Samuel Graves and the Akemic Chronicles

Hammer Time!

“s**t!” Samuel yelled, throwing his hands up as the Trog barreled down on him. “Cog Barrier!”

The battle had been raging for a mere minute, but to the dreaming Texas teen? It felt like they’d been fighting for hours. The behemoth swinging the massive blade had leapt over the group and slammed down behind them, sweeping with his thick tail to kick up a blinding wave of disgusting water into the faces of Skelly and Needles before slamming the pommel of his weapon into Wheeze.

Now, as Wheeze puked his guts into the muck at his feet while struggling to stand, Needles and Samuel were forced to engage the creature in a dance of claws, teeth, and steel.

Between his hands sprang hundreds of interlocked cogs, spinning and whirring with the precision of a clockmaker on crack. The heavy blade slammed into them, grinding them to a stop. Growling, he doubled down and began forcing the blade into the conjured machine, the sound of screeching metal echoing across the chamber as the titanic monster growled behind it.

Samuel, feeling the force behind the blade sliding him back faster than he would like, grunted and narrowed his eyes. Looks like some of my skill selections are getting tested sooner than I would have liked! He thought before he bellowed. “Lesser Amplify!”

The cog barrier shimmered as he dumped more spell energy into it, the gears shining as they shifted from simple brass and bronze to high-quality iron. With a low whine, the barrier shifted and the gears snapped the weapon back as they began whirring and clicking to resume their spinning. The Trog was forced back, staggering from the force the barrier had pushed into him.

Needles leapt in from the side, his short sword’s tip skimming the water as he swung up to cut into the monster’s left thigh. Unlike any attackers in the various anime shows he’d seen, the man moved with utter silence, not shouting to warn the creature. It seemed to pay off, as the blade cut deep into the beast’s thigh, the wound gushing the foul blue blood he’d seen from the archer Elena had taken out earlier.

Unlike the archer who’d been felled by the stealthy assault, this Trog only cackled a demonic laughter at the wound as he spared a glance at Needles. “Cute ploy,” he grumbled, leaning onto his uninjured leg as he lazily swung the massive blade to his side. Needles rolled back, barely dodging the razor’s edge. “But if that’s all you can do, I think I’ll be feasting on manflesh by day’s end!”

Samuel would have responded but choked on his own words when it hit him full force. A stench unlike any he’d ever encountered, a veritable wall of odors that made him think of a mountain of rotting flesh and soiled diapers that had sat in the summer sun for the better part of a fortnight. His eyes watered and he felt bile rising in his throat, forcing him to pull one hand back to cover his nose to block out the horrible stink.

The Trog barked with laughter as Needles fell further back, losing his lunch into the waters below from the sudden olfactory assault. “What?” He drawled, shouldering his blade as he studied the adventurers with a feral grin. “Ya’ll lose your grit and fire from just my lovely musk coming round? I’m insulted!”

The creature, quick as lightning, spun and lashed out a kick with the clawed foot of his injured leg to punt Skelly back into Posnev, who’d been circling around while snarling. The twin-headed hounds yelped as their master bodily slammed into them bodily, both toppling into the shallow waters with a splash. A mixture of yelps and swearing filled the air, along with the massive lizard man’s booming laughter.

“How you got past the guards is beyond me!” He laughed, a visible mist leaving his body as he surveyed his opponents. “Guess they’ll need some more training! ‘Course, that’ll be long after ya’ll have passed from this realm!”

He pointed the double-handed blade with one massive claw at Wheeze, who was righting himself after emptying his stomach. “You look like the most dangerous one here, so what will it be ape-child? You going to fight and die like a man with pride, or do you want to go down with your hands on your knees puking up the last three meals you ate?”

Wheeze stood on unsteady legs, wiping the vomit from his chin before readying his blade. He gave a grim smile before he answered. “Alright then Scaly, let’s do this then!”

