Polearms - Arknights: Endfield Database

A standard-issue lance made by Fort Forgefane to arm the common soldiery. Furnished with an extremely sharp tip specifically designed for fighting the Aggeloi.

I specifically focused on the needs of our rank and file during this frontline review. The life of every Oathkeeper, no matter the rank, is invaluable to the Order. The fall of any Oathkeeper, no matter their skill in arms, is a grievous loss for the defense of this civilization.
……
The host of Aggeloi is a unique form of existence. Though the host has no combat techniques or strategies to speak of, it also feels no pain or fear. The host never retreats and simply keeps fighting until the last Aggelos is slain. Extended Aggeloid crusades often dull the minds and senses of Order soldiers. The Oathkeepers do not detest the killing. No. They simply realized that the host of Aggeloi could crush entire mountains with their weight of numbers alone.
……
I humbly propose to arm our common soldiery with lances and spears. These ancient weapons will find new purpose in the Aggeloid crusades. The length of the weapons will let our soldiers attack these abominations from safer distances and the sharp, tapered tips should be sufficient to puncture their defensive shells. We must also design new arms strong enough to withstand the weight of these inorganic creatures. And the tips require sharper tips. The sharper, the better.
……
I’ve sent my blueprints to our headquarters. The lance and spear have always been the mainstay of every army in history ranging from Kazimierzian Knights to Sarkaz mercenary bands. They shall serve once more in our crusades.

One of the standard-issue operator weapons manufactured by Endfield Industries. This weapon is personally designed by senior Endfield Arsenal Engineer Opero. It can be wielded effectively by even newly minted Endfield operators, thanks to its ergonomic designs.

…therefore, I must re-emphasize the necessity of making field practicality the prime design objective of any weapon — and that means the fuller grooves on 77 are obsolete and redundant features that serve no purpose! You must understand that our enemies neither bleed nor feel pain. Stop adopting design elements from those Rhodes Island engineering drawings.
Aesthetics?! I am taking that very personally, sir. The greatest virtue of any weapon lies not in its appearance! If I wanted to make things look nice, I would be working at Mieszko Industries and not at this blasted place!
— Meeting minutes of the third design conference for Opero 79

A classical product of RAYTHEAN’s customizable manufacturing process. The weapon is based on a standard military lance, and features a diverse suite of special functions and customizable aesthetic components.

The city had many families. No one knew which of these families was the most friendly and harmonious. But everybody agreed that the Webers were the antithesis of peace. Rarely has there been a family with so many children and so many feuds. Only one Weber should be present in an area of sixty-four square klicks. If more Webers were present, the unfortunate land would soon witness violence and bloodshed.
Just last month, the eldest of the Weber children received a letter on the battlefield. After butchering the enemy who stood before him, he found his officer and applied for one-month of leave and embarked on a journey home. He crossed the woodlands and found his younger brother who was about to bury the axe into the elder Weber’s head when the latter suddenly read the contents of the letter. The younger Weber tossed the axe, packed a few things, and joined his brother on a long journey.
Their sister was already waiting on a boat moored at the riverbank. The Weber boys were wary of the massive oar she wielded. Last time they were careless and woke up three days later.
Time was running out but they still had a lengthy journey ahead.
The three siblings faced a vast desert. When they were lost amongst the dunes of ever-changing shapes, a convoy arrived on time. The driver of the lead vehicle lowered the window and revealed a face they all despised and hated beyond all measure — Uncle Weber who lived miles away but never failed to show up and gloat at the family whenever they met difficulties.
“Hop on, brats,” Uncle Weber offered a ride to the young Webers and ignored how they rolled their eyes. The other vehicles in the convoy honked and rushed them along. The frustrated cacophony undoubtedly hid a great number of Webers as well.
The convoy started off at once and left ephemeral trails upon the sands. They drove all through the night and day before finally arriving at the final stop. The lake was at peak water level, swollen by a storm that great waves that crashed at its banks. Thankfully, the richest of their aunts owned a strong, majestic ship capable of accommodating every single Weber.
Aunt Weber the Captain proudly strolled the rolling decks as the ship tore through the storm and rode the waves, giving snorts of disdain to every Weber who failed to keep their stomach juices in, and grunts of contempt to the discolored Webers who held on to the railings for dear life. The tempest accompanied them throughout the journey, and all the Webers arrived at their homeland safely.
Everyone was shocked to see the Webers charging across the main avenue for the biggest hospital in town. There were so many of them that they covered the entire length of the road.
And the Webers finally gathered at the ward and surrounded a baby girl still in her wrappings. The infant weakly opened her eyes and looked at everyone present before closing them forever, untouched and untainted by the mundane affairs of the mortal world.
“Thank you for agreeing to see her one last time,” the youngest of the Weber girls said softly as she cuddled the child whose body grew colder and colder.

