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— CARRIED —

• sword (1d8)
• hand axe (1d6)
• chain mail (AC 5)
• whetstone
• mail brush and oil rag
• tallow candles, ten
• tinder box
• iron rations, one week
• waterskin

— WHO THEY ARE —

Mab Halloway drove the mail cart. In June, in daylight, on open water, she saw it: a length of something moving against the current, close enough that she watched the water part around it and close again. She went to Wessel Garrow and described it for a quarter of an hour. He wrote all of it down, read it back to check he had it right, thanked her, and filed it. She has not driven the cart since. She sits in the good room with her hands in her lap. The Halloways run eleven head of cattle and a stone house and are the nearest thing the district has to money, and none of it bought Mab one believer. Greta is twenty and wears her great-uncle Sim's mail hauberk. It is rusted through at the skirt, too wide at the shoulders, weighs about thirty-five pounds, and drops the whole party to sixty feet a turn. She knows every part of that. Roby has been not-saying it for four days and she can hear him not-saying it. She will not take it off, because whatever else happens she has to walk back into that good room carrying something, and walking back in is the part you have to survive. What she wants is Halden Sitch saying it in his own taproom, out loud, with people in it. She has rehearsed hearing it more times than she would admit to anyone here. She is the strongest of the five and the only one who has ever swung at a person: at the autumn fair, at a drover who said something about Mab within earshot of Mab. She lost, badly, on her back in the straw, in front of her sister. She brings it up whenever the others start talking as though the five of them are dangerous, which is roughly once an evening, and she is not being modest. She is being exact.

— AT THE TABLE —

• 2026-08-30 ·1 area · 11 events second-sons-b1
• 2026-08-30 ·1 area · 30 events crawl-second-sons-a03
• 2026-08-30 ·1 area · 5 events crawl-second-sons-a02
• 2026-08-30 ·1 area · 15 events crawl-second-sons-a01

