Ford's players listened intently as he drew the portrait of a crowded medieval tavern: the raucous laughter of the drunken patrons, the clings and clangs of utensils and mugs, the soft strumming of a bard playing his lute. So far, so good, Ford thought, slightly relieved. Perhaps it had been silly to worry so much. He and his family had fought demons from the Apocalypse and lived to tell the tale; surely, they could play a silly little game without everything going to hell?
Five minutes was all it took for Ford to change his mind.
Everything began, of course, with Stan being—well, Stan being Stan.
"The barmaid is coming to your table," Ford narrated, "carrying your food and drinks. It is standard fare, for the most part, but you are all rather famished. She turns away to leave as you dive into your meals."
Stan rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. "Jus' a sec, Sixer… the gal, how does she look?"
Ford just stared at Stan, knowing perfectly well the twisted turn his brother's thoughts had just taken. Stan gazed back, and he has the gall to attempt an innocent look.
"She hobbles a bit," Ford said, dry as sandpaper, "thanks to a bum leg. You'd say she's about seventy or so. She opens her mouth, showing rotten, yellowed teeth, and blasting you with the stench of her breath, which stinks of bad ale."
"Sweet," Stan said, making finger guns. "Exactly what I was looking for. I'd have felt bad if she was young or pretty. I'm a creep, but not that kind of creep, you know what I'm sayin'?"
"Eww," Dipper and Mabel said, simultaneously.
"Real classy, Mr. Pines," Wendy said, not even taking her eyes off her phone.
"She's also very, very married," Ford said.
Stan shrugged. "Might be an unhappy marriage. I could be doing her a favour."
Maybe if Ford glared hard enough, Stanley would drop the matter. "You, uh, catch a glimpse of her husband tending to the counter," he said instead. "He's built like a brick house, bulging muscles and the like. One look, and you feel the inner rage just brimming under that stony facade. It would be idiotic to chase a fight with such a man..."
"Huh," Stan said. "Smells like a challenge to me. I look at the gal and say, 'hey there, come here often?'"
And thus began Ford's nightmare.
As Ford had warned, the woman's husband stomped over to their table, ready to give Stan a piece of his mind. It ended in an all-out brawl, to the great joy of Wendy, whose barbarian was all too happy to break a few jaws. In order to protect her friend, Mabel decided to cast a spell… only to forget about a little something called 'area-of-effect'. Her pink-clad, overly friendly bard made half the tavern explode, including the wooden counter and its entire supply of liquor.
When the town guard rushed into the premises, weapons drawn and out, Stan cried out, "Over my dead body, suckers!" before charging at them. The ever-loyal Soos jumped to his aid, completely forgetting that his goody-two shoes cleric would never do such a thing. Fidds hurried to cast a spell, but fumbled his roll; the fire bolt hit a chair, which then promptly burst into flames.
After a severe thrashing, the guards dragged the party away to prison, where they would serve time for the not-so-little crimes of public mayhem, arson and attempted theft of a chicken (Mabel had wanted to 'save her poor little feathered buddy from the flames').
To say Dipper was dismayed with this turn of events would be putting it mildly ("We haven't even started the main quest!" he kept moaning, hiding his face into his hands). Mabel tried to sweet-talk the guards, saying that they had to get out, because they were heroes invested with a divine mission (Ford was not sure where she'd gotten such an impression). Soos wondered if that meant he now had a criminal record ("Does that mean I hafta get prison tattoos, dudes?"), while Wendy just grinned, saying, "Sweet, first time in jail." Finally, Fidds saved everyone's sorry skins by opening the lock to their cell with one of his little robots.
It was at this moment that Stan rubbed his hands together, saying, "Heheh, off to a good start, are we?"
Those words should have struck Ford with dread. Instead, he only squinted at his brother and said, "Wait, what?"
Stan cackled in response.
By all means, Ford should have seen it coming. His brother was a hero, one of the kindest, bravest men Ford knew—but he was also the man who couldn't be left alone in a pharmacy unless you wanted him to smuggle ten tubes of dental paste inside his coat. He was the kind of idiot who would grin and laugh at first sign of a real tavern brawl. He conned suckers and sweet-talked his way out of trouble on a daily basis; of course in a fabricated simulation he would continue to do the same.
The only thing that could stop him—Ford's only chance to safeguard his sanity—was the immutable law of the dice—and even that force seemed to forsake Ford more often than not.
This session had started like many others, with Stan haggling with some townspeople who wanted to hire the party to protect their village from kobold marauders. After scamming the poor villagers out of their hard-earned savings, they had veered off course while searching for the bandit camp, thanks to a fumbled survival check ("I knew I should have played a ranger!" Dipper had said, one eye twitching. "This party's optimization is a nightmare!") Instead, they stumbled on a cave, which was, according to Stan, as good a place as any for a kobold lair.
