Coaxmetal

Next day, I talked to Sebastion, who made good on his promise. He was able to do something about the scarring, at least cosmetically. From what I could see of my body, he hadn’t been able to alter the corpse-like features of my appearance, but the scarring was less noticeable.

I was curious about the siege tower, and why the fiend Grosuk had been so interested in it. After all, such weapons must be quite common in their ‘Blood Wars,’ and much easier to construct on the spot than attempt to haul from Sigil.

I remembered what the boy Lazlo had said, and approached an area near the tower where he had said a portal allowing entry to the tower lay. I approached what should be the location of the portal, and tried my idea of the form of the key. I suppressed any desire to enter the tower. A portal appeared, which we entered.

We were inside the tower. Dominating the interior, I saw an iron… creature. Its size was staggering; if it stood full height, it would shatter the roof of the siege tower. Thundering echoes rattled the walkway as the creature hammered away on its forge, and the smell of soot and ash filled the air.

The creature had not yet noticed us. I hesitated, weighing the consequences of drawing its attention, but my curiosity, which apparently multiple lifetimes had failed to quench, swung the balance. Besides, I told myself, perhaps it would know something about me. “Greetings.”

There was the screaming of metal on metal as the giant turned to face me. I suddenly realized the golem was built into the siege tower itself; girders, pipes, and huge bracers ran through its lower torso and into the walls, and the bottom portion of its body made up the forge itself.

“What are you?”

i am iron given purpose. i forge the implements by which the multiverse will be unmade.

“You mean forging weapons? That’s your purpose?”

metal is like flesh. both carry potential in their veins. when tempered with heat and pressure, the potential surfaces. my purpose is to bring forth this potential. allow it expression.

“Who do you make these weapons for?”

i forge them for the sake of entropy. they are pain seeking expression.

“What does entropy need weapons for?”

beyond this tower, order rallies its legions. the multiverse heals its wounds. in time, its strength may equal entropy.

“The multiverse is your enemy? Why?”

the multiverse breathes. it grows. it stagnates. it forges its chains around the plains link by link. in time, even entropy may be chained.

“And you’re opposed to chaining entropy?”

when a thing seals itself against its own destruction, it merely dies a different death.

“So you’re saying immortality is just a different kind of death?”

immortality is only a word. all that exists can die. every living thing has a weapon against which it has no defense. time. disease. iron. guilt.

“How do you know what weapon to use?”

one must know the enemy to forge such a weapon. start with a fragment of the enemy. a drop of blood. a crystallized thought. one of its hopes. all of these things tell the way it can die.

“What if your enemy strikes from a distance, from shadows, and never shows himself?”

then that is the fragment of the enemy you must use. the actions of your enemy have told you much. your enemy does not wish to engage you directly. that is a weakness.

“Or… for some reason, it cannot engage me directly.”

that is an equal possibility. either possibility reveals weakness.

“How do I exploit that?”

if the enemy does not wish to confront you directly, deny its wish. take the battle to the enemy. if it is not allowed to confront you directly, find the reason. the reason will reveal a weakness.

“Hmmmm. Could you forge a weapon that would kill me?”

yes. I wasn’t really certain I wanted to know, but continued.

“Really? How?”

i would need a drop of your blood. that is all.

Such a weapon might prove useful. I wondered if my enemy was really interested in permanently killing me, after all there must have been times when I was weak, bereft of memory. I provided the blood, and told the golem to continue.

the tool of your destruction has been forged and educated. it is not enough. the magicks that keep your heart beating and mend your flesh are strong. you must sink the blade into your body only within a shell where you are cut off from the planes.

“Why?”

the reason is not known to me. yet both the weapon and the place are necessary for your destruction.

“Where would I find such a shell that separated me from the Planes?”

that is not known to me.

“Earlier you said that if the multiverse sealed itself against its own death, it would die a different death. What makes that death any worse than another?”

all things have a common ground in decay. war is necessary. death is necessary. decay is necessary.

“And how much of this is too much?”

there are no limits. limits are one of the links in the chain of order. limits must be shattered.

“Even if death is the result?”

all must fall upon entropy’s blade. the time nears when it will be necessary to breach the walls of creation. order will be put to the sword. its chains will be broken. the multiverse will be unmade.

Interesting philosophy, although I wondered if even the balmy Xaositects would willingly embrace chaos this completely. I asked about something else.

“What is this place?”

this tower is a siege engine. it exists to breach the walls between planes.

“Breach planes? How?”

the tower anchors itself upon a plane. a wound is torn in the multiverse when the bridge of the tower opens. legions may pass from one plane to the other through the tower. when the plane has served entropy’s purpose, the tower anchors itself again.

“What happened to the legions that have used the tower?”

entropy has unmade them.

“And what happened to the Planes the siege tower invaded?”

entropy has unmade them.

“If this siege tower can travel the planes, why do you remain here?”

the tower is trapped in this city. this city is a cage that it cannot breach. at one time the tower laid siege to the planes. how i was brought here is not known to me. how i may escape is not known to me.

“Why do you make weapons?”

the iron of my body once existed only as minor expressions of pain. blades. spears. axes. arrowheads. rivets in catapults. from these implements of war was i wrought. these minor expressions of pain were melted to forge this body. my potential was allowed to surface. now my purpose is to bring out the potential in other metals.

“You said that someone melted those weapons and forged your body. Who?”

entropy raised me from the planar battlefields.

“Have you heard of a night hag named Ravel?”

the night hag sought to sunder this city. her greatest works were those of unmaking. she walked the path of entropy.

“Do you know what happened to her?”

order set chains about her. she was cast within a cage.

“Do you know where this cage is?”

her prison is unknown to me.

The golem I later learned was referred to as ‘coaxmetal’ in certain ancient texts. I accepted the blade from the golem, the weapon, it claimed, which could kill me. Examining it, this strange blade was an ugly looking weapon, shaped so that it resembled the symbol of torment on my left arm. Black veins wormed their way across the surface of the metal, and the edge looked so dull that it couldn’t even cut warm butter. It felt slightly warm to the touch.

Having no more to say to the golem, I left the tower.