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Ander Vale

Right. I take the ruined threshold, shield up between the others and the first brass hand. Stay this side of the stone. Watch the fittings before anyone steps over. Sword at the nearest hand.

DM

Ander’s blade skids across the brass palm without biting. Both mounted hands wrench free of the ruined doorposts, fingers spreading as they crawl toward him over the threshold stones.

DM

The first hand springs at Ander’s face. He catches its palm on his shield and shoves it down; brass fingers rake across the shield rim without finding flesh.

DM

The second hand darts around Ander’s sword side and snaps at his wrist. He jerks his arm clear, and its fingers close with a sharp metallic crack.

Brea Thornwick

“Vale. Hold the left.” Brea stays behind the threshold and sends an arrow through the first hand’s exposed wrist joint.

DM

Brea’s arrow strikes the wrist joint but glances from its curved brass collar. The first hand keeps crawling, unharmed.

Mira Ashdown

Brass is the wrong argument for edges. The sword skated off the palm and the arrow glanced from the collar, so I answer with the one spell that does not need to bite: I stay well back of the threshold, out of anything's leap, level the hazel wand at the nearer hand — the one working at Ander's shield — and send a Magic Missile into its workings. Gnomish work, this. Hands that serve a door. When they are still, I want to read what is written on them.

DM

A pale bolt leaps from Mira’s wand and strikes the nearer hand without wavering. The magic punches through its palm for 6 damage; light flashes between its finger joints, and the construct drops inert at Ander’s feet.

DM

Oskar brings his war hammer down squarely on the surviving hand. The blow crushes its palm against the threshold for 2 damage; its fingers twitch once and go still. With both constructs destroyed, the doorway falls quiet.