Ten of Clubs: 'Dogs of War'

From 1d4chan

"Here's how this is gonna go. You give us your slugtosser, and we won't kill ya!" The small group of braggarts laughed among themselves as they surrounded the lone man in the middle of the road, their horses clopping on the occasional stone.

"I don't think that's how this is going to turn out, boys." His tar-like growl made the group pause. "If you turn about and leave now, we can forget this ever happened. But if you don't... Well, you don't want to know."

"Pfft, yeah right. What're you, the Black Joker? Even if you are, we ain't scared of you!" The one in front of him was clearly the leader, dressed slightly better and holding an actual Smythe. He had to admit, not bad for a small band of idiotic highwaymen.

With a resigned sigh, he slowly slid the black, single-barreled shotgun off his back and into his waiting hands, the ten clubs etched into the top gleaming in the noon sun. "Just don't say I didn't warn ya, son."

Racking the Card in his hands, the howl of a hunting pack rang across the desert, causing the braggarts to swivel their heads in a panic as he took a deep breath. "Cry havoc, and let slip these Dogs of War!"

The first shot, aimed at the leader, rang out across the desert sands. The gang paused as the leader snorted in amusement, but before he could finish the first word out of his mouth, he was thrown off his horse, savage bite marks appearing all over him as they tore out flesh.

Another blast, this one into the air, followed by a third at the second in charge, his leg gone with a vicious tearing sound along with part of his horse's flank. "Oh Gods, mah leg!"

One of the younger gang members raised his slugtosser and fired wildly at the man, but all it did was make a wolf drop out of thin air, taking the bullets for him as he fired at the young gun, whose shoulder was torn out of its socket, followed by his throat as he died gurgling blood.

Three more shots, and the band of highwaymen was reduced to half of their number, quickly riding away into the distance as they screamed their fear to the sky and dirt.

"Serves them right." With a shake of his head, he moved quickly, grabbing the meager handfuls of ammunition and rations he could and stuffing his pockets to the brim with dead men's money.

The wounded wolf snarled, and the gent with the Card stood, stepping away from the bodies and sobbing man with a solemn bow. "Don't worry, the pack gets its share."

As the carnage faded into nothingness, the lone gent slowly holstered his Card, the seven tally marks on the back of his hand fading into faint scars. "I just hope I don't need the full pack..."

- Rakdos

Wild Cards
Spades: 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - J - Q - K - A
Hearts: 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - J - Q - K - A
Clubs: 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - J - Q - K - A
Diamonds: 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - J - Q - K - A
Jokers: Red Joker - Black Joker
Introduction - The World - Gameplay - Stories of the world
On the Attainment, Ownership and Passing of The Cards
Variant Rule: Hands