One of the advanced weaponry manufactured by Endfield for their operators. This streamlined and lightweight weapon is well-balanced and would remind many people of the standard-issue lances once wielded by Vanguard class operators of Rhodes Island.

“Hey, baws. Where we going?”
“An Endfield facility 13 klicks away. We have another Aggeloid breach on another secondary settlement. We must rendezvous with the Endmin.”
“I know that already, baws. I’m just curious why we’re going around in circles…”
“Because the Aggeloi flipped our rover and busted our nav device. If we had one of those, we would have left these hills behind us an hour ago.”
“Oh, baws! Just remembered sumthin’! Instructor Dobermann taught us this trick, you know! We can stick our lance in the ground and guess-timate our position by looking at its shadow and the position of the sun!”
“Thank you very much, but that method doesn’t work here.”
“Why…? Are you saying there’s sumthin’ wrong with Dobermann’s training?”
“Geesh. Think! Use that thing in your head! This isn’t Terra, genius! We’re on a moon! A blighted moon orbiting a gas giant named Talos!”
“Oh yeah, you’re right … gas giants… So what is that huge thing in the sky? What’s it called again?”
“Talos! That’s a planet and it’s a gas giant. We’ve been through the gate for years already. You should know all this!”
“Oh. Alright. Yeah, I guess it confused the hell out of me… So, baws… Can we still … erm … find our way out of here?”
“I would talk less and conserve my strength if I were you. Those wounds don’t look good.”
“Alright, baws… Just so you know, I ain’t feelin’ too good… I probably won’t make it…”
“Shut it. We will make it. We will find a way. If we can’t get the gates to open again, Talos-II will be our new home.”
“Hah. You’re the baws… You’re the … baws…”

An experimental lance designed by Endfield Industries with a very limited production run. This weapon features modular designs to support dismantling and reassembling in complex and hostile battlefield conditions.

Wanna listen to a story? It’s real simple and it’ll explain why I insist on busting my way out of this hospital with this worn, rusty, Endfield-made lance with bits of dried blood stuck within the cracks of its shaft in my hands. You gotta trust me. Once you hear my tale, you’ll understand my perspective and STOP treating me like a lunatic with a freakish fetish for this spear. You might even decide to release me from this jacket and wheelchair.
And I swear it’ll be a simple story. Promise. Four years ago, or 1522 days to be precise, six Valley IV security officers on a mission to rescue a family trapped in the wilderness ran into an Aggeloid ambush. There were ten of them. Ten blasted buggerloids with zero sympathies for the living. The conclusion was simple. You probably guessed it right.

Only two lived to see the next sunrise.

Yeah. Just the two of them. The strongest officer no longer had a weapon. He was surrounded by the corpses of his entire team. The man stood before a crying child and stared down at a badly damaged buggerloid. Its deadly appendages were shattered, but the beast of rock could still charge and crush both the man and babe with its bulk. The officer thought hard… What could he do? He was without a weapon…
But the officer quickly found a solution, thanks to Endfield Industries. Endfield lances featured field-fitting modular components, so…
He took the spearhead from his captain, salvaged the essence module from ██████’s hands, acquired a third of the shaft from ██████‘s broken bones, pulled out the second part of the shaft from ██████‘s back, and pried out the final part of the shaft from his wife’s very skull.
The officer emerged victorious with his new weapon. He took the child to Valley IV and the lance was passed on to…
Hold on. Why do you look as though you just figured something out?
Am I the survivor? Is that why I’ve named this weapon Chimeric Justice? Was I that child? Am I doing my best to repay the act of heroism?
No. You got it all wrong.
Take a good look at this lance. A standard Endfield product.
Good. Now take a good look at me. I had nothing to do with the story. I came into this world as a sickly runt with many broken parts.
But… My retina, my heart, my blood, and every fiber of my being are crying out… Listen to the howling souls that sacrificed themselves for humanity to survive!
I refuse to sit and rot at this place.
My destiny is to become the TRUE Chimeric Justice!

A mid-tier product of Mieszko Industries. The lance is rare yet highly sought after, thanks to vintage designs that make it resemble a ballista bolt as well as its effective field performance.

