Seven Matts

Game Twenty-Eight: Seven Matts
 
There was magic in this world once, but they stole it all away.
 
The black knight clanked into the hut: The convenient holes in the wall meaning a door was no longer needed. Though he looked like he had a similar helmet to the previous knight. He wore black robes, and appeared ready to engage in some pugilism.
 
Bastard strolled over and set down his sword, cracking his filthy knuckles offering various witticisms. Yuk pulled a bowl of noodles from his hair, and began eating. Bastard mentioned he’d had his fill of the knight, and so the duck stepped up.
 
Ophelia licked her lips in anticipation of a delicious meal.
 
“No one shall be getting past me.”
 
He entered a combative stance. The duck strolled up, launching a wing buffet. The black robe swung his leg out to trip the duck, with no luck.
 
Wrecker and Ophelia talked about how delicious that duck was going to be.
 
The duck was launched in the air by a powerful bicycle kick, but he fluttered to the ground flapping furiously: beckoning for the knight to come forth. A flurry of punches, kicks, and jumps followed. The duck was not getting the better of the exchange, and Bastard got tired of hearing the awful bird noises he was making. He walked over and did not slap the black robed fellow in the face.
 
Eventually he did slap the robed fellow, grossing him out quite thoroughly. In retaliation, he launched the dwarf a very short distance. The duck got in a lucky hit, and Bastard swun over and over: continually missing.
 
Several minutes later, they began hacking off arms and legs from the fellow. Eventually he was reduced to a biting torso, and upon a decapitating blow being struck the dice rolled out of Bastards pocket: Tearing a hole in time and space and pulling the brothers through once again.
 
They found themselves in an arena packed with spectators. Also in the arena were dozens of knights who rushed to encircle the party with ‘murder in their eyes’. Apparently they had found themselves in the Ashlands. Apparently it was not so much a fighting tournament as a ‘Trade show’ of the three corporations present. At the mention of battle however, they were eager to inflict some punishment upon the party as they lacked the proper permits to be in the vendor area. Apparently they were to be held until such time as this ‘dice’ and ‘black knight’ were located and dealt with appropriately.
 
A fellow appeared, offering himself as a corporate liaison until the situation was resolved. He offered ‘temporary permits’ so the party could enjoy the vendors. They just had to sign their names to a list he had prepared, and they did so.
 
Dozens of tents were available offering various services and goods they had (probably) never seen before. Firearms, exotic foods both savory and sweet, countless tests of skills or blade, and numerous games of chance.
 
Yuk went off in search of noodles, he found his way to a noodle shop and set up camp. Suddenly a larger fellow rolled into the shop, suggesting that his seat was where Yuk was. In short order they became the best of friends. Noodle friends.
 
The duck went seeking some medical attention. He was offered some ‘experimental medical miracles’. With whirling hands and swirly mustache, he mixed up a series of powders and fluids, running them through tubes which heated and cooled them. In the end a bubbling tincture was fizzing in a clear glass, smelling faintly of electricity and blueberries.
 
In a single gulp, he swallowed the mysterious blue fluid. He found his wounds mending, with apparently minimal side effects. He listed how he was feeling for the alchemists data sheets and walked past several previous subjects who seemed less-than-ideally affected by the ‘potion’.
 
He did not notice as the liaison gestured to the unlawful alchemist and he was carried off in chains. He was feeling back to his normal self almost.
 
Ophelia wandered into the booths of Behemoth Incorporated, taking a peek at the latest and greatest biological innovations that were on display. Inspiration struck as she saw the grafts, growths, and alterations proudly on display. She had some work to do on herself, once this ridiculous dice rolling issue was resolved.
 
Not seeming like the usual madcap experimenter, she was not quite a fit for the usual cold stoic scientist type. She did a little fishing for information, offering an infusion of funds for a little insider information. Ability infusion from one creature to another, with a fatal reaction a great deal of the time. Most of the time these things were done on prisoners. She offered a modest investment to be kept in the loop and promised more if things panned out: commissioning and giving out business cards: Ophelia Desmondel: Chimera Queen
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
Bastard went off in search of an armorer, trying out the heft of his various wares. Various geometrical shapes were offered in various metals. As it turned out, the dwarf was a big fan of the triangles at first, but ultimately decided on the square shapes. Rather than pay him for his shield, he distracted the shopkeeper (who was very enthusiastic about shapes) with a sickening touch, causing him to vomit all over the shield. Feigning disgust at what he had done he pilfered the shield. One slightly soiled square shield was now in his possession.
 
The wrecker found himself surrounded by officials who moved to confiscate his ‘walking staff’ and take him into custody. The other members of the party found the growing crowd around the altercation and pushed their way through.
 
Bastard was insisting that ‘The Wrecker’ was not in fact a fugitive on the run from the southern lands of the Shattered Collective. The Wrecker did not have much to speak of on the matter.
 
Ophelia swooped in: Business card in hand and managed to dispel the growing tensions. In the end it was concluded that not all warforged look the same (though in fact, they’re quite similar as it turns out) and the officials went on their way.
 
Suddenly the party felt reality shift, and they knew that the dice had been rolled.
 
Yuk found himself sleep-eating, finding himself in a strange castle full of noodles which he never quite got to eat. He found himself a little less durable afterwards (-1 Will Saves).
 
Bastard and Ophelia found they could inflict unluckiness once per day (-1 to next roll, +1 to following roll).
 
The duck found himself feeling more likely to sing: Feeling he had to break into song every 1d6 hours (unless he made a wil save dc 15).
 
The Wrecker found himself referring to previous deeds and accomplishments as ‘numbered scenes’, rather a strange turn of events.
 
Suddenly, a wash of grey energy enveloped the area. An enormous figure armoured in chain mail and carrying a man-sized blade covered in flames, A Chain-saw sword of sorts. The duck ran towards the fellow, and Bastard scooped him back much to Ophelia’s chagrin.
 
Yuk rushed in, barreling into the large foe. He was not moved. Bastard held the duck, and his action. Ophelia crouched, ready to pounce at the right time. Wrecker laid into the fellow with his staff weapon and sending an arm flying. Ophelia followed into the opening, ripping and tearing his other limbs off. The strange effects of the dice stayed for some, and left for others. Quite strange, a bit random. The gypsies had remained, and were relieved to see the brothers again.