Iron Gods: Valley of the Brain Collectors


Vrix looked about, sniffing at the air for additional information. Finally, a place that felt a bit more normal, and not so…exposed. The warren walls were close in, and the dim lighting offered opportunities to hide if needed.

Overall, scrap wall was a complete dump, and Vrix felt at home. Just clans perpetually battling to be on top. So much more honest this way.

Plus, this was clearly home to rat folk. Vic would at least be able to eat normally again. Top worlds food was strange, even if it was filling. Finally, proper skewers of meat held over a fire. Finally vegetable paste.

It didn’t hurt to have attractive females around either…

The weakness

“That horrible thing in the cave must have a weakness, it must.” Vrix hissed as he slinked through the alleys of Torch. “Everything has one. Watch, collect, think” Vrix repeated the words of the burrowmaster, the ones he heard so often as a child.

“First, something for the clumsy tallfolk. Stepping on tails, you think they would know better. I could fit three of my clanmates into that tunnel.” Vrix made the purchase, and was pleasantly surprised that the merchant took the paper seriously.

Then, with a flash of inspiration, Vrix scampered off to find Kichet the welder. “Look, I need it. Just for a while, then I will give it back”

“If I give it to you, what happens when I need it? No deal”

“The light is out, there is no work for you.”

“And when it comes back on?”

“You baboon, I need it to turn the light on. If you refuse me, you’ll never have work again.”

“If I’ll never have work again, then you can buy them. I’ll need the coins.”

Vrix hissed. “Then I’m getting my discount. Eight gold, you thief.”

“Eight gold for mine, and eight for Lewin’s”

Vrix said nothing, but pushed the gold across the table. He took the goods, and contented himself with thoughts about murdering the frog thing instead.

Back to Torch


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.


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.