The Loose Association of Wargamers

I think you are croissant a line here

I ain’t done muffin’ wrong.

In tonight’s show.... GM slaps LT, Norm drinks some blood and WWD wets himself slightly.

We begin our story tonight in media res. Our Brave Investigators recount all they have learnt to Captain Malon, however, given the seriousness of the crime, they have to journey to Versailles to fill in his superiors. They notice the bakery is now in flames and all the shops around are being looted. Etienne joins in.

The next day, casting off their working ground backgrounds, they journey to Versailles in a fine carriage whilst their countrymen starve around them. Though apparently they are not that starving as they manage to throw rotten vegetables and cow turds at our brave party as they drive past.

Arriving at Versailles, some of the more keen eyed in the party notice a white carriage with red trim. Claudine unbuttons her bodice and distracts the driver whilst Maxime rifles though the carriage. He notices what may be dried blood on the seat and a decanter of fine red wine. Nice earthy undertones with a hint of iron and salty bouquet.

As they enter Versailles, Robert sees an old flame and pumps her for information. It turns out that the Comte Fenlik is a bad man with an unwholesome influence over the Queen.

Meanwhile, inside Versailles, Claudine wishes to keep certain evidence that may, or may not incriminate the Queen from her Superiors. Etienne wishes to disclose it and is almost slapped for his troubles. They are then asked to investigate the Comtes estates at Poissy.

A ruckus breaks out as news spreads that the Dauphine is dead. As they reel from the shock, they meet Comte Fenlik himself. The meeting has an unsettling end for Robert.

Our Hero’s arrive in Poissy just before nightfall and receive a cold welcome. Bullshitting their way into the college, they learn the Comte, or his family, have a long history.

They then ineptly break in to the estate grounds whilst a ball is ongoing. Claudine sneaks around and sees a skinless pope, a man dressed as queen being whipped by a woman dressed as a king.

We leave our hero’s skulking in the bushes deciding what to do next...

Frankly, the somewhat grotesque and bizarre goings on at the ball would be considered a dull night at an Ayton weekend. Or at Purps' on a Thursday morning.

I’m sure I spotted the skinless pope in the back bar of the Forge once

What do you mean ‘ineptly break into’ - I was up that spiked wall like a rat up a trouser leg and I didn’t drop my carrot once.
Plus, new paints and brushes I like rioting me.

Superb name for a band. "Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for The Skinless Popes.

Knew a drummer in a club band who’d previously played with the ‘Burned Spifire Pilots’.

"a man dressed as queen being whipped by a woman dressed as a king"

Something new please! Everyone's done that a few times, but it palls after a while.

Yep. In a game of ‘never have I ever’ I’d still be sober.
Which is unforgivable.