Samuel Graves and the Akemic Chronicles

Damned If You Do...

With the Trog’s corpse rapidly cooling within the murky water, smoke rising from the cracked and charred hide, the group could look over their various wounds to make certain nothing was life-threatening.

Skelly had a bruise the size of a watermelon growing on his chest when he peeled off his sticky padded leather chest guard, the humid swamp making him sweat veritable buckets despite the chill in the air. Posnev was fine, if not a little annoyed at having been a pillow for their master’s impromptu landing. Allowing him to gorge on roasted Trog seemed to satiate the two heads, both tearing into the fleshy torso of the dead lizard man.

Wheeze was the worst off, dazed for close to ten minutes as Skelly and, surprisingly, Elena administered what first-aid they could. The hammer blow that had dropped him had cracked his sword, not to the point of shattering, but the seasoned warrior frowned as he examined the damage while he was being bandaged up.

Elena had escaped unscathed, something that had earned scorn from Needles. His own injuries, several bruises and scrapes that left him glowering, were more of a nuisance than a danger. Still, with the fetid water they’d all been dowsed with, Samuel figured they should try to find something that had antiseptic properties sooner rather than later. When he brought the subject up, he’d garnered a few surprised looks.

“You know about medicine?” Skelly had asked, slathering a foul smelling gel on his bruised chest from an unlabeled jar he’d pulled from his pack. “Odd.”

“Why?” Samuel asked, checking over the passage the massive Trog had emerged from up on the raised platform. He spared a glance at the older Druid. “Seems like a useful skill for an adventurer to have, right?”

“It is.” Skelly agreed, screwing the lid onto his jar. “But not one a Mage usually takes. They focus on knowledge and magic based skills. Since we’re on the subject… what did you do to this beast of foe?” He kicked the Trog as he spoke, Posnev growling slightly as he chewed.

Samuel shrugged. “Just used a base skill with an advanced one. Chargebolt uses electricity, while Storm of Scrap sends a wide cone of replicated metal as a burst of slashing damage.

“That I get.” Skelly said, slipping his chest guard back on. “But I saw you drop on of those lightning bolts into the beast to no effect. How did you get it to work the second time, and why did you use an area-of-effect spell on a single creature like that? Those skills cost more energy, and we need to hurry with our task. We won’t have time to break camp just so you can re-charge.”

“No fear, I recharge as I go.” Samuel said with a smile. He pulled up his skill screen, scanning through his purchased skills until he found the one he was looking for. “Look up Spell Sponge and let me know when you’ve read it.”

He selected the skill himself and smiled as he read over the notes.

SKILL: SPELL SPONGE

PASSIVE: SPELL SPONGE ALLOWS THE CASTER TO RECHARGE SPELL ENERGY AT A RATE OF 1% PER SPELL CAST, OR PER SPELL CAST AT THEM. LONGER EFFECTS CONTINUALLY RECHARGE THE CASTER, BUT ONLY IF SUCH EFFECTS ARE CONSIDERED HARMFUL TO THE SUBJECT.

ACTIVE: NONE

COST: 50 XP

Samuel could tell Skelly was reading his own invisible screen, and when he finished. “So you recharge a bit every time you cast, so what? No way that can be helpful at your level of power.”

“Oh, it can.” Samuel grinned. “I’m not a Mage, but a Clockwork Caster. I have my own sub-set of skills that allow me to do some odd things, one of which is to debuff a person.”

“Debuff?” Needles asked, lighting a slim cigarette. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Samuel said, rolling back his long sleeves to reveal a pair of oversized iron manacles. “I threw a curse on myself for a minimal cost, and it continually recharges me as we go. Best part? I can remove it myself with a Scrapper check.”

Elena whistled as Wheeze just chuckled. “That’s slick!” She said, stepping up to examine the manacles. “What do they do?”

Samuel shrugged. “They’re added weight, I imagine if I use them on someone else and dump enough energy I can drop them from the encumbrance.”

“That is clever… so, you don’t really need to worry about being drained of energy too easily.” Skelly said, nodding as he understood. “Still doesn’t explain why you wasted a Storm of Scrap on the creature when he’d shown he could resist magical effects.”

