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The Thunderer stood before him, flanked by the Three and the War Maiden.
"Why do you need this person again?" he asked, wondering if he'd heard correctly the first time around.
"The Destroyer is run mad and only a weapon made by one born of the Master Smiths can bring it down," the Thunderer said.
"Don't you have weapons that meet the requirements you described?" he asked.
"Yes, but none of them have the strength we need," the Dark Knight of the Three said.
"And that strength is?"
"Why do you wish to know this, Man of Iron?" the Thunderer asked.
"I can't create things from thin air," the Man of Iron replied, "I can't make bricks without clay. I need data in order to find the person you're looking for."
"We do not know," the Pale Knight of the Three said, "But legends state that the Master Smith will know what we need."
"And what does this Smith look like?"
"There has been no sign of the Master Smiths in any of the Nine Realms for many a Millennium," the Red Knight of the Three said, "The Smith could be anyone."
"You know where he is, Man of Iron," the Maiden said, "I see it in the way you stand."
The Man of Iron looked at the five Asgardians before him and sighed, "I know of the weapon you seek," he admitted.
"Then you must tell us where to retrieve it!" the Thunderer boomed.
"I know of the weapon which you seek, but it must be born, not made!" he snapped, "The very cost of the weapon will be the life of the Smith who creates it!"
"The Destroyer kills more men and women as we speak!" the Maiden cried, "The loss of the Master Smith is a sorrow, yet the lives of innocents will be lost otherwise!"
"You are dedicated to this course then?" he asked, resigned.
"Yes," the Thunderer said, "Please lead us to the Master Smith if you can, Man of Iron."
The man of Iron closed his eyes and said, "The moon will be at it's fullest tonight. Return when she is at her zenith, and the blade will await you here." He left the five Asgardians on the roof of his Tower and retreated into his rooms.
The Asgardians appeared on the roof of the Tower at the assigned time, and saw the Man of Iron step out onto the roof, clad in a white robe.
"The blade is nearly ready," he said. "It can be extracted when the moon is at it's zenith and tempered in the blood of its creator."
"Such action would curse the blade," the Thunderer said.
"I told you, the price of the blade will be high," the Man of Iron replied.
All too soon, the moon was directly over head, and the War Maiden gasped. "Man of Iron, you bleed!"
A light glowed in his naval, under the Arc Reactor that took the place of his heart. Blood seeped from unseen wounds on his body, staining his white robes red. The Man of Iron plunged his hand into is belly and slow drew forth the golden hilt. He used two hands to draw a magnificent blade from his body.
Once the blade was fully removed, he collapsed.
"Man of Iron!" the Thunderer cried, an leaps forth, catching the man in his arms before he landed on the floor.
"Did I not say the cost of the blade will be high?" he gasped, "Take the blade and do with it as you will." Thus spoken, he died.