The Living Weapon - Glaugust 2025 (He Wields a Gun)
This was written for Glaugust 2025, from the prompt ‘He Wields A Gun’. It is ostensibly set in my post-apocalypse setting which doesn’t quite exist yet.
He wields a gun.
Pried from the grip of a skeleton buried under the ancient refuse which vomits from the garage-mouth of an ancient auto shop on the ruined shores of Lake Ditroyt. Dirty red brass with a faint wave pattern and pitted ebony grip, ice cold to the touch–the action as smooth as it was a millennium ago. He swallows it, like the other orphaned death dealers. It finds a home in His body, which noisily rearranges under the dusty armored trench coat to accommodate the new friend. A gunmetal symbiote ready to push through artificial muscle fibers and blue-black viscera, violently blooming from nanoflesh when and where He needs it most.
The other guns know something is wrong with this one, but they can’t tell Him. The other guns only spit gut-forged lead, not truth. The machete and steelbone spear and clawhammer are too simple to realize what is happening, too enamored of hacking and stabbing and cracking to care until it’s too late anyway.
Within a week, He no longer uses close range weapons. The blood-brass gun calls to Him more and more; when the lead it spits tears the limbs off a bounty, the electric thrill of plunging into an icy river shocks His body. Within a month it’s the only weapon He uses. It aches to be used on more than the bounties He hunts. He obliges, code forgotten. The other guns seethe, forgotten in the hollows left by absent organs.
The Gun wields him.
Thorson Leatherman, Parasitized Living Weapon
HD 4 AC as Plate due to subdermal armor Damage 1d6+2. +2 attack when using Righteous Winter (see below).
Never runs out of ammunition for any of the weaponry in his integrated armory and may never be disarmed while alive. May swap weapons instantly, though Righteous Winter will not allow him to use any other weapons while it is integrated with him. Does not need free hands to use his weapons, as they can come from nearly any part of his body.
Thorson is a Living Weapon who works as a bounty hunter, though he is increasingly unhinged and likely to kill anyone peripheral to his target. He’s still one of the best in Russt and gets regular work, lately from clients who don’t care about collateral damage. He has not yet reached the point of murdering random people. Not yet.
There is a 4-in-6 chance Thorson has a rat-dog or other creature with him to act as insurance against shooting himself.
Righteous Winter
Once a sword, now a gun, maybe something else in the future. Forged by a legendary smith, cursed with bloodlust. It demands to be drawn.
Once touched with the intent to do violence, it may not be willingly discarded. No other weapon may be wielded again unless Righteous Winter is somehow disposed of. A wielder dispossessed of the gun is compelled to get it back for 2d6 days, whereupon the obsession fades.
Once drawn, it must cause bloody injury before it may be holstered again unless the wielder passes a Repulse Save (your magic resisting save of choice here). If the wielder has not caused bloody injury within 1 turn or passed the Repulse Save, the gun will turn on the wielder and fire.
Deals 1d6+2 damage. +2 to attack. No penalty for firing in melee range. Rolling a natural 20 tears a limb from the target.
D6 Encounters
1 Thorson stands on a bridge over a metal-flecked river, white knuckle grip holding Righteous Winter over the water. After 10 minutes of trying to drop the gun, he gives up and absorbs it back into his arm. If confronted, he stops immediately and is cagey about his intent.
2 An autominer with puffy, red eyes counts out a bounty payment for killing a kidnapper. The miner’s wife stares murder at Thorson as the bounty hunter cuts two body bags loose from his horse, one much smaller than the other.
3 A chemical campfire sputters and spits green sparks in the hollow left by a two-storey tire leaning on a ruin. Thorson mutters to Righteous Winter, which juts out of his shoulder like a parody of a pirate’s parrot.
4 Gunshots echo over one of the many shallow, red lakes in Russt. Thorson is in a shootout with 3 Carcinast fishers who violated the fishing accords. The crab people return fire from the water as they take cover behind floating fish baskets. One Carcinast sputters froth and clicks plaintively, dominant claw floating in the water several feet away. The overturned rowboat Thorson takes cover behind is studded with small harpoons from the Carcinast fishing guns.
5 Thorson is exchanging coin with a livestock caravan for a sickly donkey. He waves away the nervous merchant’s attempts to redirect his attention to healthier stock.
6 A panicky, confused group of 7 scavengers is being harangued by a furious Thorson. He gesticulates wildly with his oversized arms, face bright red; Righteous Winter protrudes out of his throbbing right temple like a gleaming, belligerent aneurysm. “FUCKING IDIOTS! WHEN YOU SURPRISE A STRANGER ON THE ROAD, SOMEBODY GETS SHOT!” Without intervention, Thorson will execute one of the scavengers. Killing douses his rage immediately; he is almost apologetic.