*plop* You hear a thick envelope landing in your mailbox, and, on inspection, find it has a strange smell... rather like death. After fetching some strong gloves, and opening it, you find the most elaborate invitation you have ever seen, all gilt edges, and gold-embossed lettering, with each letter softly singing as you read the words. "Treasured Citizen of Britannia, The arch Lich Igor, he of the somewhat dead, request the honour of your presence at his annual Shame Ball. Dress is casual. You are invited to come in your sleepware, and party with Lord Igor's elementals and other creatures […]