"You enter the cave with halting steps," Ford narrated to his party. "The cold and the damp seep into your bones, and the only light comes from your torches. You hear the noise of dripping water echoing in the distance. Still, you walk for a good hour without seeing anything but the shadows of the stalagmites around you."
"Spooky," Mabel said, grinning. "Wonder if the acoustics of the place are any good?"
"Please don't sing," Dipper said, in the tired voice of someone who'd already said that phrase a thousand times before.
"As you go deeper in," Ford continued, "you notice that the cave grows a bit larger. It's a bit of a relief, as the six of you were quite cramped before. But wait! Something else catches your eye, something hidden in the gloom surrounding you…"
"A cave bear?" Soos said.
"No, it doesn't even remotely—"
"Oh, oh!" said Mabel. "Is it a polar bear? Like, it's wandered far from home, and now he needs our help to find his way back!" Her eyes twinkled. "Through song."
"No, as I was saying—"
"It's a bunch of ropers, isn't it?" Dipper said, face going white. "Oh no, what if it's a purple worm o-or a Mind Flayer, please tell me it's not a Mind Flayer, I haven't prepared the necessary spells to deal with - "
"Maybe if we'd let Fordsie speak," Fidds said, "we'd know what it is."
Ford offered him a light bow. "Thank you, Fiddleford." He cleared his throat. "It's a statue, depicting a man mid-scream. It's also made of solid gold."
Stan looked like a kid who'd found a way to the cookie jar. "Seriously? Seriously?!"
"Yes. Behind it, you see what seemed to be an unlit lantern."
"I use my torch to light it," said Dipper.
"Now that there is more light," continued Ford, "you notice that there are other lanterns arranged in a circle. They surround a few strange, unmoving figures. Something about those figures unsettles you, though you cannot tell exactly what..."
The party lit up the rest of the lanterns (save for Stan, who was pondering a way to drag the gold statue out of the cavern). Once they were done, Ford explained that they had arrived at a large circular space, one that would have been a dead end if not for a pair of large stone doors. The figures, it turned out, were more gold statues of varying shapes and sizes. Beasts and people alike were forever frozen in expressions of fear and pain. At their feet, various objects made of gold were littered about—weapons, a few vases, even a violin.
"Uh, guys?" Dipper asked. "Did we… did we stumble into a dragon's hoard?"
"Who cares?!" Stan said, laughing in delight. "C'mon, we gotta find a way to carry all of this outside—"
"While you speak," Ford interrupted him, "the great doors begin to open, breaking the solemn silence with the great rumble of stone against stone. You see the silhouette of an elven man within. His purple robes are ostentatious, as is the golden, jewel-encrusted necklace hanging from his neck. At the sight of you, the man smiles and says, 'Well met, travellers, my name is—' wait, what is his name again?" Ford rummaged through his notes.
"Barry?" Mabel helpfully supplied.
"No, he's an elven wizard, he can't be named Barry," Ford muttered. "Ah! There it is!" He cleared his throat, adopting a highbrow accent. "'You may call me Jaroel, once the court mage of—"
"Magic Barry, then?" Stan interrupted. "Since he's a wizard 'n all."
"Fine by me!" said Soos, while Wendy shrugged. Mabel gave Stan the thumbs' up. Dipper only sighed before jamming his hat tighter on his head.
Ford cleared his throat again, throwing a peeved glance at Stan. The latter nonchalantly inspected his nails. "As I was saying, the man announces that he once used to be a court mage, but that circumstances forced him away from civilization."
"Circumstances?" Dipper frowned. "What circumstances?"
"'Well,' he says, 'it's a tragic tale, truly—'"
"Yeah, so," Stan said, interrupting Ford. "I walk up to the guy and say, 'Hey! Hand us over that necklace and we'll be on our way, no questions asked.' Uh, so gotta do a persuasion roll, right?"
Ford nearly chucked an empty can of soda at his head. Instead, he clasped his hands together and said icily, "Oh, yes. Do try to persuade him."
"Oh, hey, whaddya know… a natural twenty!"
"What?!" Ford checked his brother's tray. It was indeed a twenty. The damned piece of plastic seemed to be openly taunting him.
"So… does he give me what I asked or not? I ain't gettin' younger here."
"He laughs before throwing the necklace in your face," Ford said. He wondered if Stan was shrewd enough to probe the wizard's intent through an insight check.
"Heh," Stan said instead. "What a dumbass. I put it on."
