May The Fours Be With You – baron m.

baron m. from thus spake a.k.

Sir R-----! Come join me for a glass of chilled wine! I have a notion that you're in the mood for a wager. What say you?

I knew it!

I have in mind a game of dice that reminds me of my time as the Russian military attaché to the city state of Coruscant and its territories during the traitorous popular uprising fomented by the blasphemous teachings of a fundamentalist religious sect known as the Jedi.

Fruitful Opals – baron m.

baron m. from thus spake a.k.

Greetings Sir R-----. I trust that I find you in good spirits this evening? Will you take a glass of this excellent porter and join me in a little sport?

Splendid!

I propose a game that is popular amongst Antipodean opal scavengers as a means to improve their skill at guesswork.
Opals, as any reputable botanist will confirm, are the seeds of the majestic opal tree which grows in some abundance atop the vast monoliths of that region. Its mouth-watering fruits are greatly enjoyed by the Titans on those occasions when, attracted by its entirely confused seasons, they choose to winter thereabouts.

Two By Two – baron m.

baron m. from thus spake a.k.

Hello there Sir R-----! Come join me by the hearth for a dram of warming spirits! I trust that this cold spell has not chilled your desire for a wager?

Good man! Good man!

I must say that the contrast between the warmth of this fire and the frost outside brings most vividly to my mind an occasion during my tenure as the Empress's ambassador to the land of Oz; specifically the time that I attended King Quadling Rex's winter masked ball during which his southern palace was overrun by an infestation of Snobbles!

The Octogram Of Seth LaPod – baron m.

baron m. from thus spake a.k.

Salutations Sir R-----! I trust that this fine summer weather has you thirsting for a flagon. And perhaps a wager?

Splendid! Come join me at my table!

I propose a game played as a religious observance by the parishioners of the United Reformed Eighth-day Adventist Church of Cthulhu, the eldritch octopus god that lies dead but dreaming in the drowned city of Hampton-on-Sea.
Several years ago, the Empress directed me to pose as a peasant and infiltrate their temple of Fhtagn in the sleepy village of Saint Reatham on the Hill when it was discovered that Bishop Derleth Miskatonic had been directing his congregation to purchase vast tracts of land in the Ukraine and gift them to the church in return for the promise of being spared when Cthulhu finally wakes and devours mankind.

The Hydra Of Argos – baron m.

baron m. from thus spake a.k.

Ho there Sir R-----! Will you join me for a cold tankard of ale to refresh yourself on this warm spring evening?

And, might I hope, for a little sport?

I should not have doubted it for a moment sir!

This fine weather reminds me of the time I spent as the Empress's trade envoy to the market city of Argos, famed almost as much for the remarkable, if somewhat fragile, mechanical contraptions made by its artificers and the most reasonably priced jewellery sold by its goldsmiths as for its fashion for tiny writing implements.

Pennies From Heaven – baron m.

baron m. from thus spake a.k.

Sir R-----, my good friend! Come shake the snow from your boots and join me by the hearth for a draught of warming spirits!

And will you also join me in a wager whilst you let the fire chase the chill from your bones?

Fine fellow! Stout fellow!

I have in mind a game that reminds me of my raid upon the vault of Heaven, which I mounted in order to make amends to the Empress for my failure to snatch the Amulet of Yendor from the inner circle of Hell.

Onwards And Downwards – baron m.

baron m. from thus spake a.k.

Greetings Sir R-----! Might I suggest that you take one of these spiced beef pies and a mug of mulled cider to stave off this winter chill? And perhaps a wager to fire the blood?

Good man! Good man!

I propose a game that ever puts me in mind of my ill-fated expedition to recover for the glory of the Empress of Russia the priceless Amulet of Yendor from the very depths of Hell.

The Rich Get Richer – baron m.

baron m. from thus spake a.k.

Sir R-----! I must say that it is a relief to have the company of a fellow nobleman in these distressing times. That I have had to sell not one, but two of my several hundred antiquities to settle the burden of tax that this oppressive democracy has put upon me, simply to enrich slugabeds I might add, is quite intolerable!

Come, let us drown our sorrows whilst we still have the means to do so and engage in a little sport to raise our spirits.

I have a fancy for a game that I used to play when I was the Russian ambassador to the Rose Tree Valley commune. Founded by the philosopher queen Zway Remington as a haven for downtrodden wealthy industrialists, it was the purest of pure meritocracies; no handouts to the idle labouring classes there!

Blockade – baron m.

baron m. from thus spake a.k.

Good heavens Sir R----- you look quite pallid! Come take a seat and let me fetch you a measure of rum to restore your humors.
To further improve your sanguinity might I suggest a small wager?

Splendid fellow!

I have in mind a game invented to commemorate my successfully quashing the Caribbean zombie uprising some few several years ago. Now, as I'm sure you well know, zombies have ever been a persistent, if sporadic, scourge of those islands. On that occasion, however, there arose a formidable leader from amongst their number; the zombie Lord J------ the Insensate.

Quaker’s Dozen – baron m.

baron m. from thus spake a.k.

Sir R-----, my fine friend! The coming of spring always puts one in excellent spirits, do you not find? Speaking of which, come join me in a glass of this particularly peaty whiskey with which we might toast her imminent arrival!

Might I tempt you with a little sport to quicken the blood still further?

It lifts my soul to hear it Sir!

I have in mind a game that I learned when in passage to the new world with a company of twelve Quakers. I was not especially relishing the prospect of yet another monotonous transatlantic crossing and so you can imagine my relief when I spied the boisterous party embarking, dressed in the finest silks and satins and singing a bawdy tavern ballad as they took turns at a bottle of what looked like a very fine brandy indeed!