Samuel smiled, turning back to the passage. “He showed his hide had magic resistant properties. Storm of Scrap uses the spell energy to hurl metal items at something with significant force and speed. They aren’t magical at all, the propulsion is.”

“Then you followed up with something you knew he resisted, finishing him… the storm did enough damage to weaken him, I guess?” Elena guessed, looking at Needles and Wheeze as they smoked. The two shrugged.

“Looks like?” Needles said.

“I used copper coins as the base for the spell, meaning I peppered him with replicated coins. They burrowed into him good and deep from the force of the spell. Then?”

He turned and gave a feral smile. “Then I dumped a miniature thunderstorm worth of electrical energy into him. The coins acted as conductors, funneling the damaging effects past his hide into his vulnerable insides. Basically microwaved him.”

“Microwaved?” Skelly asked, looking back at the others for explanation. Seeing they were just as confused, he just shook his head and pressed on. “You knew it would work? How?”

Samuel shrugged. “An educated guess, one that paid off. Now, shall we check back where the bastard slept before he took his final nap?”

“Might get lucky, your relic might be on his nightstand.” Elena said, hopeful. “Would love to get out of here, feel like I have mold growing in my boots.”

“Yeah,” Wheeze coughed, flicking his cigarette into the water. “Migh’ jus’ be in there, though I doubt it.”

“Freya’s t**s, have a little hope, eh?” Elena said, crossing her arms. “Say it like that and you’ll jynx us.”

Skelly sighed. “Let’s just see what the big guy had, alright? Might find a new sword for Wheeze, as his will probably break on the next piece of armor he strikes.”

“Like this ‘un, too.” Wheeze said, holding his broad two-handed blade up. The crack along the flat of the blade was deep. “Took it from tha’ one guy back in Armor’s Edge, remember Needles? Tha’ fool with tha’ braided beard, big ol’ nose? Smelled like boiled cabbage?”

“Yeah, I remember…” Needles twisted a pinky in his ear. “s**t, got water in me head.” He sighed. “Gonna be days before I can dry out.”

“That’s if yer lucky.” Wheeze said with a wince. “‘Member, I went under. Got plenty o’ gunk up me nose and in both ears. Feel like I got dunked in tha’ ocean fer kicks.”

“Come on then,” Skelly said, climbing up the side of the dais. It was obvious it once had stairs leading up to it, but they must have been made of something that had succumbed to decay. “No use just standing around talking about all this.”

Samuel nodded. The path the massive Trog had come from was a worn stone hallway, ten feet wide and ten feet high, with a curved ceiling. The entrance showed rusted hinges, meaning an enormous set of double doors had once blocked passage. The hall was some twenty feet long, leading to a small chamber. The light of the failing torch didn’t reach far enough into the chamber to let him see anything beyond vaguely shadowed shaped.

The rest of the party crawled up and headed down the hall, Needles and Elena taking point with Wheeze walking a few steps behind as backup.

The chamber ended up being where the smelly beast had dwelled, apparently. A large pile of matted furs that reeked like an open sewer line in mid-summer dominated the far corner, with scattered pieces of battered weaponry and armor laying about. A small chest, worn and battered from centuries of use, sat by the fur mound.

“Hitting the chest.” Needles announced, pulling a roll of slim tools from his belt pouch.

Elena started walking along the walls, running a hand over the bricks. “I’ll see if there are any hidden passages.”

“Ha!” Wheeze cried, making everyone spin in a panic. He was holding a silver longsword up, the flickering torchlight giving it a faint glow. “Nice! Replacement sword found, we can all relax now!”

“Shouldn’t we check it over?” Elena asked, looking between Skelly and Samuel. “I mean, what if it’s, I dunno, cursed or something?”

Samuel turned to watch as Wheeze swung it about merrily. “Yeah, I’m good.” He said. “Not going to take away babies’ fresh bottle. He might stab me with it…”

“What do you mean?” Skelly asked.

Samuel waved at Wheeze. “If we get suspicious of that thing now, how the Hell are we going to get it away from him? Plus, he already picked it up. Doesn’t cursed s**t attach to you when you wield it?”

Skelly winced when Wheeze took the blade and did a flying leap onto the mound of rotted furs, sheathing the weapon in them almost to the hilt. “You have a point… on both counts, actually.” He raised his voice. “Wheeze, I know you needed a new weapon, but please let the experts inspect the goods before you handle them again, alright?”

