If there is one thing Cardsharp hates, it would be losing. He is the sorest loser in the west. Cheat him? He will retaliate with violence. Fair loss? He will also retaliate with violence. His reputation of flipping card tables and drawing on the spot precedes him wherever he goes, mainly because it's absolutely accurate. His temper is quick to flare and the barrels of his pistols tend to follow suit.

He has the ability to be charming, but usually doesn't bother. He has no interest in developing a gang or making friends and prefers to work and travel alone. As far as he's concerned, companions mean weak links and split profits, neither of which are of any appeal.

Youth

[WIP]

Accursed

Spring Bluffs turned out to be the place Cardsharp met his match at the tables. This came in the unassuming form of Miria Shaw, who absolutely rinsed the outlaw for all he had over the course of six games of poker. This led, as these things usually do, to the drawing of pistols from both parties - though admittedly Miria's was in defense. After a momentary standoff followed by a bit of a brawl, Miria escaped with the majority of her winnings, though not without Cardsharp giving chase. He managed to get a couple of shots off before his current horse reared, throwing him off and giving Miria the chance to slip away, albeit with a hole in her shoulder and some serious bruises. And usually that would be the end of the matter... But when you're the descendant of the ancient and mysterious shaman known only as Coyote, other forces can decide to meddle. Visited in a lucid dream or a waking nightmare, Cardsharp was dealt a truly terrifying hand, Coyote laying a curse upon him that would change him forever.

Vengance

This curse was passed off as nothing more than a drunken vision, nothing to be worried about. That was, until a few nights later when Cardsharp found himself at the losing end of another game and along with the flare of his temper came other things. Eyes darkening to pitch, the sprouting of extra limbs, the sharpening of teeth. All things that immediately branded him as a monster. This time, before Cardsharp could even reach for his holster, there were multiple shots fired at him from the bar, terrified barkeeps fortunately shaking to hard to aim well. Noting other patrons reaching for their weapons, the outlaw fled before the staff could even start reloading. He spent the next week in hiding, unable to revert back to his original form... However, this did give him time to think, slowly putting the pieces together. The shaman in his dreams, the hollistic witch he had shot just nights before... It couldn't be a coincidence. By the time he had regained control of his body, he had decided to find out more about her and plot his revenge.

• Surprisingly peculiar about his choice in suits, but especially his hat. Rarely ever seen without it.
• Wouldn't know loyalty even if it crawled up his leg and bit him in the ass.
• Has never kept a single horse for more than a week, he refuses to get attached to living things.
• He gave himself the nickname Cardsharp, he's really that full of himself.
• His secondary set of arms usually manifest with sleeves. He doesn't know how or why this happens, but he's relieved that he doesn't destroy his clothes every time it occurs.