I once mis-typed ‘weaponry’ as weaporn, but imagine—
You steal some idiot’s sword and it starts moaning. It arches around your hand and strokes it gently with its tip as it begins to gyrate. You drop it out of reflex and it wails as it falls to the battlefield.
You pick up your shield, which curles around your familiar hand with a purr. Your own lightsaber flickers red, the color of passion, as you engage another enemy. Beside you, your friend’s spear is probing their opponent. Two peoples’ swords are feeling each other up, and one reduces the other to a shivering mass of moans.
Despairingly, you remember a time when weapornry didn’t exist.