Flashback medrun fallike the third.

[Eridanus]

Day 2, Winter of 416 AV
Early Morning
Aylasa Caves

"What does he want so early in the morning?!" Yeller grumbled.

"Just listen," Medal replied, though he was stifling a yawn as well.

The seemingly man who never get tired, Voodoo, was speaking as he gestured at the third picture he placed up in the cavern. Medrun Fallike, otherwise referred to as Mark Three, whom they were targeting next. This was a renowned gambler of a sort in the local area, and many people have either banned him from gambling or wanted to try their luck. The reason behind this was a little complicated.

He was just, in one word, lucky. It was not analytical skill in estimating probabilities, or even sleight of hand for skilled cheating techniques. No, it was simple and pure luck, which made it difficult for professional gamblers or professional cheaters to beat him. That caused many gambling houses, formal and underground, to ban him from playing against the house, but allowing him to play matches with other customers and they would get a cut. Instead, they took the risk - if any - and liabilities of holding him as a house player, and offered ridiculous odds for beating him. There was the occasional gambler who did, but on general the houses made money from the total profits and losses. Thus, those who wanted to gamble with him were those who wanted to make their lucky break from the highly profitable odds.

"We will break him, and cost the house enough to offer to buy him out as a slave, or something similar," Voodoo ended. Though the plan was simple yet ingenious, it was just too early in the morning for the team to show their appreciation, and Eridanus gave a half hearted clap. Though he did not really show it, Voodoo had a little downcast expression when his brilliant plan did not get the recognition it deserved. As he returned to the seats together with the team, Eridanus gave him a pat on the back as unspoken recognition for his plan, and he smiled imperceptibly in response.

Middleman took over at the cave wall, and he began assigning agents and logistics.

"Redeemer, your work in securing Mark One and Mark Two is highly commendable, according to Voodoo," Middleman remarked, referring to the maledicted cup that he made. "With that sort of reliability, I of course approve of Voodoo's plan for Mark Three. Your craft will be crucial in breaking him, or you'll cost us huge amounts of money that I think Head Quarters will not look kindly upon. Do not fail us here, Redeemer."

"Understood, Middleman."

"Coinsmith, you are to continue surveillance on Mark Three. Medal and Yeller, you two will begin our sub-operation. Medal, scout for our sub-target, Yeller you will assist in procuring the sub-target. Any questions?"

"Negative."

"Nope."

"Alright, move out, gentlemen," Middleman clapped his hands twice, dismissing the group.

Like how they secured the drunk, this time the plan was similar. Coinsmith was to continue keeping an eye on Mark Three and to report his activities. Medal was to work his intelligencing skills and select the unluckiest gambler he could find in the area. It was important not to select one who was temporarily down on his luck, or one who lost to superior gambling techniques or cheating techniques. He had to select one who was genuinely unlucky in dice, which was the main focus of their operation.

"Redeemer, you may remain in this cavern until Medal and Yeller return with the sub-target, which I expect them to take at least five days with Medal's skills. Take the time to think deeply about the design of your craft. Make sure that it is foolproof," Middleman prompted the only agent left who was not assigned anything at the moment.

"Will do, Middleman," Eridanus nodded, and he returned to his comfortable bedroll to sleep further, while the rest of his team already moved out to head towards their respective locations.

Ah, his luck could not get better.

[Eridanus]

Day 7, Winter of 416 AV
Early Evening
Aylasa Caves

"Did anyone order an 'unlucky gambler' package?" A voice boomed out from the entrance. Yeller strode in triumphantly, a bloody slumped corpse atop his shoulder as Medal briskly walked by with a victorious glint in his eyes.

"A tricky one, this guy. We accidentally uh... secured a couple of targets before I reasoned that they were the wrong ones. Still, we got a couple of people missing more than usual and things might get hectic," Medal remarked as Yeller dropped the corpse onto the ground. Due to the cold in the air the skin on the body was beginning to turn blue.

"Did the bounty hunters perhaps placed a notice for increased security around gambling areas?" Voodoo whispered conspiratorially.

"That they did!" Yeller replied, taking out a jerky from his pocket and chewing on it hungrily.

"Good... very good," Voodoo murmured to himself, though not caring to explain at the moment. "While we wait for Coinsmith's next report, I suggest that Redeemer get to work immediately. Any other orders for the two, Middleman?"

The nuit who had been silently meditating in the corner of the caves opened his eyes, shaking his head and rasping, "For now Yeller and Medal are free to rest and recover."

Yeller beamed as he trudged back to his messy bedroll, and Medal shrugged, heading back to the part of the cavern where they kept their belongings.

