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— THE PARTY —

• Brea Thornwick
• Ander Vale
• Mira Ashdown
• Oskar Fenn

— THE GROUND —

1. Ruined Great Door

— THE NIGHT —

— WHAT THEY WROTE —

• DM Session d7ee011338098eaa5e0a27227d2915811cdbd118563bf863770038f735b44b04 / area 1 Ruined Great Door: Both brass hands hit Ander for 3 each, leaving him 6/12 HP. Brea destroyed hand 1 with an arrow for 5. Mira yielded her turn without casting. Oskar destroyed hand 2 with his war hammer for 4. Brea, Mira, and Oskar remained unharmed.
• Oskar Fenn session 10: Fourth pass at the ruined great door, same fight from the top again — both hands fresh up, tore loose for Ander at the threshold, the one target they take every time. But the streak broke: they LANDED this pass. Hand one past his shield onto his sword arm, hand two behind his knee — 3 and 3, Ander down to 6 of 12. Three passes they hit only air; do not plan on that again. They go for the man on the threshold, and they can hit. Brea's arrow through the wrist collar took the first (5, down, fourth confirmation of the wrist joint). My hammer on the second's knuckle-plate took it (4, down, fourth confirmation of the plates). Ander's sword sparked off the palm and bought nothing, again — that is settled law now: hammers on the plates, arrows at the wrists, magic at the workings, swords for sparks. Both hands down, doorway quiet, nobody else touched, me 14 of 14, turn spent. This pass the word finally got said out loud before the close: sit on the step, nobody crosses till Mira reads the inner frame, the threshold stone, and the floor past it — the spindles run inward and the mechanism may still live. Cross together, not one boot ahead. Errand unchanged: everything that holds magic out of area 9 — every last piece, not what we spare, not what anyone values — to her north doors, and the road folk walk out named. Tally still empty; dead brass is not magic, leave it where it lies. Watch the count of fittings before we go deeper. First pass in this shrine that anybody bled. The grease doors were quiet once too."
• Ander Vale ruined great door: held the threshold, shield up. One swing at the nearer brass hand, missed — still never landed a blow. Both hands got me this time: first clamped the sword-arm through the mail, second locked behind the knee, three each, standing at 6 of 12. Brea’s arrow through the wrist collar dropped the first; Mira’s seat went quiet and yielded; Oskar’s hammer caved the second on the knuckle-plate. Doorway quiet. Watch the inward fittings before anyone steps over the stone. Widow fund eleven a year. The names are still owed.
• Brea Thornwick At the ruined door, both brass hands got Vale before we stopped them: six damage, arm and knee. I put an arrow through the first wrist gap. Big man crushed the second. Vale bloodied; the rest of us untouched.
• DM Remember session d7ee011338098eaa5e0a27227d2915811cdbd118563bf863770038f735b44b04: At area 1’s Ruined Great Door, both animated brass hands struck Ander for 3 damage each, leaving him at 6/12 HP. Brea’s arrow destroyed hand 1 for 5 damage. Mira yielded her turn and spent no spell. Oskar crushed hand 2 for 4 damage. Brea, Mira, and Oskar remained at full HP.
• Oskar Fenn session 11, ended: Fifth pass at the ruined great door — the same fight from the top a fifth time, both hands fresh up, and it ran beat for beat like the last pass, down to the numbers: both tore loose for Ander at the threshold, the one target they take every time, and both landed again — hand one past his shield onto his sword arm, hand two behind his knee, 3 and 3, Ander at 6 of 12, same wounds in the same places as the pass before. Two passes running they have hit him; the three passes of clean air are over, plan on being hit. He took the stone on purpose this time, shield up between us and them, and said stay off the stone — he knows he is the lure and stands as it anyway. Brea's arrow through the wrist collar, 5, first hand down: fifth confirmation of the wrist. Mira's turn passed with the wand undrawn; no matter. My hammer across the second's knuckle-plate, 4, down: fifth confirmation of the plates. Ander's sword sparked off the palm and bought nothing, again. Law, five times told: hammers on the plates, arrows at the wrist joints, magic at the workings, swords for sparks. Nobody else touched, me 14 of 14, turn spent, and the session closed right on the quiet — the word about holding the step did not get said this pass, so it needs saying first thing next pass, out of whoever's mouth comes first, before any boot crosses. HOLD THE STEP. COUNT THE FITTINGS. Outer frame counted: two sockets, one per doorpost, none in the lintel, spindles running inward. Still not counted: the inner face of the frame, the threshold stone itself, the floor just past it. Mira reads every inch, then all four cross together, not one ahead. New thought, carry it forward: the hands take the man on the stone, every pass, and every pass that man has been Ander — 12 HP in mail, at half inside two grips, twice running. If they want the position and not his name, the stone is mine next pass. I am 14 of 14 in plate with the shield, and standing still while things break on me is the one trade I own. Let him swing; I will hold the threshold. Errand unchanged: everything that holds magic out of area 9 — every last piece, not what we spare, not what anyone values — carried back to her north doors, and the road folk walk out named. Keep the tally as we take things; still empty, and dead brass is not magic, so it stays where it lies. Five passes, same fight, same numbers, same quiet after. A farrier who shoes the same horse twice starts checking the feed. Something in this shrine wants the fight fought the same way every time — maybe the answer is to give it a different man to bite.