"Ah, how shall I do it? Oh, I know. I'll turn him into a flea, a harmless little flea, and then I'll put that flea in a box, and then I'll put that box inside of another box, and then I'll mail that box to myself, and when it arrives... [laughs] ...I'll SMASH IT WITH A HAMMAH! It's brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, I tell you! Genius, I say!"
That's when Berko opens his door and displays his ancestral Bear bulk in the street. His profile is regal, worthy of a coin or a carved mountainside. And he carries in his right hand the uncanniest hammer any Jew or gentile is ever likely to see. It's a replica of the one that Chief Katlian is reported to have swung during the Russian-Tlingit war of 1804, which the Russians lost. Berko fashioned it for the purpose of intimidating yids when he was thirteen and new to their labyrinth, and it has not failed its purpose yet, which is why Berko keeps it in the backseat of Landsman's car. The head is a thirty-five-pound block of meteorite iron that Hertz Shemets dug up at an old Russian site near Yakovy. The handle was carved with a Sears hunting knife from a forty-ounce baseball bat.
Konrad Curze: I know, Vulkan. Your beacon won't work. This chamber is teleport-shielded. Nothing goes in or out except through that gate behind you. Did you think you had broken me, brother? Did you believe you had tricked me into letting you escape? Hope is cruel, isn't it? Yours was false, Vulkan. Vulkan: You're right. I fashioned it as a teleporter, a means to escape even a prison such as this. I counted on you leading me here, on you needing to face me one last time. It seems I was fooled into thinking you hadn't planned for this. But you're forgetting one thing... Konrad: What's that, brother? Vulkan:It's also a hammer.
"Look upon this hammer I hold before me, for it is far more than a weapon. It is a symbol of the Imperial justice that smites the diabolic enemies of the Imperium wherever they are found, just as I. Though it has banished even a mighty Greater Daemon to the hell from which it was spawned, it remains true and pure, just as I. Furthermore, it is a symbol of my order and my office, of the authority granted to me by the divine will of the Emperor. By that authority, I am commanding you and your entire regiment to obey me without question or hesitation. Advance, or it will not be daemonic blood that stains my hammer this day."
— Inquisitor Lord Hephaestos Grudd, addressing Colonel Molian of the 223rd Gudrunrite Rifles, Warhammer 40,000
"When everything looks like a nail, you really need to get yourself a hammer."
MyNameIsKaz: We got into Bowletta's belly and destroyed her soul by crushing it with a hammer! [...] medibot: This is a game about hitting jerks with hammers. MyNameIsKaz: You can hit ghosts with a hammer... medibot: There is nothing that cannot somehow be hit with a hammer.
"And obviously being as unbiased as I always am, it's just a fact that Hammers are the best and everyone who uses them is cool. Because THEY see giant-ass creatures and think, "I wanna play whack-a-mole with that thing's fucking FACE.""