Editing Four of Hearts

Aye, I'll tell ya 'bout the Four o' Hearts. What do they call it again? Ah yes, the Thirteen Cursed. I've seen a man hold them once. Oh, it was ages ago now. Haven't seen it since. Anyways, it was twenty-odd years ago, when I was a younger man. I lived in a small village down south. And as in any village that small, there was nothin'. I ran a bar that was the only thing that made money there. Well one day this feller comes to town. Big guy, scraggly beard. He stayed a few days, resting up. His horse got wounded. Said it was them Injuns shootin' at 'im. He payed and I gave 'im a room, food, drink.

Three days later another feller comes into town. A sheriff this time, an' he was lookin' for our mystery man. Well, the man was just out back when he saw 'im, and, faster than the eye could see, he drew his gun. The sheriff drew 'is, but the bandito shot it. Shattered it right to pieces, and took half the sheriff's hand.

I was there, an' of course I dived behind the bar as the sheriff joined me. No gun and getting shot at. The bandito yelled somethin', can't even remember what. The sheriff smiled at me as if he was enjoyin' this whole thing. Asked me if I got a gun. I pointed at the shotgun underneath the bar counter. Not that it was gonna do much good. I had two slugs, was all. Well the sheriff took the gun, and a bullet from his shattered gun flew into his hand. As he loaded it I saw it change, I swear to God it did. And I saw a Four o' Hearts in the bullet. He grinned at me again and shot into the air. Few seconds later the shots from the bandito stopped and he was dead.

Well the sheriff got stitched up. Didn' feel a thing, I tell ya. Just kept slugging back them shots as the doc fixed 'is hand best he could. Well as he got drunk he told me about the Four of Hearts.

Years ago, when he too was younger, he almost got killed in a shootout. Four banditos against lil' ol' 'im. When he was there a man appeared. He said he couldn't remember 'is face. What he did remember was that the man gave 'im thirteen bullets, all with a Four o' Hearts on them. Turns out not all Cards were guns. This one was thirteen bullets. Whenever he was in a bad situation, they came to 'im, no matter how far away they were, or what gun he was usin'. Though the man who gave 'im the bullets warned that the last would kill 'im. And turns out, that shot was numero twelve. He left the last bullet with me, hopin' it wouldn't come to 'im. I kept it behind the bar, showing it off.

Years later, the sheriff returns to town. He was searching for a man again'. Saw the bullet and smiled. Didn' kill 'im yet. That night, however, a few fellers got drunk and started boasting. One o' them, can't remember 'is name, took the Four, loaded it, an' pointed at another man. Well, by bad luck, the gun misfired, shot right through the shooter's hand and into the sheriff who was comin' to see what was wrong.

Aye, the Thirteen Cursed will let ya shoot any twelve bastards ya want. But no matter how much later, the last will always kill ya.

{{Template:Wild_cards}}