Mexu, God of Iron, sleeps under the mountains.
“War,” he calls to us. “Bring me to war.”
We dig down to him, cut him from the rock, and haul him out in thousands of chunks.
Then, we melt him out of the ore in the furnace and release his white-hot rage into the molds.
The glowing bars and blanks go to the blacksmiths, who hammer and shape them into the swords and shields of Mexu’s bones and skin.
Hissing fury in barrels of water to cool.
Mexu comes together on the battlefield, flexes his followers’ muscles, and marches to victory.