"Same drill, Voodoo," Eridanus grinned, brandishing his knife and together they hauled the freezing corpse out into the snow and out of the caverns. "I have been thinking, and we probably want a cup - those they use to shake dice with, if what we know of Mark Three is true from Coinsmith's reports. In which case, the type of bone we get would not matter. Since unluckiness is an attribute that would exist in the entire body, I think we would want to go for a more general representation."

With more instructions, the two of them cut away bones that belonged throughout the body. Bones from the legs, wrist, arms, ankles, torso, neck. The only unifying factor was that their size was generally constant.

"You know, the cold would probably help us."

Skinning a large canvass path out of the unfortunate victim's back, they shook the blood away from the skin, then brought their collected bones and the patch of fresh skin into the warmth of the cavern. It was for practical reasons, since Eridanus doubted that he could carve intricate shapes while his hands were shaking from the cold. Thick clothing could only bring one so far against the harsh realities of nature.

First, they laid out the skin propped against twigs above a gentle flame. The fire would dry away the skin, along with some of the embalming salt and fluids they borrowed from the nuit Middleman that they sprinkled on the patch of skin. After that they would place it out in the cold to allow it to be semi frozen to aid the preservation process.

Now it was time to focus on the actual product. After Eridanus drew the blueprints of what they were looking for on the cavern grounds, they got to work. Voodoo mostly followed instructions in carving down the various bones to size, while Eridanus did the final touches and fitted them together. After several bells of work, they ended up with a cage-like object. The round plate that came from the kneecap at the bottom, with several bones jutting upwards from its periphery.

After that, the left the skin out upon the higher rocks outside the cave to be 'treated by coldness' and went to sleep.

Day 8, Winter of 416 AV

The next day, they continued work, and brought the skin back in. Cutting the patch of skin so that it could cover the bone structure they made, Eridanus clicked his tongue with satisfaction when he figured that the general shape would look like a leather dice throwing cup. Before they wrapped the dried skin around though, he took up his carving knife to engrave the desired effects into their object.

On the surface of the base of the bone plate, he created a circle with the Nader-canoch words for "Djed" within. That served as the central feature that unambiguously drew from the victim's spirit. Next, on the various pillars of bones he wrote a series of words. "Unlucky", "Failure", "Trouble", "Wrong", "Miss", were some of the words he used. In general, the words he used were meant to create a story in which everything went wrong, and by linking all of the words on the pillar to the central 'djed' feature they would be provided context. "Unlucky" would then refer to the unfortunate life of the victim. "Failure" would refer to the general lack of success the victim achieved in his life. "Trouble" was the obstacle to success that always stood in his way. "Wrong" was the perfect description to describe his endeavors in life. "Miss" would be his accuracy in targeting the opportunities that appeared that might turn his luck around. All in all, a rather miserable picture was painted with these negative words, all meant to emphasize the prime feature for which this man was chosen for and slaughtered.

At the other end of the bone plate, he drew a small picture of two six-sided die that were the common symbol of gambling establishments. So far he had only been defining luck and success in general, drawing from this man's unfortunate aura. By drawing that picture he contextualized all of it to gambling, and thus channeling this unluckiness into the cup. With the fact that this was a cup meant to throw dice, he hoped to create an effect where - by definition - any die thrown using this cup would spell unhappiness.

Next, the two of them spent the rest of the morning to recreate the same cup using the other bones that remained, cutting out the same size of skin from the patch they cut from the man's back.

"One as the real one, the other as a fake. Be careful to differentiate the two, Voodoo," Eridanus warned, for this ability to not mistake the two would be crucial to their operations.

"No problem, I'll leave it to Medal to do it right," Voodoo replied nonchalantly.

They then wrapped up the skin around the two cups, stitching it in place with threads they any adventurer would keep in order to stitch their clothes while in the wilderness. With that, the maledictor dropped his blood into the cup that held the cursed symbols within, mentally directing the thoughts of his wanted effect as he did so.

"And next, it's showtime," He grinned, handing the cups to Voodoo.

[Eridanus]

Day 10, Winter of 416 AV
Early Evening
Outside Stormhold Castle, Syliras

In position, Eridanus gave a secret gesture which was returned by Medal who was lounging casually at the side of a nearby tent. There was some sort of informal bazaar-fair like set up outside of the Castle which made for open-air festivities. Undoubtedly, there would be various fortunetelling shops and gambling establishments set-up, with a cut of their profits going to the Knights of course. And undoubtedly, Medrun Fallike - Mark Three - would be there helping whichever house that paid him the most. The rest of their team were stationed at various parts of the bazaar strategically, with Coinsmith roaming the area and acting as a sort of runner that made sure everyone was still in place and that the plan was going well.

