Rolled a 4

ROGUE: >diceroll< I rolled a 4. Is that good or bad?

DM: Depends on where you’re sitting, but it means four of your own clothing items get affected by the chime!

ROGUE, sputtering: Four?! > counts to herself < But that means…!

DM: One by one the buckles of your leather armor unfasten, your belt unbuckles in order to let your pants drop to the floor, and your shirt starts to unbutton. Not only that but your bra unclasps underneath the shirt, and before you know it, nearly all your clothes fall off your body. You frantically try to grasp at them but everything happens so suddenly you're left scrambling as the garments slip through your fingers, tumbling to the floor. The daggers in your belt fall to the ground with loud >clangs< which draw the attention of everybody in the tavern, and you find yourself facing an ocean of hungering eyes as your jiggling boobs come to a rest, your modesty protected by naught but a slender thong.

ROGUE: ”Agh, fuck!”

The Bard and sorcerer were laughing uproariously as the rogue player hemmed and hawed, frantically checking her character sheet for any special skills or reactions she might use to counter the effect. The fact she did this to herself added a special spice to the humiliation.

DM, cutting through the din: Everybody in the tavern is engrossed by the sight of your boobs, rogue, so what’s your next action?

ROGUE: Covering my boobs of course! I’ll pick up my clothes and make my way back to the others.

DM: Everyone watches as the rogue turns beet red and throws her arms across her exposed chest to cover herself, and then quickly bends down collect the rest of her clothes off the floor. You are **** to juggle keeping your clothes and weapons in your arms, keeping your chest covered, and hoisting your pants up from the ground. The barmaid watches the scene unfold, a mixture of surprise and amusement on her face. She smirks at you: ”Well, well, if this is what you wanted to talk to me about, you sure have an interesting way of getting my attention.”

ROGUE, embarrassed: I… mumble something inaudible and beat a hasty retreat to our table.

DM: You retreat to your table, though it’s not very hasty. With your arms preoccupied holding onto your wardrobe, weaponry and watermelons, you have to comically shuffle around the intervening tables with your pants around your ankles. On the way there you’re graced with a litany of catcalls and wolfwhistles, and adventurous hands that roam your thighs and give your butt a couple pinches or satisfying slaps. Eventually you make it back to the others and put your clothes back on.

SORCERER, snickering: Well, that sure backfired!

BARD: But it definitely didn't disappoint!

ROGUE, mumbling: Uhm... right, my character is currently busy buttoning her shirt back up, please proceed...