Grim Bucko pops out of a tiny wormhole, mini machine-gun at the ready, oddly reminiscent of a original Doom era bad-ass. Hovering above him, an Iphone-like device ping-pings furiously while emitting violent iridescent light flashes.
And the Iphone cries in a tiny voice:
"It's here, boss ! It's here !"
Grim Bucko aims his BFG at the screaming Tirq.
"Hey you, with the hair ! Did you see where the Chaos witch went ?"
"She tried to lure me in that other thread, but her logic shredding device was ill-suited to that other reality, and the locals alerted me to her little scheme."
Grim Bucko glares at Tirq who is staring at him with uncomprehending blinking wild eyes.
"In other words: they don't eat apples sideways there - they only know BANANAS !..."
"Say... with your hair... are you sure you're not yourself an unwilling victim of the forces of disorder ?"
The little Swamsunganokiapple device pings in staccato fashion.
"Boss, I got really weird readings from Kojakovich de Gnome in this here thread !"
"Never mind. The locals seem as smart as kelp here, and the witch's gone. The probability spikes seem to subsidize. I think this thread will go back to "normal". Let's warp out of here. But before that..."
The Grim Bucko extracts from his backpack a complicated photonic device, which he manipulates expertly, before putting it on (notional) floor of the thread.
With a humming sound, the device wavers, and then reassembles in the form of a... banana.
"There. Camouflaged warning device readied. That should warn us if the reality deviant reappears. And it's cleverly obfuscated to blend along his/her/its proto-glorp Erisian chaos inducing device (the apple). Am I not grand ?"
"You are teh Man, boss !" gushes the Zeissoblaupunksoftish levitating device.
"Shut up, Bob. That was a rethorical question."
A tiny itsy-bitsy wormhole gobbles up Grim Bucko and Bob, and all is quiet anew in the thread.
And thus began the Vicious Chicken of Bristol's reign of terror. The peasantry quaked in fear as the chicken flapped his dread wings, pecking people in the face. Brave knights from all over the land came to stop the chicken, but they all wore green and had handlebar mustaches. Verily, the chicken was unopposed and brought misery to the countryside and the thatched roof cottages.
A scintillating un-door expels a tiny floating device with a fluctuating screen, roughly the size of an antique 21st century smartphone.
"I could have sworn I had felt a disturbance in the force grid..."
"Eeep !" screams Bob in a shrill voice as Quiche Lisp tries to swat him out of the air.
And, almost instantaneously, the un-door absorbs back the hovering talky mechanism and winks out of existence with him.
An infinitesimal speck of shiny nothingness blossoms into a tangible tiny hovering vamash-mechanical device.
"He, this sounds fun ! I win !"
A probe of green light emanates from Bob, which absent-mindedly scans the surrounding environment.
"He, where's the banana ? There should be a banana here !"
An ominous buzzing sound begins to grow in the background.
Suddenly, Bob is surrounded by an intense electrical discharge, arcing all around the smartphone-like gagdget vamash-lifeform.
"BZKT ! No... Tesla coil force-field...ZAPPKT ! Heeelp...urggg !"
With a pitiful-sounding "bamf" Bob disappears from the local reality grid.
With a most unceremonial "BURP", a carboard panel is ejected from the ambiant air.
On its drab surface, one can read :
From Otherspace, Grim Bucko punches through the fragile veil of reality, tearing it apart with an horrifying shrieking sound.
"I detected the sudden collapse of the Tesla coil field, you witch ! IT'S CAUSALITY'S PAYBACK TIME ! EAT THIS !"
A semi-sentient missile launches itself from the BFC (Big F&*$ing Cannon) mounted on Grim Bucko's shoulder, and closes on Ensirio at supersonic speed, its holographic projector painting the Erisian witch with a series of physics and mathematics equations calculated to soften the chaotic target before impact.
"SUBMIT ! SUBMIT !"
Bob materializes in the wake of Grim Bucko's forced entry into the local reality grid.
Seeing as his boss is presently occupied, the tiny device surreptitiously produces a billboard from a pocket dimension.
On the surface of the billboard, painted in garish red letters, one can read.
"I WON ! .... but don't tell my boss: he thinks I'm a tool."
In order to bring back...er...order to this thread, the Vorpal Bunnies are unleashed. TVCoB perches in his evil lair which looks like Castle Greyskull on a mountain and watches the situation develop.
"Go, my minions! And bring me back a shrubbery! Oh, and leave that Tesla fellow alone, I still need him."
Grim Bucko, anti-duck zealot wrote:
Uncomfortably cornered, the Longstrider has only one option - reach into her Pocketses and see what comes out.
1d100 ⇒ 13
Ensirio retrieves a humming black stone inscribed with a five-pointed, multicolored star on its flat edge.
"Awwww, Tyche loves me! She really does!"
As the missile closes in, Ensirio smashes the Unluck Stone against the coil in her hair, cracking it open like an egg and releasing the distilled misfortune inside. The sudden field of discordant energies mingles with the projected beacon of order and logic, creating a feedback loop of contrasting dissonance in the area. As the missile strikes home, the contrast suddenly collapses into a temporary illogic singularity, a swirling vortex of bad luck and miscalculated equations, before swirling into a black mist that spirals down like a miniature tornado into the stone then winks out of existence with a puff of green-black, sulfur-scented smoke.
Meanwhile, in another thread...