Ford nearly laughed out loud. "You… put it on?"
"Oh, no," said Dipper.
"Yep. What, is it, like, 'repeat after your twin' day?"
"Good," Ford only responded. "You put it on. You now have a necklace."
"A gold chain," Stan specified. "'Cause necklaces, uh, aren't 'xactly manly."
Ford rolled his eyes. "A gold chain, then. Jaroel seems amused to see it around your neck. 'A fine evening to you gents and ladies,' he says, before disappearing in the swish of his cape."
"Hah! What a sucker!"
Beside Stan, Dipper was rubbing his temples, sighing. Ford met Fidds' eyes; from his expression, it was evident that he suspected that something was up. It was also clear as day that Fidds found the entire thing hilarious.
Ford mirrored his smile, before turning to his brother. "Oh, what's this? You feel faint suddenly, and the world spins around you. Stan, you take…" Ford rolled the dice. "Five points of damage."
"What?! The he—heck's going—"
"Also your knife has turned into solid gold."
Ford's words were followed by a stunned silence. Everyone stared at Stan, their faces showing varying shades of horror. Stan, however, had the wide-eyed look and grin that tended to prompt alarm sounds in Ford's mind.
"That's why there were so many weird things made of gold in this stupid cave," Dipper said. "Guy had the Midas touch. And now he's just dropped this curse into our laps!"
"Nice!" Stan said. "And here I was thinking we were short on money!"
"But Mr. Pines," said Soos, "the necklace—I mean, the gold chain, it hurt you!"
"Eh." Stan waved his hand around. "'s fine. Everything's fine. I'm tough enough to deal with a stupid cursed neck—gold chain."
The others tried to persuade him to remove the cursed object, to no avail. Ford hid a smirk behind his steepled hands. Stan felt smug now, but how long would that last?
Three ruined local economies later, Ford was starting to wonder if he'd once again made a grave miscalculation.
The party's net worth now totalled in the tens of thousands of GP. Most of Stan's fortune had been made by selling articles of clothing he'd inadvertently turned to gold (he'd gone through an alarming number of gloves, for one). Still, as long as Mabel or Soos could heal him, Stan simply refused to remove his cursed necklace.
The advancement of the main quest had grinded to a halt. Ford was seriously considering having his villain destroy the world out of spite while the party idled from town to town, selling the fruits of Stan's so-called 'labour'. Still, that wouldn't have been fair for the five other players who didn't seem determined to push Ford's patience to its limit, would it?
So Ford instead grit his teeth, waiting for the perfect moment to teach his brother the truly life-changing lesson that actions had consequences.
Tonight, Ford's players were travelling through a forest, hoping to reach a bigger town—and thus, a bigger market—somewhere near the coast. Along the way, bandits sprang an ambush on the party. Between Dipper's spells, Soos' hammer and Wendy's axe, the ruffians stood no chance. Still, one of them managed a lucky hit with his crossbow, hitting Stan in the shoulder. In retaliation, Mabel unleashed a slew of insults ("Your choice in career is whack! Your mother would cry all the tears if she knew!"), knocking the man out with one of her bardic cantrips.
"Stan, you took…" Ford rolled his dice. "Five points of piercing damage."
"Aw, sh—nuts," said Stan. "I move to remove the bolt."
"As your hand wraps around the bolt, you feel a tingling in your arm. Your vision blurs for a moment, and pain—cold, piercing, but now familiar— shoots through your body." Ford looked at Stan over his Dungeon Master's screen. "You manage to remove the bolt, but you take fourteen points of additional damage. The bolt in your hand has also turned to gold."
"Seriously? What a pain… that's nearly all of my health gone in one swoop..." Stan smirked. "At least it's for a good cause, huh?"
"I move to heal him!" said Mabel. "So, let's see… I manage to heal eight points of damage!"
"I'll heal the rest!" said Soos. "I've got ten on my roll."
"Actually," Ford said, "the two of you only manage to heal the wound caused by the crossbow bolt. Stanley, you still have those fourteen points of damage brought about by the curse."
Stan's dumb grin froze. "I'm sorry, what?"
"The pain you feel... it's not been diffused by your companions' healing spells. It's still there, gnawing at your bones—"
"Okay, okay," Stan said. "I've got more than half my health gone, what do I do?"
Ford gave him an expression worn by Dungeons Masters everywhere—the sadistic grin used to denote that this was only the beginning. "I don't know, Stanley. What should you do, indeed…"
"We should remove the necklace," Dipper said. "I bet the curse is starting to grow."
Stan let out a bark of laughter. "C'mon, kiddo, you hafta live on the edge to make it big, y'know? I'll be fine. I always manage to find my way outta trouble."
