Homestuck Weapon Novels & Stories

It was clear to see that Theo still was not happy to have been left in the dark, but she must have said something to pacify him because instead of anger in his gaze, it was now filled with heat. “Here you go,” she said, tossing me something from the trunk. My hand easily caught my favorite weapon. It was a bladed staff. The staff part was about two feet long with thirteen-inch razor-sharp blades on either end. Its lightweight material allowed for quicker and more accurate movements. My father had always been a proponent of us familiarizing ourselves with a weapon of choice because it was not always possible to rely on our wolves in a fight. This was the weapon that I mastered. Theo mastered

Troy explained there was recently some trouble and Professor Pops was reassembling the magical creatures, but he didn't give more detail. We weren't there for the purpose of studying the creatures anyway. Troy walked toward the back and unlocked the door to what appeared to be a weapon's room. "Pick your poison," he said, flipping on the light. It buzzed and flickered the way old lights did. I picked up the weapon closest to me. It was a brushed onyx bow. A quiver of arrows sat next to it, though the feathers on the ends weren't feathers at all but made of thin strips of metal. I gently brushed the tips of my fingers along the stiff fibers. While still in Sharra, the bow had been a weapon I

"What about weapons? I need something that can shoot back while I'm sleeping." I scrolled down the menu, my heart jumping as my eyes landed on a weapon blueprint near the bottom of the Tier 1 list. It was a sleek metallic cylinder with a dual-barrel attachment. "Automated turrets " I whispered, my breath catching. "LUS can I afford this?"

"He sent a gold weapon to a fetus, Noah. You two share the exact same aesthetic." "My weapons are functional," Noah stated. His thumb traced the curve of my bare hip. The friction sent a spike of heat straight down my spine. "I am buying the kid a titanium Glock." I stared at the solid gold dagger in my hand and looked at the man promising a firearm to a fetus. A sharp headache built behind my eyes. I possessed the only functioning moral compass in this entire bloodline. Adrian sent assassination tools instead of rattles. Noah treated our future nursery like a syndicate armory two days ago.

It felt impossibly light, no thicker than a shoelace, yet she knew its true nature. Commander Thorne had first presented the armory's options when she took a tour of the pack house earlier on—swords, knives, and even a compact kinetic pistol, even though she wondered why creatures such as wolves would have such need for such weapon since they are not easily felled by such weapons. She had dismissed the cord as a trinket,a fancy piece of rope for a training dummy. But Thorne? He wasn't fazed. He’d simply dropped the end of the filament onto a steel table, then pressed a small stud on his gauntlet.

Now he had crafted a blade for himself which was literally a part of his own arm. With his left hand, he reached around for one of the gun-like weapons he had secured just above the back of his waist. Alex grabbed the handle of the gun, which was sticking straight out for him to grip, and in a swift motion, he cranked the handle back and locked it into place before pulling it from its holster. Just like the Domineers’ weapons, which they used to fire several projectiles at once, Alex’s appeared to contain five small, separate slingshot mechanisms encircling the area where a standard gun’s barrel would be located. With his sword firmly strapped to his arm, Alex let go of its handle and reache

Maybe both? * * * It took them hours. Or so it seemed. Working in silence. Yolanda used a list she’d received. She’d pull the items and adding them to carts. Bringing them forwards. Most of the weapons he could guess at, but others perplexed him. A pair of sheers made of silver. The sheers were for cutting the heads off a creature. But he didn’t know the creature because he didn’t have a hope in hell of pronouncing its name. Another item appeared to be a dart gun. It looked like a standard-issue piece of equipment. “What’s with all these dart guns? They look like they’re changed somehow.”

Sometimes I think, when I can have a sexy body like her. “Wait a minute.” I hide a pair of swords behind my back. Two pistols behind the pocket of the white blazer I wore. And the folding knife I tucked into my shoe. Perfect. “Did you bring your crossbow, Claire?” “Of course, yes.” Claire also has special weapons given by the master. It has a useful crossbow in long-range attacks. William himself has a unique pistol. The bullets in them will never run out. So did Claire’s crossbow.

Amy tried not to let the maniacal Joker-like laughter distract her. The woman soldier ignored the pain radiating through her punctured wrist. She had another trick up her sleeve, hoping her crazed laughter would distract Amy. The soldier almost captured Amy when she pulled out her Ruger SR9 semi-automatic pistol, aiming it at Amy. But the Death Row Infantry-woman forgot to reload her magazine, which meant her gun was empty. The soldier pulled the trigger, only to hear her gun respond with a click.

She gave me a small nod. I handed her a weapon I’d chosen specifically for her—a slender spear, carved from oak and tipped with polished wolfstone. It suited her small hands and her quiet strength. But the way she held it—awkward, unsure—I could tell she had never wielded a weapon like this before. “It’s okay,” I said softly. “Let’s try together.”