I do acknowledge the value of these “virtues”. In fact, I am willing to commit my complete support for such values! But you must understand, sir, actual value must be quantifiable.
What does the audience like better? Courage or valor? Generosity or mercy? We don’t need a just arbitrator when we already have the most reliable judge of our products — the market itself! Sir, a man of your years and experience should have seen the great upheavals when the index figures fluctuated and the lines leaped up and down the charts… Oh! You and your grandfather actually visited the old Terran General Chamber of Commerce…? Wonderful! Truly wonderful childhood memories! I’ll just skip the things you already know. You should be well aware that everything we see is the result of our efforts in quantifying “virtues” into actual value that we can trade with.
Of course. Commerce is a field of knowledge exclusive to humanity. Oh, and I got something about that. Forget about the rancorous criticisms of our top economists and financial experts. I don’t care if we’re living on a sphere, on top of a pyramid, or a pillar. Makes no difference to us as long as the people living here are human. We never left ourselves. What I meant was that living at a new place didn’t suddenly give us a new mind.
Those who wanted to keep moving describe this place as untamed and filled with dangers. But I see a land untouched and filled with potential! I can’t emphasize enough the immensity of the profits we can reap by investing in this project. The Virtues-series equipment is but the smallest step in our great strategy… And I am not the only one who recognizes this opportunity. You’d be wise to keep that in mind.
Mr. Derriam, before they fill the entire place up with people and start putting price tags on all sorts of “virtues” … I promise, every cent you invest via this contract will grant you incalculable wealth in the future.
Oh, that’s right! Just sign right there… I knew I saw a keen-eyed investor who saw exactly where the killing can be made — Hold on. Got to take this call. Yes? Good. Have him wait in the VIP lounge.
— And that should wrap things up. Don’t let me keep you here, sir.

An experimental weapon manufactured to the highest standards of Northmarch Support Hub. The prototype was designed by the now-disbanded Aerospace Research Center. An array of Originium compression jet engines gives this lance its turbo performance.

“Our home, Terra, lies somewhere faraway in the vast voidness of the endless space.”
Shayen did not feel sadness when he heard that the entirety of the Aerospace Research Center was to be disbanded. Trained as a scientist, Shayen successfully steered his rationality to govern his mind and actions for the past few months. He understood the challenges faced by humanity on Talos-II. Northmarch Support Hub had taken on an immense mission. Space exploration must make way for more pressing matters and important projects.
But as Shayen packed and moved his personal belongings from the lab he worked at, he could not help but look at the two volumes of Ferdinandian Physics on the bookshelf. An indescribable sense of emptiness and defeat washed over him. He reviewed his life. Everything he worked for and loved became mere exhibits covered by canvas.
Shayen remembered the childhood fairytale about Dusk Beauty Flying to the Moon, the teenage science fiction novels of high adventure in outer space he read as a school kid, and the empirical laws laid down by the legendary physicist Ferdinand Clooney. He had always felt that his soul was never trapped to a single world.
For the past 40 years, Shayen spent most of his time working on Originium propulsors, heat and Blight resistant materials, processed and compressed Originium fuel, and other technological instruments and products too esoteric for the laypeople. He worked with teams who shared his vision of reaching out into space itself. Though he never saw Terra, he had faith that she existed somewhere in the infinite cosmos. To reach out for the stars was to start a journey of endless questions, results, and answers.
Shayen made an important decision that night. He ignored the regulation that required him to archive years of his research notes and results. Instead, he secreted a copy into a data disk along with the blueprints. He then contacted the director of innovations and science at Northmarch Support Hub. Many of the world’s brightest minds toiled for years on these next-gen technologies. Even if the descendants of Terra no longer yearned for the stars, these discoveries and knowledge will help them explore the new world of Talos-II.
He must give meaning to everything they had done.

An experimental lance developed by Hongshan Swordmancers. The shaft of the weapon was forged using a special alloy to achieve both strength and resilience.

