(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

You'd think that there'd be some measure of irony in creating a siege tower
and a golem to wage war in the name of entropy. Not so. It was later
explained to me that even the act of creation is a melange of smaller
destructions: you cut down hundreds of trees to build the tower, shatter ore
and burn coal to smelt it and fuel the forges to make steel. The workers
themselves feed aches into their bones and kinks into their muscles with
each day of toil. Everything serves the cause of entropy.
Coaxmetal was just speeding up the process.
So it wasn't all that strange to go to it for advice on how to protect myself
from the shadows. Something as well-versed in destruction as Coaxmetal
was should know about how to protect against it.
Ever since that night any cool breeze felt like that same unnatural chill, and I
glanced nervously at every shadow. There had been something familiar and
primal about those shadows that attacked us. I felt like a rabbit being
stalked by wolves. Annah recovered, and grumbled in her own way about
me being too paranoid, but I noticed she hadn't gone out to nick purses
alone since then.
It was Coaxmetal's only reply to me asking for a way to protect myself. Yet
there was ambiguity in those words, even if they were blunt and hammered
out with a heavy throat of rusted iron. "Are you saying that immortality is
just a different kind of death?"
I blinked, "You're saying you could forge a weapon to kill an immortal?"
"How do you know what weapon to use?"
Back to the shadows again. I scoffed, "And how do I do that? It's not going to
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