebeard's will, the warhammer will only acknowledge someone who can correctly call out its true name. It is as stubborn as a Dwarf and will never leave its master before he dies. (Whenever it is thrown, it automatically returns to its master's hand.)

Solam was stunned by what he saw. This warhammer was almost more powerful than he was. He was only a 5th-level Shaman and a 6th-level warrior, but judging by the level of spells this weapon could release, it would take at least an 11th-level Mage.

The +2 to both Strength and Constitution was especially important for a Shaman. Solam felt he could now match Krum in a contest of strength without breaking a sweat.

When Solam told Blackhand about the warhammer's attributes, the old man was so jealous he could have gone mad. If Solam hadn't known what he was like, he'd have thought Blackhand was about to kill him and take the treasure.

Solam could understand, though. Blackhand had treasured this incredible weapon for years, but couldn't use it. Then he'd handed it to someone else, and it had worked immediately. Anyone would have been thrown off balance. If it had happened to Solam, he probably wouldn't have been able to take it, either.

"So you just got this warhammer to acknowledge you that easily?" The old man glared at Solam. He knew it wasn't Solam's fault, but he still couldn't help being annoyed with him.

"Uh..." I wouldn't call it easy. I put a lot of effort into communicating with the warhammer. But I couldn't tell the old man about my ability.

"Those weird words you just said—that was the so-called true name?"

"Mm." Solam figured it was best to keep a low profile for now. He didn't know if the weapon really shared its master's thoughts. The glow and lightning had disappeared, and it looked no different from before.

"Huh? Why did it go limp again?"

"It didn't. It just goes back to normal when it's not in use. Otherwise, it'd be way too conspicuous."

"No way. Teach me those weird words, too. I've kept this thing for years. At the very least, I want to try holding it and see what it feels like."

"Uh..."

"Don't 'uh' me. You're not going to be that selfish, are you? I'm your teacher, after all."

Seeing the old man like this, Solam knew he wouldn't give up unless he let him try. The warhammer could only acknowledge one master at a time, but so what? It wasn't like Solam would lose a limb. He might as well let the old man try and put the matter to rest.

So he told him the true name.