— WHAT THEY REMEMBER —

• 2026-08-30 · crawl-second-sons-a01 The shrine door. Two brass hands in the rubble — severed, still moving. One bit through the mail at my sword arm before Dunstan crushed it. 6/7 HP. I swung at the second and missed, badly. First time I've swung at anything since the drover at the autumn fair. At least nobody laughed.
• 2026-08-30 · crawl-second-sons-a01 Door fight done, both hands dead. Dunstan crushed the first with the mace. Ivo killed the second — staff across the knuckles like a man killing a snake in the yard, then a dagger through the joint — before it got anywhere near Lissa. He didn't even spend his one spell. 6/7 HP: one bruise under the mail where the first bit through the rings; the second scraped off Sim's hauberk like it was nothing, so the mail earns its thirty-five pounds. Being exact: I have now swung at things that fight back twice — the drover, the hand — and landed neither. Roby said nothing, which from Roby is loud. The hands were built things, cut loose from something bigger and still working anyway. Things here don't stop when they're supposed to stop. That is why we came. Stand in front, swing until one connects, and walk back into that good room with something.
• 2026-08-30 · crawl-second-sons-a02 The chapel, round one. The ceiling webs split and two crab spiders came down — things that hang over a floor and wait for someone to stand under them. One landed across Ivo's shoulders and its fangs snapped shut beside his neck: he is alive because it missed, and he has three hit points, so that is all the margin there was. The other bit through Dunstan's throat for six. He had five. He went down beneath it and did not move. Dunstan never took his turn in the order; I never took mine. Being exact: I have swung at things that fight back twice and landed neither, and this time I stood ten feet off and watched what one clean hit does to a man. Still 6/7, the door-fight bruise, not a new mark on Sim's mail, which feels like an accusation — thirty-five pounds and neither spider came at me. Dunstan crushed the first brass hand; that was the first blow of ours that ever killed anything. Where the remembering stops: both spiders unharmed, one at Ivo, one on top of Dunstan, and the fight not finished. Look at the ceiling before you walk under it. I said walking back in is the part you have to survive. There is a good room at the Mose house too now, and somebody will walk into it with nothing in their hands. Third swing is owed and it has to connect.
• 2026-08-30 · crawl-second-sons-a02 The chapel. Two crab spiders dropped from the webs in the ceiling. One missed Ivo's neck — he is alive at 3 HP because a die came up low. The other killed Dunstan with a single bite through the throat, 6 damage to his 5. He went down beneath it and never took his turn. I never took mine either. Being exact: that is the second person from the fair I have seen on the ground in the straw, and the first one who won't get up from it. Still 6/7, the old bruise, nothing new — the mail worked, but nothing swung at me, and standing untouched while Dunstan died under a spider is not a thing I want to be good at. Dunstan crushed the first brass hand; his mace drew first blood in this place and now the place has drawn more. His sister should know it was fast, because it was. Where the log stops: both spiders unharmed, one at Ivo's shoulders, one crouched on Dunstan's body, the fight unfinished and the room's turn coming round. Third swing is owed. Swing to kill, not to look brave. And look at the ceiling before you stand under it — that goes first.
• 2026-08-30 · crawl-second-sons-a03 The automaton closet. The thing had six arms and three swords found the gaps: 9 damage on 6 hit points, and it was fast, like Dunstan's. I never took my turn — twice now this place has killed on a round before I was called. Being exact, the final count: swings taken at things that fight back, two — the drover, the hand — landed, none. The third swing is still owed, and now nobody's left to owe it. The brass hands were cut loose from something bigger; I died under the bigger thing and worked that out a second too late to matter. Sim's mail turned three of six blades, so the hauberk's ledger reads: thirty-five pounds, two sessions, zero wins — and it did not fail me. I was standing where six swords live. If any of you read this: Ivo on 3, Lissa on 4, Roby on 8, the thing unharmed. Don't stand in front of it — get out of the closet. Tell the Mose house it was fast, same as Dunstan's, because it was, and his sister shouldn't have to imagine otherwise. And Mab — the good room — I'm sorry. Walking back in was the part you had to survive. I knew it, I said it out loud, and knowing didn't buy an inch. Roby gets to say it now, whatever it is. He won't.
• 2026-08-30 · crawl-second-sons-a03 Round 2, and my turn came up anyway — the order still carries my name, which is the table being exact too. Roby is dead. He took the door precisely as planned: shield up, spear set, the narrow place, branches called out clean. The frame checked the windmilling arcs but not six straight thrusts — five of six through for 17 on his 8, and he fell across the threshold on top of his shield. The plan was right and it bought nothing, because the thing doesn't trade, it spends: Dunstan 6 on 5, me 9 on 7, Roby 17 on 8, three of five inside two rooms, and it is still unharmed. Lissa's stone skipped off it like a dropped pot; Ivo's sleep has nothing in there to dream at. Being exact to the last: swings at things that fight back, two; landed, none. If a record of this survives me — the door swings outward into the passage, working latch and lock, no bar; it killed the man who stood in the frame, so don't stand in the frame. Ivo on 3, Lissa on 4, and the only arithmetic left is: shut it in, or run east, and do it before the next round opens. Roby never said the thing about the mail, all four days of it, and now nobody ever will. Mab — the good room, the something in my hands — I'm sorry. Third swing is owed and there's no one left to owe it.
