A small form slips out of the shadows and into the busy streets of Torch. Covered in a cloak patched together from rags and bearing a quarterstaff, Steerpike glides through the crowds. The people themselves make way for the android, giving the figure a wide berth. Some go as far as form quick signs to ward off evil or mutter quiet prayers. Everyone knows the creature was strange. It looks like a girl, but it’s face is flat and emotionless. And it’s eyes, gods beyond, its eyes . . . black and empty and cold. Folks hurry past the shabby little form quickly, but Steerpike doesn’t seem to care. Her eyes scan the crowds, the buildings, everything she passes as she makes her way to the Foundry Tavern to see Val Baine.
Her trip into the wastelands surrounding Torch had once more yielded nothing. No clue. No new information. She had searched the nearby ruins once more, this time in the company of the savage gnome child and its cat. But again she had found nothing to answer her questions. So she returns to Torch. She returns to Val. Because she has nowhere else to go.