Five of Spades: Smoky Mountain

SUMMARY
Smoky Mountain is a large, good natured man from rural South Carolina. He joined the contest mistakenly, thinking it would be a cards game. To his great fortune, he always brings his shotgun to a card game. His accent, which some consider to be extremely annoying, conceals the doctorate degrees he has in Psychology, Physics, Ballistics, Engineering, and Chemistry.

Seriously, watch that shotgun. Smoky's greatest power is his enemies underestimation of his intelligence and power.

FLAVOR TEXT
"Aaaaah, jeezus christ awmighty, these idiots just don't give up their base, do they?" Smoky muttered, as projectiles whizzed past him. A grenade rolled around the corner, but Smoky was too fast for that. The butt end of his shotgun worked as a handy golf club. He gave it a half second, since these greenhorns wouldn't have cooked a grenade, and sent it clunking back around the corner. Six voices screamed together, then cut short with a bang.

"Dumb as mules, the lot of 'em." Smoky turned the corner, his gun as his hip, and waited for one of the lying figures to stir. When one did, he opened his eyes to two barrels in his face.

"Feel like telling where the 6 of Clubs is? I don't have a beef with you, but I must say you look pretty damn pitiful right now, I might feel the need to put you out of your misery and all. We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

The trapped club tried to reach for his grenade pin, but his arm stopped. There was a buck knife through his coat sleeve. "'Fraid not, friend. No tricks here. Where's 6?"