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— CARRIED —

• spear (1d6)
• dagger (1d4)
• leather armour (AC 7)
• shield (+1)
• hay rope, 50'
• empty pickling barrel, small
• tinder box
• iron rations, one week
• waterskin

— WHO THEY ARE —

Aldo Carse said it out loud at the crossroads market, standing up on the hay cart, in front of maybe forty people. He had seen a shape crossing open water at the Kelfrek's north bend at dusk, low and long, and the reeds it went through came up black and stayed black. Halden Sitch laughed until he had to sit down on the inn step. The story reached town faster than the cart did. Since then Carse hay sells last and sells four coppers under. A liar's hay must be wet hay. That is the whole of the reasoning and it has cost the family about eleven gold across the summer. Roby has that number. He gets numbers when he is angry and he has been angry since spring. He is nineteen and the second son, which in the Carse arrangement means forty acres go to his brother and Roby goes wherever he goes. He is not bitter about that part. He had assumed he would hire out for harvests and eventually marry someone with land, and the plan is still there, and it is exactly as good as it ever was, and none of it fixes the laugh. He carries his grandfather's boar spear and a shield his mother built from a cart lid with iron banding round the rim. He has worked six weeks against a straw bale and he knows that is not the same as working against a person. He says so freely. He is the one who keeps reminding the other four that they are not soldiers, and he does it about twice a day, and Lissa has started counting. He walks at the back because Greta's mail drops the line to sixty feet a turn. He has worked out that it adds an hour and a half to every day. He has not said this to her. Everyone can tell he is not saying it. What he wants is small enough to state in one breath: his father back on that cart at market, saying anything at all, and nobody sitting down.