“Hey!” He growled, yanking it from the bed. “I know swords, mate. Yer jus’ jealous I got somethin’ and yew didn’t!”

Skelly rolled his eyes. “We’re” he said, motioning between Samuel and himself. “Are experts on curses, you lout!”

“I know ‘ow ta—”

“Not curses as in swearing, you i***t!” Needles piped in, a jeweler’s loupe perched over his left eye as he used some slender metal lock picks were bing used on the built in lock. “He means things cursed magically, you know? Things that make your muscles shrink, or drive you insane, or—”

“Yeh mean Adrian mighta made me piss blood?” Wheeze asked, horrified. He looked at the blade with a hint of caution. “I though’ I could trust ‘er…”

Skelly massaged his temples. “Olm preserve me…”

Elena looked back from where she was tapping on the wall, small hammer in hand. “You swear to the Tree of Wisdom?”

Skelly looked at her appraisingly. “You know of Olm?”

“Yeah, I mean… I kind of hid near one of his groves a few years back. Was ducking some Seekers, figured that they wouldn’t go near such a place.”

“Remember where it was?” Skelly asked, curious.

She shrugged. “Southern Tyria, close to Warden’s Hedge.”

Samuel sighed. “I get you guys know all these places, but remember: I have no clue what, who, or where any of these… well, you get the idea.”

Sighing, Elena turned and appraised Samuel. “Okay, I told you about Blackheart. Tyria is just west of there… or rather, was west of there until about eleven years ago.”

“Blackheart invaded, claimed that Tyria was one of their original colonies and belonged to them. Marched close to a hundred thousand zombies, skeletons, and ghouls over the borders and swept them in under three days. Their forces, just Dormaer—”

“The people from there.” Elena interrupted at Samuel’s apparent confusion at another proper name. “Descended from the old Samp people have a bit of Elf in them, but nowhere near me.”

“—militia men and retired adventurers stood no chance. Place had been made into a penal colony of sorts ever since. Rumors of Elven experiments going on have been flying, but nobody will press the issue as they’d likely face a squad of Seekers.”

“Blackheart criminals that have been bound by a custom curse.” Elena explained, shivering slightly. “They each get a decade. They have to find and capture one-hundred Half-Elves or Dormaer. If they don’t, the curse kills them. Painfully. They get free rein otherwise and are nasty as shit.”

“Yeah, I guess they would be a rough and tumble group…” Samuel mused, walking over to Wheeze as the man poked about the room, “Adrian” poking about amidst the various pieces in search of anything valuable. “Sorry, feel free to continue!”

“Thanks…” Skelly groused, eyes returning to Elena. “Not familiar with that Grove, any Druids there?”

Elena shook her head. “Didn’t see anything, but you know what they say?”

Scowling, Skelly shook his head. “If you’re in the woods and see the signs of a Druid, they’re already watching you… yeah, I know.”

“What, looking to meet a colleague?” Samuel asked, bending down. “Wheeze, lift this helmet, would you?”

Wheeze used the silver blade to hook the knight’s helm, flipping it back to reveal a tarnished necklace. “Nice! How’d ya know?”

Samuel shrugged, not wanting to say how video games liked to hide random loot in spots like this. “Just lucky, I guess? We can clean this pretty easily. Going to go out on a limb and say you’d know how to find someone we could unload some jewelry on. Am I right?”

Needles spoke up before Wheeze could. “Me an’ Wheeze will buy out any found gems and jewelry from the group shares. Easier to carry than coins. They get heavy quick. We move around a lot, becomes a pain in the ass.”

“But yeah,” Wheeze said, patting Samuel on the shoulder, “I know a fair number. Easy ‘nuff ta find ‘em, one in pretty much every town. Can show ya some when we get outta here nearby, think Three-Tooth Monty is still lingerin’ about in Crow’s Nest.”

“Think I just about… HA!” Needles cried, the lid popping open a half inch. “There we go, jackpot!”

“Let’s see what we have in here then…” Elena said, stepping away from the wall while packing away her rock hammer. “Cross your fingers Skelly, we might already be done!”

Skelly frowned. “One can only hope.”