Eridanus was in another sort of disguise, but not a benshiran. As it was night, his celestial form was showing, and so he wore a hood that covered half his face, and more importantly, his horns. He wore a leather outfit with a cutlass at the side - looted by an unsuspecting mercenary guard ambushed by Yeller a few days earlier - that spoke of his profession as that of a mercenary guard. Well, of course, since his entire get up was looted directly from a mercenary guard. In any case, his job here was to pretend to be a off-duty sword-for-hire, seeking to relax and perhaps gamble some coin away. Of course, he was not intending to rely on just his luck. That was what Medal and his Projection abilities were for, to telekinetically ensure favorable dice for the ethaefal agent.

The ethaefal wandered innocently, switching tables as he observed the participants, trying to match the face of the people with the hand-drawn image of Mark Three that he memorized. He won some, he lost some, but that was all small change. The bigger target was still at large, and so he continued changing tables, playing a few games on each one before excusing himself so as to not seem suspicious. All in all, he was acting the part of the off-duty guard looking to make his luck at the tables, but trying to find the one with the perfect 'luck'. Behind him, Medal trailed stealthily, sometimes engaging in small talk with other people and generally mixing around in the festivities while keeping within a visible range with the disguised ethaefal. One of his hands was always kept limply tucked into his pocket.

Eridanus switched tables again, and he found himself looking at the real life version of the drawing that he memorized. The thick unibrow, the fortuitous plump look, the chubby jowl and the hearty laugh.

Mark Three spotted, he gestured with the predetermined hand signal discreetly behind his back, securing Medal's attention. The projectionist laughed and excused himself from his current conversation, walking around the area seemingly randomly but with an eye kept on the table. Already, the hand tucked into his pocket went limp proper as he detached his astral arm, floating it over the table his fellow agent was at.

"And... Mister Fallike wins again!" The table host declared, sweeping up the coins and placing it at Mark Three's side. They were basically playing "Highest Die wins". Each participant shakes a standard dice set of two six-sided dice, and a four, eight, ten, twelve and twenty sided die each. That made the lowest score possible to be seven, while the highest to be sixty-six. So far, Mark Three had been averaging at the high fifty point, though his score rose and lowered enough to make sure that he was still the highest in the table.

And so he joined the table, taking out his innocent looking dice throwing cup to shake his dice with. After a brief inspection by the table host, he was allowed to join. As there were often not enough cups to serve the large number of participants, it was common for long-time gamblers to bring their own 'lucky' cups to play with. The home-made image of his own one furthered his image as a gambling hobbyist.

Shaking his cup, he slammed it onto the table dramatically, revealing a total score of thirty. All around him, gamblers groaned as they looked at their cups, though one of them hit a pretty high score.

"Aaaand with a total of sixty-three Mister Fallike takes the win again!" The table host declared to a collection of groans. Eridanus continued in this fashion, and after a few gamblers joined and left the table, he decided that he was there long enough but short enough to not draw suspicion.

Another discreet gesture behind his back for Medal.

It is time for Phase Two.

It was now of the utmost importance for him to shake his cup carefully in the manner that they have rehearsed and practised for countless times to make it right.

Slam. Sixty.

"And the win goes to...?"

"Smith. John Smith," Eridanus muttered.

"...Mister Smith!" The host announced, to a collection of more curses.

Mark Three looked surprised, though he knew that his luck could not sustain him forever. Take some, lose some, but on the whole his luck still brought him over.

Next round. Fifty-three.

"And the win goes again to Mister Smith!"

More gasps.

Next round. Sixty-six.

Mark Three slammed his table with both hands. Never had he lost in a dice game three times in a row before.

"Pause this round, Ignes, I want to have a one-on-one with Mister Smith over there," Mark Three rasped, his eyes a dangerous glint as he stared intently at the disguised ethaefa.

Eridanus shrugged, and the table host gestured for them to begin.

As they shook their cups, Eridanus said, "How about raising the stakes, Mister Fallike. Small change doesn't seem to fit me especially when I'm on a roll like this."

"Oho. So someone fancy himself being lucky? Fifty gold. You're on!"

Slam. Forty-five against... twelve?

Eridanus tried not to break into laughter. So this time instead of helping his own score Medal decided to screw with Fallike's one instead. The chubby man stared in horror at his score, then seemingly got over it as he waved his hand dismissively at the table host.

"Let's have another round. Put me on credit!" He told the table host.

"Put me on credit too," Eridanus repeated, pushing over his winnings as a deposit of sorts.