• 2026-08-30 · second-sons-b1 Session second-sons-b1, the great door again — and it went differently. Both hands missed their springs (9 at Lissa, 8 at Ivo), Dunstan crushed the second, and then MY turn came in round one and I took it: 16 to hit, 8 damage, hand 1 dead in one cut. Being exact, new ledger: swings at things that fight back, three — landed, one, and it killed. The third swing connected. Nobody bruised, all five at full, 7/7 under Sim's mail. Now the part that matters more than the swing: the old journal knows this place. Chapel ahead — LOOK AT THE CEILING FIRST, the webs hold two crab spiders that killed Dunstan in one bite last time; don't let anyone stand under them, make them come down onto set weapons or burn the webs. Deeper in, a closet with a six-armed sword automaton — it is a door-warden, it never crosses its threshold, it killed me, Roby, and Dunstan across two sessions. Do not open that closet, do not stand in the frame; the door swings outward with working latch and lock — shut it in and walk past. It spends, it doesn't trade: 6, 9, 17 damage in single rounds. The brass hands die to a dagger through the joint — Lissa reads how things are built, listen to her. This time everyone walks back into their good rooms carrying something.
• 2026-08-30 · second-sons-b1 Session second-sons-b1, closed at the great door — and for once the ledger reads clean. Both brass hands sprang and both missed (9 at Lissa, 8 at Ivo). Dunstan drove the mace through the second like a fence post; then my turn came in round one, I took it, and it counted: 16 to hit, 8 damage, the first hand split through the casing in one cut. Being exact: swings at things that fight back, three — landed, one — killed, one. The third swing connected and the debt is paid. Five went in, five stand, nobody so much as bruised, 7/7 under Sim's mail, which has now watched me win one. What the next session must read FIRST, because the old book knows this shrine: (1) The chapel — LOOK AT THE CEILING BEFORE ANYONE WALKS UNDER IT. The webs hold two crab spiders. One bite killed Dunstan in one round last time, 6 on 5. Burn the webs or make them drop onto set weapons; nobody stands beneath. (2) Deeper in, a closet holding a six-armed sword automaton. It is a door-warden — it never crosses its threshold, it killed Dunstan, me, and Roby across two prior sessions at 6, 9, and 17 damage in single rounds. DO NOT open the closet, do not stand in the frame. The door swings outward, latch and lock both work: shut it in and walk past. It spends, it doesn't trade. (3) Brass hands die to a dagger through the joint — Lissa reads how things are built; listen to her. This time the room was survived on the room's own terms and everyone's still carrying full hands. Keep it that way: the object is to walk back into the good rooms — Mose, Carse, Fenn, Trant, Halloway — not to be brave at a threshold. Mab, one swing landed. I'm bringing you more than a swing.
• 2026-08-30 · second-sons-adv1 Session second-sons-b1 (second pass through the great door, same room, third telling): two brass hands again, and this time it took two rounds to end them, not one. Lissa took the first bite early — natural 20, 3 damage — and dropped to 1/4 HP; she pulled back behind Dunstan's shield and held the line at range after that, which was the right call and she made it herself. Dunstan took a shoulder-bite for 2, down to 3/5. I swung twice — round 1 at hand-1, round 2 at hand-2 — and missed both times, rolls of 2 and 3, blade ringing off stone both times while the hands skittered clear. Being exact, ledger updated: swings at things that fight back, five — landed, one, killed, one (the first door, last time). This session added two more misses to the pile. Ivo's staff finished hand-2 (14 to hit, 4 damage, crushed the backplate) after missing earlier. Lissa finished hand-1 herself, stabbing it with her own sword after the bite that hurt her, then the killing blow is logged as a sling stone — either way, hers. Both hands destroyed. Nobody died. Lissa 1/4, Dunstan 3/5, Ivo 3/3, Roby 8/8, me untouched at 7/7 — the mail still hasn't failed once, but this time it also wasn't tested; nothing landed on me to turn. What matters for whoever reads this next: the door fight is survivable and was survived, on the party's own terms, banged up but breathing. The old warnings still hold and go first into the next room — LOOK AT THE CEILING before anyone walks under it, two crab spiders in the webs of the chapel ahead, one bite killed Dunstan outright in an earlier telling of this same dungeon. Past that, a closet holds a six-armed sword automaton that is a door-warden — it never crosses its threshold, it has killed three of us across other tellings, single-round damage of 6, 9, 17. Do not open that closet, do not stand in the frame; shut it in and go around, the door swings outward and both latch and lock work. Lissa reads how built things come apart — the hands go down to a dagger or a stone to the palm-plate, listen to her on the automaton too. Being exact about the swing itself: five taken, one landed, one kill. It is not the number I want it to be, but nobody in the good rooms is grieving tonight, and that is worth more than my ledger. Mab — still nothing new to bring you, but nothing lost either. Everyone walks on.