A couple of jerks wake me up at the crack of noon. Seems my klepto uncle stole an ancient deck of Tarot cards from a high-powered wizard, and too many losers want to ruin my day to get them back.
The cards are cool, so I check them out, but my magic-happy cousin, Sabrina, tells me I'm not supposed to touch them. Oops. Too late. Now the damn cards are tuned to me, and if someone else wants to use them, I have to die. Why couldn't she have led with that information?
Magic was never my scene, but my dad is one of the most powerful wizards in the world, so I've got unrealized potential if I ever bother to apply myself. I'd rather power nap, but with wizards, gunslingers, and cannibalistic shark dudes coming at me, that's not gonna happen.
They say I'm a half-assed wizard, but if I don't play my cards right, I'm gonna get my whole ass killed.
