Iron Gods: Valley of the Brain Collectors

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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.


Val a looks up from the bar, absentmindedly running an oily rag over the pristine tabletop, a worried look in her eye. Steerpike notes that other than Khonnir, the adolescent is the only human she has met that doesn’t shy at the strange woman’s presence. Steerpike stares at Val without expression, but Val notices the half a millimeter lift of her unusual “sister’s” eyebrow.

“Khonnir never came back from his second foray,” the blonde girl states while massaging her temples. “Parda’s also gone. She headed out with those idiots she’s been hanging with lately.”

Steerpike tilts her head, glaring at Val’s hands.

“Another headache,” the girl complains. Steerpike notes she has heard other humans complain of headaches lately. She briefly wonders what it would be like to have a headache, but decides it would probably be unpleasant and immediately forgets all about it.

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Eak doddwaco

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