I have a novel idea. For our all hallow's eve celebrations, why don't the men dress in theme as people who understand basic grooming and appropriate coiffure?

Well, haven't we all been having a pleasant evening? Someone find Xaldin for me, as I am feeling quite left out and wish to indulge in this petty bickering you all have succumbed to.

Saix: I am in need of a new coverlet for my divan. Arrange this at once or I will be forced to conscript your (suddenly less charming) ward into service as my bosun until he has worked off his debt.

The stage is set as thus:

One (1) diminutive yet particularly driven capitalist set on reclaiming his loss and instructing his pupil

One (1) young yet fierce apprentice curious to learn the trick of stealing from Gamblers

Fifteen (15) carefully seeded Gamblers comprised of
- Eight (8) with no munny and automatic penalty games when triggered
- Four (4) with counterfeit munny and automatic penalty games when triggered
- Two (2) with genuine munny and automatic penalty games when triggered
- One (1) with genuine munny and no security measures

Each time a game commences, there is a 75% chance the player will be turned into a card.

Odds of success are as follows:
The moogle: 1:7
Roxas: 1:12
Both: 1:135

Blocks of time for individuals' failures are sold in 30 second windows for the first 10 minutes, 1 minute windows for the time after that. The price is 100 munny a block, with 80% to the correct bet.

Ah, there hasn't been a trial like this since XI!

To whomever has lost the purple feather boa:

It is currently in the possession of one of my Gamblers. Please contact me if you wish it to be returned or are interested in selling it. She has become quite enamored of the thing.

There comes a time in the melifluous tides of life, or death, or unlife as it were, when these tasks and trials in a veritable maelstrom of disquiet and strife affix themselves to our personage with draconian grip and will not give us leave to lead an unfettered life, or death, or unlife as it were, but with barbed words and treacherous protestations vis-à-vis the right and proper order of our unseemly universe which leads to mere chance and happenstance about which there can be little dubiety and yet much debate of the propriety of such acts and actions that may or may not lead to repercussions of dire effect and though the talk of just or unjust, right or unright, duty or mere deliverance, may very well allow conclusions of both a presumptuous and affected nature in such a convenient manner that those blinded as a cockatrice by its promised, elusive trove, shall stumble, instead, into pits of the greatest folly, and find the gold to be merely the reflection of Apollo's rays upon the water, and others, doubtful of the inordinately excessive promise, choose to do nothing, and so the gold shall gather dust a mere stone's throw away, so take care that these self-serving prophecies not be cast aside, for truth and conceit are sometimes kin, and Lady Fortune, in her mercurial whims, shall deign to reward those who serve themselves as often as not, and if for nought, then by serving others shall chances increase yet again, and so, by turns master and slave, both alpha and omega, shall both the sweet wine and the dregs be attained, and let the gold be bandied as it may.

To whomever stole my first edition prints of the Amano Dictionary and Thesaurus:

My ire is fierce, my retribution shall be swift, and your punishment will be [bad?][painful?][causing of much suffering?].

Blast it, what is wrong with these computing machines? My connection to my needed entrenet resources is [very slow].

And this is why I should never indulge myself for more than a single hour at a time. Since waking up this morning, I have been menaced by what appears to be a polar bear in my journal and I have found the castle overrun by carniverous Mooglesque creatures.

Vexen, if you wish to retrieve one of your creations, it is currently locked in the Room of Bodily Absolution. It is attempting to gnaw one of my Gamblers, but has yet to make it through the carapace. Do hurry, as I believe they are both running low on patience.

Whilst on my journey across the cursed seas, I came across a be-kohled pirate who had been abandoned on a deserted island. He swayed as though he were still on his ship, and he asked, "Why is the rum gone?"

Why is the rum gone?

I'll tell you why the rum is gone!

Come, friends, for tonight we celebrate!

Am I the only one who just saw that running negligee?

I have returned from my quest to liberate various effects from Captain Hook's trove, as the good captain and his crew are no longer in a position to rightly enjoy them, and I see that our numbers have increased to a full suit of 13, though our thirteenth seems a bit small to be a king. Tell me, XIII, are you ace, king, or merely a joker?

And is it just me, or has our leader gone completely barmy?

Backstory!
Name: Dulor
Game: Final Fantasy Tactics
Homeland: Ivalice
Occupation: Time Mage, Mediator subclass

Dulor was a Time Mage fighting for Ivalice in the 50 Years War. They won the war, and Dulor was thrilled for a few days before he realized that he was left unemployed and wondering how to support himself and his half dozen little sisters. Fortunately, new conflict broke out and he was hired by Ramza to be a part of his party. Things were going well, he was fighting for something he believed in, he was supplementing his income by hosting a little off-duty gambling ring, Ramza was talking to him about training to be a Calculator, and there was a cute White Mage who was really appreciating his poetry....

And then the Heartless invaded his world. When Luxord woke up, he found piercings in odd places and this weird fleshy thing in the middle of his face, but he also found that, while he still felt the urge to gamble and fight, he no longer cared about winning.

The varying trials and tribulations of time have woven their way through our weary world until by--fate? Mere happenstance?--we arrive at this point, together, in comradery or antipathy or simple apathy, but together, and I wonder: what are you to me, and I to you?

Also, poker game Wednesday. Xigbar, it's your turn to bring the munchies.