It was a devilish plan, full of conceit and bad intentions. There would be mayhem and deviltry and feats of cunning and daring-do. The most conceited of all was our leader, a vain man, rotten in every gummed crack. Also, he was the most eloquent, even inspired, orator I had ever heard.
Foolishness was rife on the eve of the dauntless unblinking moonrise, staring baleful and reeking of antique madness.
Made of cheese? My goodness, what else?
Buckles were thoroughly swashed, flagons of ale quaffed, bodices burst with extravagant abandon, Chandelliers were swung upon, duels were flourished on mysterious staircases to nowhere.
The hapless guards? Comic relief.
A kaleidescope of sweaty hairy roaring humanity sloshing against a tide of naked thighs.