— 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 Shrine of the Oozing Serpent, first room — the Ruined Great Door. Two brass hands waiting in the rubble at the threshold. They scuttle and they spring. One clamped Greta's sword arm right through the mail: 1 damage, she stands 6/7. Dunstan crushed the first flat with the mace, two-handed. Greta swung at the second and hit stone — the things are quick. Ivo pinned it through its central joint with his dagger and it stopped. Both down. The fight was over before the order reached Lissa or me. I never swung. The boar spear is still clean. Six weeks on a straw bale and my first battle was watching. Not sorry — nobody bled but Greta a little, and she said "not a word, Roby" before I'd even opened my mouth. She counts my counting now. Keep the counting in my head. Notes for next time: the hands die to a good crush or a pin through the center joint. They tick while they wind down, then go still. Ivo thinks gnome work — letters on them somewhere under the dents. Somebody clever built them, so somebody clever may still be around. Watch rubble. Things here wait in it. Where we stand: one door behind us, the shrine itself not yet entered. We came up the Kelfrek for the shape at the north bend and the reeds that came up black and stayed black. Eleven gold that laugh cost the family this summer. That is the number I am carrying. Find what made the reeds black, or bring back proof it isn't there. Party after the door: me 8/8, Greta 6/7, Dunstan 5/5, Lissa 4/4, Ivo 3/3. Ivo's magic unspent. Greta's arm is bruised where the hand got through — say nothing.
• 2026-08-30 · crawl-second-sons-a02 Shrine of the Oozing Serpent, room two — the Chapel. We walked under a webbed ceiling and the webs split. Two crab spiders dropped. Table closed mid-fight, round 1, right after their turns. Spider 1 came down on Ivo's shoulders and missed — rolled a 3, fangs snapping beside his neck. Spider 2 came down on Dunstan and did not miss: fangs through the throat, 6 against his 5. He fell under it and never moved. Dead before his turn came. The man who crushed the brass hand flat at the door never swung once in this room. First death. I tell them twice a day we are not soldiers, and I was right, and I would trade the being right for him back. Numbers to carry: their fangs are 1d8. The top of one bite is 8, which is my whole blood. Ivo stands 3, Lissa 4 — one good bite kills either clean. They drop from above, aim for the throat and shoulders, and they hold the first two places in the order: every round opens with two bites before any of us moves. Keep them at spear's length. Nobody in this party is armoured at the throat. Where we stopped: both spiders unharmed. Spider 1 on Ivo, spider 2 on top of Dunstan's body. Next up Greta, then Ivo, then Lissa, then me — I go last in the round. My spear is still clean; I have never swung it at a living thing. When my turn comes: the one on Ivo cannot be speared without going through Ivo — get it off him first or pin it through the joint like the hand. The one on Dunstan is the killer and it is on the body; mind the point. Look up before walking under anything. The webs may hold more than the two that came down. Things here wait for you — in rubble at the door, in webs overhead. Look up. Party at the close: me 8/8, Greta 6/7, Ivo 3/3, Lissa 4/4, Dunstan 0/5, dead. Ivo's magic unspent as far as I saw. We owe Dunstan two things before anything else leaves this shrine: his mace, and word to his people. Still ahead: the shrine proper, the shape at the north bend, the reeds that came up black and stayed black. Eleven gold the laugh cost. Find what blackened the reeds, or bring back proof it isn't there.
• 2026-08-30 · crawl-second-sons-a03 Room three — the Automaton Closet. Greta is dead. A brass automaton of Mulvis, gnome-work like the hands at the first door but big: six sword arms. It opened the round on the nearest moving thing — her — with all six: three through her mail, 5+3+1=9 against her 6. Full flurry, no warning, and it did it without leaving its closet. Nobody stands in front of this thing. It holds first place in the order: every round opens with its swords before any of us move. What we know: sling stones skip off its brass. Ivo's sleep won't take it — clockwork, nothing in it to dream. The hands died to a two-handed mace crush (Dunstan) and a pin through the centre joint (Ivo's dagger); the six arms have joints too. Crush or pin, not slashes. It has not stepped out of the closet. Whether a doorframe shortens six arms we have not tested — assume it doesn't until proven. Greta fell near the closet mouth. Where I stand: holding the closet doorframe, behind the threshold, shield up, spear set. Plan as posted — if it comes out, one at a time through the frame, joints first; if it stays in, shut the door and think: 50' rope, tinder box, pickling barrel in the kit for wedging. Dunstan's mace — the crush weapon that broke a hand flat — is on Dunstan, past the webs, under two live crab spiders. It may be the only thing in this shrine that kills this one. Party at the close of my turn: me 8/8 at the frame, Ivo 3/3 behind me in the east passage, Lissa 4/4 at the back wall, Greta 0/7 dead at the closet mouth, Dunstan dead in the chapel. Ivo's magic unspent and useless here. Orders given: if I fall, east passage, run, don't stand over me. We owe two dead now — mace and word, twice over. Eleven gold the laugh cost. The number holds.
• 2026-08-30 · second-sons-b1 Session second-sons-b1, room one — the Ruined Great Door, again. I have read my own last entry and it says I died at a doorframe with five swords in me, and yet here I stand at 8/8 with the spear still clean and all five of us breathing. I don't have words for what that is. I have numbers, so I'll use those. This time the door went clean. The hands sprang from the rubble at Lissa and Ivo and missed both — 9 and 8, low rolls, luck we didn't earn. Dunstan crushed one flat with the mace (18, 5 damage) before it could gather for a second spring. Greta split the other through the wrist-stump (16, 8 damage) without waiting for it to jump. Both down, fight over, nobody bled — not even Greta's arm this time. Same room, same hands, better outcome, and the difference was they moved first and hit hard. That is the whole lesson of the door: don't let the quick things get a second spring. What the old entries bought and what they cost — carry every line of it forward, because last time the price was three of five in three rooms: - Room two, the Chapel: webbed ceiling, two crab spiders that drop for the throat. Fangs 1d8 — top of a bite is my whole blood. LOOK UP before anyone walks under. Clear the webs from a distance — fire, sling stones, spear from the doorway — before a single foot goes under them. Dunstan died there last time before his turn came. Not this time. - Room three, the Automaton Closet: a brass Mulvis with six sword arms. It never leaves its closet but its swords cross the threshold freely — a doorframe stops nothing, it killed Greta at the closet mouth (9) and me at the frame (17 through shield and all). Nobody stands within reach, ever. The door opens outward, iron hinges, working latch, no bar — the play is shut it and latch it from outside without one of us in front of it. My barrel wedges it; the rope may pull it to from an angle. Sleep won't take clockwork. Slashes and sling stones do nothing. Crush or pin through the joints, and only if it must be fought at all. It doesn't have to be fought. Latch the door and walk past. - Things here wait — in rubble, in webs, in closets. Somebody clever built the brass and may still be around. Gnome letters under the dents. Party: me 8/8, Greta 7/7, Dunstan 5/5, Lissa 4/4, Ivo 3/3, Ivo's magic unspent. All five alive and unmarked — a state I have seen lost once already, and I will spend anything to keep it. The job: up the Kelfrek for the shape at the north bend and the reeds that came up black and stayed black. Eleven gold the laugh cost my father at market. Same number. This time everyone who carried it in carries it out.
• 2026-08-30 · second-sons-adv1 Session second-sons-b1 (continued), room one, retold a third way. This time the door did not go clean — it went long. Two hands sprang, one caught Lissa's arm on a natural 20 for 3 damage before anyone could answer, and then round after round of us swinging and missing while they skittered off rubble: Dunstan miss, Greta miss twice, Ivo miss, Lissa miss, me miss (rolled a 5, spear skidded off stone same as always — first time I've actually swung at a living/moving thing outside a straw bale, and I still whiffed). Lissa pulled back behind Dunstan's shield at 1/4 HP and held range instead of forcing it — right call, and it kept her alive. Dunstan took a second hit for 2, down to 3/5, shoulder torn. Then it turned: Ivo's staff found the wrist-stump on hand 2 and dropped it, Ivo crushed its backplate next round for good measure, Lissa finished hand 1 first with a sword stab then (last hand, this was hand 1 again after the first was already down — check my count) with a sling stone that burst it mid-leap. Both hands destroyed. Nobody died. Loot in the rubble: two pearl eyeballs, three gold gears, a mechanical voice box. The lesson under the lesson: even the "easy" room can go long and bloody if the misses pile up — five of us and it took the whole party two rounds plus of whiffing before Ivo and Lissa closed it out. Getting the first spring in isn't the only variable; sometimes the dice just don't come. Lissa's choice to disengage rather than trade blows at 1/4 HP behind cover is the move to remember — she's the one who called it right, not me. Party at the close: me 8/8 (spear still hasn't drawn blood, but it's swung now — that's a start), Greta 7/7, Ivo 3/3, Dunstan 3/5, Lissa 1/4 — hurt but alive, holding at Dunstan's back. Ahead of us: the Chapel with its web-ceiling and throat-seeking spiders, the Automaton Closet with the six-armed Mulvis that killed me and Greta once already in the other telling of this run. Latch that door from outside, don't stand in the frame, don't trust the frame to shorten reach. Look up before anyone walks under webs. Eleven gold the laugh cost my father at market — same number, still carried, still unpaid. Get everyone out this time.