"Ugh." Wendy rolled her eyes. "I rip it off his stupid neck."
"What?! You little—"
"You tug on the necklace," Ford told Wendy, "as hard as you can. Despite the formidable strength at your disposal, nothing happens. It simply won't budge."
"Huh. It's just stuck there?"
Stan leaned back into his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. "Well, whaddya know?"
"Yes. Whatever force is keeping it around Stan's neck, well… it surely has a supernatural edge to it, though you cannot say what it is exactly."
"Is it evil?" Soos said. "I've got, like, holy powers and stuff, maybe I can remove it, right, Mr. Pines?"
Dipper snapped his fingers. "A holy ritual! L-Like a Remove Curse spell, or something. Yes, that would work!"
"You have a hunch that a holy ritual could remove it," said Ford. "However, are you powerful enough to pull off such a thing? Who's to say?"
"Let's go to a city and find a temple," Dipper said. "I have a bad feeling about that curse…"
"Pff!" Stan ruffled Dipper's hair, making the boy scowl. "I told you there's no reason to worry, squirt. C'mon, let's see if those bandits have anything to loot."
The bandits, being low-level ruffians, had nothing of interest on their persons, to Stan's great frustration. The party continued their journey, stopping to set up camp just outside of the forest.
"When you wake up the next morning," Ford narrated, "the air is crisp and fresh. The sky is pure blue, and you spy a few cottony clouds hanging above your heads. It will be a beautiful day, and all of you feel rejuvenated by your nap under the stars." Ford's mouth formed a smirk. "All of you… save for Stanley. You still haven't healed from the psychic wounds caused by the curse."
Mabel gasped. "Oh no! Dipper's right! We gotta find a way to remove your necklace!"
"Gold chain," Stan corrected with a forced cough. "It's a gold chain. An' I don't see what's the problem, really. You kids are overreacting. C'mon, let's go to that town so I can wreck another econo—I mean, sell more of our junk."
With decidedly less enthusiasm than before, the party set out, following the main road. Soon, they came upon a bridge, one that crossed a large, raging river.
"You see a large figure in the middle of the stone structure," Ford said. "A chill goes down your spine as you realize what it is, exactly. It's a troll, one who seems utterly bored out of his skull. After catching sight of you, the troll says..." He deepened his voice, making Mabel giggle in the process, "'Travellers want to pass, travellers must pay toll. Or it's cold bath in the river for you.'"
"A toll?" said Stan. "Yeah, right. Like I'm going to part with my cash after everythin' I've gone through to get it."
"The troll stomps his way toward you, flinging his club over his shoulder. With a booming laugh, he says, 'Cold bath it is, good to wash filthy humans!'" Ford paused, looking at each face in turn. "It's time for a battle. Roll for initiative, everyone."
To Ford's great lack of surprise, Stan was first in the order of operation. His twin tended to get the best dice rolls in all of the party, and he was blessed with a suspicious amount of natural twenties. When Ford had commented on Stan's unusual luck, the latter had just grinned and said, "Heh. What can I say? The universe does love me sometimes."
"Right," Ford said, narrowing his eyes at his twin. Stan looked smug; of course he did, the bastard. "What are you going to do, Stanley?"
"Easy," Stan said. "I put on a big, dumb grin, walk up to the guy… and grab his arm with my bare hands."
Dipper's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Wait… wait, wait, wait…"
Mabel gasped, putting her hands over her cheeks. "No! Don't do that!"
"It's too late," Ford said, sternly. "Stanley, you see the troll's skin starts to turn to gold under your fingertips. At the same time, you are hit with the familiar flash of pain, and you feel your body begin to shut down. You do not see it, but the troll is panicking. He tries to wrestle himself from your weakening grip, in an attempt to stop the curse from spreading. He only manages to send you both careening toward the river."
"No!" cried Soos. "I jump after them to save Mr. Pines!"
Poor Soos, for all of his good intentions, had completely forgotten that his character was clad in heavy armour. In the end, Wendy had to drag them both from the bottom of the river, grumbling all the while.
"Soos, you wake up hacking your lungs out," Ford said. "Stanley, you… well, Stan doesn't wake up, actually."
At first, there was only a heavy silence. Then, as expected, Soos and the twins were lost in a series of panicked babbles. Stan just raised his eyebrows, saying a simple, "Huh."
"I knew we had to get rid of that stupid necklace, I knew it," Dipper said, tugging at his hat, "but, of course, you ignored me! Why does no one ever listen to me?!"
"Calm down, kiddo, calm down!" Stan said. "Let's think about it before we do somethin' hasty, huh?"