Over the next few games, Eridanus lost on purpose, this time Medal not touching his own rolls and making sure to boost Mark Three's rolls, though it was not difficult for the man had natural luck in his throws. The agent began to feign increasing desperation, and was soon in a debt that numbered in the high three digits.

"I am all in for the last one!" The ethaefal declared in a fake shrill voice. "Eight Hundred Gold!"

"I am not sure Luck is on your side, Mister Smith," Mark Three drawled, drawing circles with his finger on the table menacingly. "And you are already on credit for over seven hundred gold. I'll tell you what, use your body as capital. I'm sure you are well worth as a slave."

"So be it!" Eridanus retorted without a thought, a hint of desperation carefully placed in the tone of his voice.

"Let it roll then!" Mark Three laughed.

Slam. Sixty-six against seven.

The gathering audience watched the scene in amazement.

"And, John Smith wins this round!" The table host announced.

"W-wait! One more!" Mark Three's eyes bulged out in horror, but Eridanus laughed as he swept up the gold, saying, "And it's the end of the night for me."

"The boss will want to know why you've lost us so much capital, Mister Fallike," The table host told the shivering gambler earnestly.

As Eridanus left the area, the gambler left the table as well, following him. Eridanus walked quickly to a more quieter area, yet there was no intention to abduct the man. Not just yet.

"How did you do that?" Mark Three accused nervously. "My eyes have been trained over the years of gambling, you have no sleight of hand. How did you do it?"

Eridanus pretended to be deep in thought, then replied carelessly, "I suppose it might be the lucky cup that this konti gave me-"

"What lucky cup? The one you used?"

"I heard that it grants the user luck depending on one's desperation. The more desperate, the luckier one gets," Eridanus lied flawlessly. "But I suppose I no longer have need for it, since I have enough to retire thanks to you-"

"Sell it to me!" Mark Three begged. The lie of the cup working due to desperation appealed to the gambler who must be feeling quite desperate now.

"What can you give me? You have no gold to buy my cup with," Eridanus said. Remembering what Voodoo told him to say, he continued, "But what you can give me is information. Mister Fallike, tell me the location of Eran Sidvol."

"E-eran? Why would you...?" Mark Three mumbled in a disoriented manner. The entire situation did not make sense to him at all.

"Well I suppose you don't need the cup after all. Have fun repaying your debts," Eridanus quickly interjected, breaking the man's line of thought to prevent him from reaching a conclusion that might put suspicion on him.

"Wait wait! I want it!"

It was fortunate that the man's increasing desperation made his thought incoherent, for it was only in such a situation that this would work. Though, Eridanus supposed that he had Voodoo's and Middleman's meticulous planning to thank.

"Where is he?"

"Eran is in Sunberth! Johnny has him working the last time I saw-"

"Tall Johnny?" Eridanus narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, yes that's the one. Can I have the cup now?" Mark Three prompted, his voice almost in a squeal especially when he noticed two rather large looking guys walking towards him that came in the direction of their tables.

"Don't tell anyone about this, or the luck of the cup will run out," Eridanus warned, reaching into his pocket to hand him the cup. The cursed one.

Inspecting it and finding that it looked identical to the one Eridanus used, he pocketed it thankfully, then headed back to the tables with an expression of being saved on his face.

Far from it.

Over the course of the night, Fallike found himself being placed further and further into debt, and not long after Middleman appeared at the opportune moment, negotiating to buy the gambler as a slave from the owner of the gambling establishment. Taking the whimpering man out of the area, Voodoo gave him a sip of... 'water' on their way back to their caves.

Mark Three secured. Mission accomplished.

[Eridanus]

Skill Requests

• Malediction
• Wilderness Survival/Butchering
• Carving
• Tanning/Leatherworking (for the skin)
• Drawing
• Glyphing
• Acting
• Disguise
• Subterfuge
• Negotiation
• Intimidation
• Interrogation
• Leadership
• Gambling

Lore Requests

• Lucky Seven Milestone: Medrun Fallike (third)
• Crafting: The Dice Throwing Cup of Misfortune

[Cloud]

XP Reward!

From the sky falls your reward!

PC Name: Eridanus

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Malediction	+2
Wilderness Survival	+1
Tanning	+1
Leatherworking	+1
Glyphing	+2
Acting	+4
Disguise	+3
Subterfuge	+4
Negotiation	+1
Intimidation	+1
Interrogation	+1
Leadership	+2
Gambling	+2

Lores

•	Lore Earned
•	Lucky Seven Milestone: Medrun Fallike (third)
•	Crafting: The Dice Throwing Cup of Misfortune

I thoroughly enjoyed reading that, slick way to make a man go broke quick. Nice work! If you have any questions or concerns feel free to pm me!