My ancestor was a well-learned man who lived at Shangshu. During one of his journeys, he encountered a sudden downpour that forced him to seek shelter beneath the cliffs. He made a warming fire with dried grass, and was about to sleep when he saw a strange individual wearing jet-black clothing. The entity had no eyes nor mouth and its arm was joined to the mountain itself. My ancestor thus asked this strange entity “Sir, why is your arm joined with the rock?”
The strange being replied
“I once lived in Baizao. One day, I dreamed of a tiny figure dressed in yellow who stood in the middle of my palm and it asked me about the weight of human life. ‘It is heavier than the mountains.’ I answered.
“The tiny figure smiled and replied ‘And I am the Ruler of the Kingdom in the Palm.’ And with that, the tiny figure disappeared and was never seen again. I did not want to overturn its kingdom, and thus I placed my hand upon this very place and did not move it for a century. As the years passed, a great mountain gradually rose from my palm. You are looking at it right now.”
My ancestor was confused and asked “You are a kind and caring soul, but why allow yourself to be trapped here for so long? Your concerns are genuine and true, but why don’t you severe your hand and be freed from this place?”
The strange being mused “I do not know which weighs more — the Kingdom Upon the Palm, or the Palm Before My Wrist. Perhaps if I found the answer, I would be able to bear the weight of this mountain and travel with it.”
The strange being then continued “Now, leave me in peace, and you shall have yours.” With that, my ancestor fell asleep. Dawn broke, but the strange being was not seen again.

I also heard about a herb that goes by the name Zhenhuang. The grass is mildly toxic and burning it generates hallucinogenic fumes. Perhaps this ancestor of mine had breathed in a whiff too many!

A standard weapon produced by Endfield Industries. Design is provided by the Creative Prototyping Team founded by Senior Arsenal Engineer Opero. Wielders are free to make their own adjustments to the spearhead module.

He had imagined his reunion with Ludson Walker countless times —
Maybe Mr. Walker could be hired as a military consultant for some New Wrankwood war movie and receive both respect and questions from the movie crew. Maybe Mr. Walker could appear before the library of Morospolis as a representative of the Order of Steel Oath and talk about an Oathkeeper’s life with young UW crew mates. Maybe…
There were countless possibilities, all of them fitting for his fellow Oathkeeper, the “rising star” of the Order, and the glorious soldier who always fought at the very front. But the actual reunion was the complete opposite —
He saw the man who resembled Ludson on a coach to La Fantoma. “Ludson” carried an electric guitar on his back. He sighed at a poster for the Obsidian Festival as though he encountered a major problem. Perhaps he misread the coach schedules.
To ensure he only “mistook another person for an old comrade”, he approached the middle-aged man and performed a standard salute, hoping to get or see “what the hell” or “friggin’ nutcase” from the man. Unfortunately, his hopes were dashed when the man’s face transformed to be a joyous surprise and shouted out his name.
“Bucky?! Is that you?!”
The middle-aged man who resembled Ludson … happened to be Ludson himself. He counted the number of people throughout Talos-II who would call him “Bucky”. That number was no more than five.
“Geesh, how many years have passed since we last met…?” Ludson looked seriously engaged in the counting and sighed heavily when he arrived at the figures, “Ugh. Close to twenty years! Time really does fly…”
Bucky nodded and before he could think of a proper response, Ludson continued his nostalgia.
“You’re the one in our banner who always talked about getting a discharge… I even made a bet with Vincent and friends if you’d be the first to pack and scamper home.
“And I lost the entire thing! Vincent, that sorry sod, was the first to quit. He…”
“Wha…? WHY?” Bucky could not help but interrupt, “I thought Vincent always said that he’d only leave his life upon the fields of war?”
— Even the most experienced hero and veteran did not make it to the last.
Ludson became silent, his smile suddenly froze on his face. The middle-aged man who gripped the music festival poster in his hands only continued to speak after a pause.
“I never thought you’d be the first to ask me that question… Even the Castellan stayed silent when I submitted my discharge papers.
“But if you really want an explanation — I just gotta say… I found myself started getting the frights.
“I started to fear recon missions in the exclusion zones beyond the Aurora. The endless horde of buggers that grew tougher by the day began to scare me… I don’t want to face them anymore…
“I felt it… I felt the virtue of ‘courage’ slipping away from my body and I couldn’t find anyways to keep it within me. There will come a day when I grow too weak to even hold on to it.
“And since I couldn’t hold on to my guts and balls, I might as well say my goodbyes in an honorable fashion. Voluntary discharge was my way… I don’t want to wake up shaking like a spineless deserter pissing myself in a cave after running away from a rock bugger I can’t beat.”

“…But what’s this? Why are you carrying an electric guitar?”

With that question, 46-year old Ludson Walker gave his signature smile of radiance that he always wore 20 years ago.
“This? Oh, it’s a wonderful weapon that I found myself pretty good at.
“It still sputters occasionally, but it works for me and my comrades…
“My toy and my band mates are pretty accommodating. When I’m not a guitarist for a third-rate heavy metal band you’ve never heard of, I can still think about which of these guitar strings I can use to strangle a buggerloid and twist its blighted head off.”