Special Rules for Diamonds: Diamonds are allowed to talk or bribe their way out of doing their dare. The challenger has to decide if they were convincing or charming enough to get out of doing the dare. If there are other Diamonds nearby, you can call them to help you (and sway the jury).
Lysander, the Jack of Diamonds, is a peacock among dusty crows and rigid hawks. His presence is a symphony of studied flamboyance: a brocade jacket that gleams with each sly swivel of his hips, an emerald glinting from his earlobe, a smile that seems permanently arched. He carries himself with the careful poise of a dancer, each gesture deliberate, each word a provocation wrapped in velvet. In a game of brawny dares and physical challenges, this knave operates in a different arena.
His eyes, sharp beneath their veneer of languid charm, size up a challenger in seconds. A twitch of a lip, a slight hesitation in a response, the merest flicker in the way a hand rests on a pinned card – these are the tells Lysander devours. He is a cartographer of weakness, a connoisseur of hidden flaws.
To other players, he's a shimmering enigma. He challenges rarely, and when he does, the dare is less about spectacle and more often a cunningly worded trap. Yet, for all his practiced charm, a hint of unease lingers in Lysander's fixed smile. His intricate schemes, like a house of cards, are magnificent yet fragile, always a breath away from collapse in the shifting fortunes of the game. Lysander is a reminder that in the game of daring hearts, a subtle knife can leave deep wounds, but its user is never truly safe from the blade.