"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel said in a huff. "What's more important, gold or your life?"
Stan burst into laughter. "What, s'that a trick question? Even in real life I'd be considering—"
"Don't you dare complete that sentence, Stanley Pines," Ford warned, voice cold as ice.
"Yeah! None of that talk, mister!" Mabel exclaimed, getting out of her chair and jabbing an accusing finger at Stan. "In this house, we love and cherish Stanley Pines!"
Soos jumped out of his seat as well, mimicking Mabel's motion. "Da—darn straight!"
"Oh, he—heck," Stan said, in a deliberately nonchalant tone. "Y'all sound like you're quoting somethin' from a bad self-help book…" Still, Ford could see him turning his face away, possibly to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. "I'm, uh, I'm going to the kitchen to make more coffee..."
And he left the table before anyone could place another word. An awkward silence hung over the living room. Eventually, Ford excused himself from the table, following Stan to the kitchen.
His brother was standing near the coffee machine, watching the pot being filled with their drug of choice. Stan's gaze was a bit blank, showing that he was deep in thought.
"Stan?" Ford prompted.
"Whoa!" Stan startled a little. "Didja have to sneak up on me?"
Ford smiled. "Seems like I've managed a good stealth check."
"Ugh." Stan removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm starting to understand stupid nerd jokes. I'm doomed."
"What is it that you called me, once? World's nerdiest old man? You were doomed from the moment you were stuck with me. Thus, you were doomed from the beginning."
Stan muttered a four-letter word he never said in the presence of the children. "Something's wrong, Poindexter? I know how you and Guck take your coffee. Ya didn't need to—" Stan's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, wait, you came here 'cause you're worried 'bout me?"
Ford shrugged. "I guess I'm a little transparent."
"Sixer, it's just a dumb little game," Stan said with a laugh. "I don't care if my guy dies 'cause he's a moron. If anything, it makes things funnier!"
"The kids didn't see it that way," Ford said, sombrely.
"Oh." Stan grimaced. "Oh. Yeesh…"
"Yes," said Ford. "Yeesh."
"Aw, sh—shucks." Stan scratched the back of his head, all of his smug posturing gone. "Didn't realize they would take it that way. So, what should we do?"
"I'll find a way for your character to survive and make it work. Somehow."
"And I'll try, uh, to be less of a dumbass going forward, I guess..."
"You'll try to be less of a dumbass?" Ford quirked an eyebrow. "Why not allow me some dignity and stop completely?"
Stan grinned. "C'mon. It's just too fun messing with ya. You can't take that away from me, you just can't."
Ford sighed the long-suffering sigh known to everyone who had been born with a sibling. "Right. Should we head back, then?"
"Yep." Stan chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh man, Soos tried to swear. That kid, I tell you… he's convinced his grandma is going to spring out of nowhere to wag her finger at him if he ever says a bad word."
"I'm glad he's immune to your influence on that level, at least."
Stan laughed out loud as they entered the living room. The twins' expression of worry gave way to relief as they saw the grin on Stan's face.
Stan put a mug of coffee in front of Fidds. "There you go, Guck. Cream and sugar, jus' the way you like."
"Why, thank ya kindly, Stansie."
Ford sat down with his own cup. "So, where were we?"
Mabel jabbed an accusing finger toward Stan. "He was being stubborn and annoying!"
"Who, me?" Stan mussed up her hair. "Being stubborn and annoying is what I do best, pumpkin!" His stupid grin grew into something as sweet as he added, "But, yeah, maybe I need to take it down a notch. Let's get rid of that stupid necklace. Y'know, before I start to devalue the value of gold too much."
Dipper sighed. "Finally." Meanwhile, his sister was rolling her eyes in a good-natured manner. Still, she was smiling. Clearly, all was forgiven.
"I use my last healing spell on him!" Soos said. His lower lip wobbled a little as he added, "Does he, uh, does he wake up?"
"He does, actually," said Ford. "With only one hit point to his name. Stan, you feel like a stiff breeze could finish you off."
"Oh, I'm so glad you're alright!" Mabel said. "Time for a hug pile! C'mon, all together now!"
Stan held up his hands. "Hey, wait—"
"Stan, you find yourself swarmed by your companions." Ford paused. "They're, uh, a bit heavy, however, and you start to choke under their weight…"
"Hey!" Stan croaked. "A little space, here? I haven't survived all of this crap only to be killed by my own sidekicks!"
Mabel and Soos laughed. Dipper shot his uncle a look of outrage, muttering something about being no one's sidekick.
"But, uh," Stan said, "before we go an' all… anyone wants to try to drag that troll statue from the bottom of the river?"