The two rushed at each other, weapons swinging to clang off each other with a raucous thunder cry of metal-on-metal. The Trog, beaning nearly three feet taller than the warrior, had greater reach and mass. His blows were slower but filled with much more force. Those that landed knocked Wheeze about, leaving great gouges in his leather jerkin each time he suffered a body blow. Samuel was worried after the second strike, but he realized that Wheeze was only taking the hits he knew he couldn’t avoid and purposely allowing them to strike at his armor rather than his bare arms.

Makes sense… Samuel thought, racking his brain for a decent strategy. Sword that size? It would cleave an arm off if it struck there. His armor must be enchanted or something, the way it’s just tanking those hits. Probably can’t do that for long though, I gotta act fast!

Lowering his Cog Barrier to absorb what leftover spell energy was left of it, he pulled out his bag of scrap to look for something he could work with. His better skills required material components in the form of gears, or iron bars, or broken tools.

I have Storm of Scrap, but that’s essentially a fireball that can cut people up rather than burn them… if we could get some space, I could shred him… maybe I can grab his attention with a few lobbed Chargebolts? Samuel mused, twitching his fingers as he started settling on a plan of action. Well… screw it, let’s see if the dream ends here!

Snapping his fingers on his right hand, he twisted the spell energy and threw the first of his attacks. “Chargebolt! Come on, you scaly bastard, I need a new belt!” He bellowed as he loosed the electrical blast.

It slammed into the Trog’s side with almost no effect. The beast turned and stared at Samuel before c*****g a wry grin. “Nice try, little mage. But my hide resists magical effects. For yer effort, though? You die first.”

He grunted as Wheeze snuck under his guard and left a gash along his chest. “Ugh! And you! Do me a favor…”

The Trog swung his massive blade over head into a descending axe strike with a speed he hadn’t shown before, a faint shimmer flowing over his bulging scaled arms as he did so.

“… and DIE!” He finished with a fierce war cry. The strike was coming too fast for Wheeze to dodge, so he hefted his own sword to deflect the blow.

He was hammered like a tent pole for his trouble, his impromptu attempt at shielding himself being the only thing that spared him an instantaneous death. He crumpled back, his own blade slamming into his face in a spurt of blood and cracking of bone. He grunted once, a long piteous groan slipping past his lips as he was slammed into the water at his feet with a thunderous splash. Bubbles filtered up from beneath the brackish water, showing he was still alive… for now.

The Trog sniffed once, swinging his blade back as he turned to glare at Samuel. “Now… let’s see what you’re made of, shall we?”

“Sure, but I could tell you instead of you making my internal organs suddenly external.” Samuel offered, taking a few cautious steps back.

The Trog advanced, dragging his blade through the muck as he advanced. “Oh, is this where you beg?” He asked, a dark smile crossing his crocodilian features. “I love when you hairless apes beg.”

“Beg?” Samuel gave a chuckle, still backing away. He watched as Elena slunk from the shadows to pull Wheeze out from under the water, sparing him a glance as she moved. Needles was still puking, but seemed to get it under control, while Skelly and Posnev were slowly getting to their feet. He waved a hand at Elena, hoping she got the message he didn’t want her helping, before focusing on his opponent. “I mean, there a chance that will save me?”

“Not a good one.” The Trog replied, chuckling. “But let’s hear it anyway, you never know… I might feel inspired.”

“Yeah… that doesn’t make me feel any better, but here goes.” Samuel said, visibly shuddering. “Any way, you could let me just, I don’t know, leave? Maybe if I drop what treasure I have?”

“That’s yer pitch?” He asked, snorting. “Gotta say, I’ve heard better.”

“Okay… how about you don’t kill me while I’m standing in filthy water?” He asked, licking his lips. “I’m not a fan of swamps, come from a place where this is way out of the norm. Plenty of enormous pieces of rubble here. Could I die on one of them, maybe?”

