"Collecting exotic weapons? That can't even be called unusual, or weird. I've seen lunatics that collected all sorts of shit before, from hunters that collected fangs of every beast they hunted, generals who collected banners from battles they won… even one madman who had a massive collection of preserved and shrunken heads of people he killed. Fucker must've had like a few hundred of those by the time he kicked the bucket, I tell you." - Radamanthus Deislev, retired thousand-man commander from the former imperial army, circa 85 VA.
"So, I heard from my sister that you use a rather… unusual weapon to fight with?" mentioned Grigori to Aideen, with curiosity and interest that almost oozed out of his voice. He had approached her after the meal, as Zoya was introducing her family to Aideen, as well as her children to Artair, who had been away in Ptolodecca when they were born.
Zoya's older child, a daughter, the five year old Yelena, was born around when Aideen first met Artair back then, while her young son Ivan was barely a two year old toddler. Even so, partly due to their heritage, both kids looked a bit bigger than their age, and were quite hardy ones who roughhoused a lot.
Aideen was a little surprised that Zoya's husband Marek, the bulky orc she saw before, was the one who mostly took care of their children, while his wife was the working one in their family. She asked the therian woman about it and received an answer that it had to do with orcish traditions, where newlyweds were made to compete with one another, the winner made the head of their family.
Zoya had won handily, it seemed.
"I do, yeah," replied Aideen as she turned to face Artair's older brother. The therian man was positively huge, taller by nearly half a head to Artair, who was already a huge man, and like the rest of the family, powerfully built. His defined muscles were noticeable even under the cover of his loose tunic and tawny fur. "I've been told that you collect such weapons?"
"I do, indeed!" said Grigori cheerfully as he gave her one of those teeth-baring grins that was a sign of happiness for their kind, but looked more like a predator displaying their fangs to most others. "Would you like to have a look at my collection?"
"It would be my pleasure," replied Aideen in the affirmative. Grigori's grin seemed to grow even wider upon hearing her reply, and he led them towards the wing of the mansion which housed his family. Artair, Zoya, and Zoya's family followed along with them as well, with Zoya holding onto her daughter's hand and Marek carrying their son.
They greeted Grigori's family as they passed by. His son was in their study, being taught by his wife, while his younger daughter was having an afternoon nap by the window, curled up on the bench like a cat.
He led them to a side room that had a rather large lock on the door, and opened it with a key he extracted from his personal storage. "Got to keep it locked up good," he said. "Lots of kids in the house. Wouldn't want them to get inside there and hurt themselves,"
"An understandable sentiment," replied Aideen as she walked behind the therian man into the room. It was about the size of a small warehouse, but each wall was lined by racks and mounts, each of which held weaponry of various sizes and shapes. Some she was familiar with, while others she had never seen before.
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"You've run into people from Huan before as well, I see," commented Aideen as she noticed a Gè halberd on one rack, along with a few other bladed weapons that she recalled her tutors used before when they trained her.
"I had, yeah. Even got this made for me based on their style. Fits me better this way, I found," replied Grigori as he pulled out a weapon from his storage and showed it to Aideen.
The weapon was a saber, but the blade was noticeably thicker than usual, and easily three or four times as broad. The upper side had a slight curve to it, but the weapon lacked a stabbing point, and was only sharpened on one side, clearly intended for chops and cleavings.
It had a dark color to it, a dark gray with hints of black, yet remained shiny and reflective. The thick, broad blade was around a meter in length, larger than the norm, but about right when she considered its wielder's size. The weight she felt as she held it also confirmed to Aideen that the blade was likely made with steel that had some adamant in its alloy mixture.
The blade's grip was far thicker and was clearly not designed for a human's hand, while Aideen would bet that it would have fitted perfectly in Grigori's huge paw-like hand. The hand guard formed into a set of knuckles that had short spikes integrated into them as well, which allowed him to strike that way as well.
"Quite nice, solid construction you got here on this," noted Aideen as she held it and gave it a couple test swings before she handed the weapon back to Grigori with one hand. He seemed a little surprised that she swung it around easily like that despite the weapon's size and weight.
"This is what I use," said Aideen after she returned the blade to Grigori. She pulled out her staff from her storage, then with a practiced twist turned it into its three-sectioned form, with blades out on both ends. She handed it over for him to see with one hand to return the gesture.
Aideen noticed the knowing looks on both Zoya's and Artair's faces as they watched Grigori receive her weapon with one hand as well. That look developed into grins when he nearly dropped the weapon on his feet, surprised as he was by its weight.
"This weight…" muttered the older therian, oblivious to the amused grins his siblings sported. To the side Marek visibly wished to ask something but was shushed by his wife before he could do so. Grigori himself weighed the weapon carefully, with both hands this time. "This is not adamant steel, isn't it? Far too heavy for that. Is this thing made out of pure adamant?"
Aideen just nodded affirmatively to his question, while the therian man peered closer to the blades on her weapon. While normally such blades were thicker and sturdier since they were designed to punch through armor, the ones on Aideen's weapon were very thin, its edges almost gossamer even, so fine they were.
Grigori plucked a hair out of his prodigious mane, and very gently and carefully, laid it down on the sharp end of the blade. The hair had only just touched the blade gently, when it was bisected on the spot, and he made a sharp intake of breath at the sight.
"This… this is a masterpiece! How does a blade even get honed this finely!? One made of adamant at that!? Whoever crafted this must have been a master blacksmith! Pray tell, who made this wondrous piece of work?"
"He was a friend of Grandpa Aarin's. An old dwarf named Faust. I don't know him personally myself, just that grandpa apparently invited him over to make that weapon for me." she replied.
"Faust…" Grigori pondered the name for a long moment, before he made another sharp intake of breath with a look of utter surprise on his face. "Faust Anderlecht!? Waffenmeister Faust Anderlecht of El-Hassid? The premier weaponsmith of the continent!?"
He then looked at the weapon in his hands with a look that Aideen thought bordered on worship and idolatry, as if he beheld the most precious item he had ever seen in his entire life. Silence reigned for a moment in the room, as Zoya also looked surprised at the information, before Artair stepped forward and patted his elder brother at the shoulder.
"Big bro, you do realize that the 'Grandpa Aarin' she mentioned just now is none other than The Bone Lord himself, don't you?"