Greetings Sir R-----! I trust that I find you in good spirit? Will you join me in a draught of this rather fine Cognac and perchance some sporting diversion?

Good man!

I propose a game that ever puts me in mind of an adventure of mine in the town of Bağçasaray, where I was posted after General Lacy had driven Khan Fetih Giray out from therein. I had received word that the Khan was anxious to retake the town and been given orders to hold it at all costs.

Why, you look chilled to the bone Sir R-----! Come sit by the hearth and warm yourself whilst I fetch you a medicinal glass of brandy.
To your very good health sir! Will you join me in a wager whilst you recover?

Good show!

I propose a game that I learned upon the banks of the river Styx whilst my fellow travellers and I were waiting for the ferry. This being the third time that I had died, I was quite accustomed to the appalling service quality of the Hadean public transport system and so was most appreciative of a little sport to pass the time.

Sir R-----! Might I presume that you are of a mood for a glass and a wager?

Good fellow! Stout fellow! Come join me in a draught!

I suggest a game oft played in the fair land of Lyonesse which, contrary to historical record, has not forever sunk beneath the waves, but has rather through some oversight been quite forgot in all our atlases.
I had been invited to banquet with the King of that fair and fecund realm, but arrived to find his court in disarray; the Queen had been stolen away by the foul Lord Maleagant! Naturally, I immediately put myself at my host's disposal and set off to rescue his fair bride.

Sir R-----, my fine fellow, it does my heart good to see you upon this summer's eve! Will you take a glass of muscatel and, perchance, a wager?

As I should have expected, you have not disappointed me sir!

Might I propose a game native to the Isle of Cockaigne, that land of plenty where the fountains run with this elixir, where the vintners string up their vines with sausages and where, whensoever it rains, it rains gravy?

Hail and well met Sir R-----! As ever, it is my very great pleasure to invite you to join me in a glass of restorative spirits and perhaps a little sport.
Why you seem pained my friend; what ails you?

Your back, you say?

It so happens that I have in my possession a quantity of snake oil liniment prepared by the master apothecaries of the South Sea Floating City, of which I can vouchsafe efficacy.

Greetings Sir R-----, come warm your bones at my table by the hearth and join me in a glass of brandy! I trust that winter's chill has not cooled your ardour for wager?

Good fellow! Splendid fellow!

I have in mind a game much played by the short statured, excessively hairy and nature obsessed folk of the Wimbledon commune, whose encampment I chanced upon whilst taking a morning constitutional some several years ago. I was drawn to it by a rather odd smell in the air, which I subsequently discovered to emanate from a peculiar blend of tobacco that they were especially fond of; a blend quite inferior to the Russian I can tell you!

Salutations, Sir R-----! Might I presume that a glass of warming spirit might kindle your passion for wager upon this chill winter's night?

It shames me to have doubted it sir, it shames me to have doubted it!

As you will have no doubt read in the popular press, I was recently ordained as the Metropolitan of Moscow. Less well reported is that this was done at the request of the Empress so as to facilitate trade negotiations with the fervently religious, and perplexingly geriatric, peoples of Sedna; an extremely distant and relatively small territory entirely governed by its priesthood.

Hallo Sir R-----! Come take a seat and slake your thirst this warm evening with a draught of cider!
Might I presume that you also thirst for a wager?

Then I have just the thing in mind sir!

I recently attended a banquet at castle Gormenghast, the familial seat of the Groans, a noble family, if perhaps a little overly obsessed with tradition and ritual. It having been the occasion of a Saturnal syzygy of Mercury and Venus, and a Thursday at that, before the feast could commence the Lord and Lady of the house, together with their son and heir, insisted upon following the tradition dictated for just such circumstances by performing the Last Stand, a ritual dance in which each took turn to stand in their place whilst the others exchanged theirs and which would cease upon their each having stood in place once, and only once, at each station.

Sir R-----, my good man! Might I tempt you with a tankard of this most refreshing ale and, perchance, some small wager with which we might while away this fine spring evening?

Splendid fellow!

Might I suggest a game employed by the famously superstitious leporine subjects of the moon fairy Chang'e to test the luck of her generals? Oft set upon by ravenous Selenites tired of their predominantly mushroom based cuisine, they must decide upon which of the entrances to their warren that they should most heavily fortify. Not knowing at which of them an attack might take place, the element of luck is clearly of paramount importance and is tested by how successfully they might, in their game, place defensive troops so as to outnumber their attackers.

Salutations Sir R-----! I trust that this fine evening finds you in good mettle and, perchance, of a mind for a little sport to accompany our libations?

It gladdens me to hear it sir!

I propose a game based upon the curious literary tradition of the subterranean peoples of Triskelion. I once visited their land during the festival of Djenqon, when tradition dictates that they emerge from their dank underground lairs into the cold light of day, often elaborately costumed, and gather in communal halls to gorge themselves on savoury baked goods and sickly sweet drinks whilst regaling each other with the retelling of legends.