The Trog seemed surprised, stopping some fifteen feet in front of Samuel. He seemed to consider it. “Not going to offer to serve me, or try to run? Just accepting yer death, just like that?”

Samuel gave a nervous shrug. “Well,” he began, “you’re just a figment of my imagination, so you killing me? Yeah, I’ll just wake up.”

The Trog studied him for a moment before breaking into amused chuckles. “You think I’m a dream, boy?” He asked, amused. “Hell, that’s the first time I’ve heard that one. For that? Sure, choose a rock. I’ll kill you quick on some dry land, if it makes you feel better. Then you can realize I’m no dream. Nah, I’m more of a nightmare.”

“Ah, well… thank you.” Samuel said, relieved. He looked around before settling on a larger piece of rubble, some ten feet in diameter. “That one should do, that work?”

The Trog looked over at it, nodding. “Sure, why not?”

Samuel trudged through the muck towards it, the Trog walking steadily behind him at a leisurely pace. He climbed up onto it with a good deal of effort, rolling up with a grunt and then pushing himself to his feet. “Look, thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it. Knowing my luck, you’d hit me and drop me into a coma, and then I’d die by drowning. Always been a fear of mine, you know?”

The Trog shrugged. “Not really. We don’t really have issues with water, obviously.” He said, following. “Gotta say, this is kind of refreshing. Most of you pests whine and cry, or shout about the forces of good or whatever… you though, just accepting you bit off more than you could chew and accepting yer lumps.”

Samuel smiled and shook his head as the Trog stopped at the rock. “Yeah, well… funny thing about pests. We can still be dangerous, especially if you don’t stay wary.”

The Trog laughed and motioned over his shoulder at the rest of Samuel’s party. “What? Ya think I’m gonna let them sneak up on me?”

“No.” Samuel said, spreading his hands, flipping a battered coin between his fingers. “I think I’m going to test your ability to make a Reflex save.”

The Trog’s eyes widened, but that was all he could do before Samuel unleashed his spell. “Storm of Scrap!” Samuel bellowed, throwing the coin forward. The bent copper piece multiplied in an instant, all the pieces picking up speeds as if fired from a cannon.

A blast of metal exploded forward in a wave of pain and agony. The Trog was just barely able to cover his eyes and throat as thousands of coins flew into him, cutting into his flesh and embedding into him like a hail of bullets. The Trog stood firm though, hundreds of gashes leaking his virulent blue blood as he wheezed from the attack.

He let out a weak chuckle, lowering his arms. A thin trail of blood leaked from over his left eye where a coin was embedded into his skull. “Heh… clever rat, aren’t you? Figured I can’t resist physical things launched by magic just by watching your first spell fail? Too bad you couldn’t kill me with that, though.”

“Oh, you thought that was supposed to kill you?” Samuel asked, smiling.

The Trog paused at that. Samuel continued. “No, that wasn’t supposed to be a death blow. That was to set up this. Chargebolt!”

The Trog grinned as the spell charged and flew at him. The grin faded when the spell slammed into his chest and, instead of sizzling away to nothing, it arced across him in a brilliant flash of lighting. Electrical currents lanced into his body through the embedded copper pieces, cooking the monstrous lizard man where he stood over several seconds. Smoke poured off of him, his mouth locked in a silent scream as his yellow eyes burst from the pressure.

His pain ended when Needles sword went into the tortured creature’s back, his muscles paralyzed by the electric currents racing through him. Without a sound, the Trog slumped forward onto the chunk of rubble Samuel stood atop. He heaved a sigh of relief and smiled at his compatriots, who stared at him in stunned awe.

“Oh thank Jesus that freaking worked!” He laughed, before dropping into the water next to Needles. “Everyone okay?”

The silence that greeted him made his smile waver. “What?” He asked after a few seconds.

The rest of the party just started clapping and cheering, Elena running up to sling her arms around his neck, laughing.