The Journey Never Ends (Original Fantasy Quest)

Three of the vehicles drive towards you, slipping onto the road with ease. They look well maintained despite how much rough terrain the bandits must drive through daily. Sleek with high quality steel, plastics, and tires, they easily make their way towards you. It seems these models didn't let off any fumes, though that alone doesn't tell you much about how much magic is involved. Not that you know much of anything about… motorcycles, you remember. You set your bag on the ground in preparation.

They start slowing down when they get closer, and you get a better look at the riders. Leading at the front is a lacerta, most of his scales hidden behind leather clothing and a bandana wrapped around his head. You spot a pistol strapped to his waist and what you think is a knife opposite it. To his left is a human also wearing a bandana. Dark hair and tanned skin frame hard eyes as she stares you down, and the long rifle she carries on her back tells you exactly of her threat. Lastly, the orc to the right shows off his scarred green visage to the world, torn leather jacket and pants cementing his image. He has some melee instruments with him which you think might be something collapsible.

They stop a short distance away from you, their engines lightly humming. The orc gets off first and rests a hand on his weapons as he walks towards you. He stops a few meters away from you, and that's when you hear the leader speak up.

"We've been watching you since you came to the town," the lacerta begins. "We know you're loaded! Hand over everything, don't resist when the big guy searches you, and we won't have any problems, lady."

You hear the distant cocking of a firearm from him. Kinetic, then.

He continues speaking, "Resist, well, we won't kill you, don't want to bask in too much heat, but let's just say you'll live to regret it and have everything taken anyways."

Ah, some things never change. You decide to play along for a bit.

"How generous," you respond evenly. "Where did you learn to make such great offers?"

His amber eyes glitter with amusement, "At University of Andaluce, thanks for asking. Unfortunately, I had to make a… drastic career change. Such a terrible economy these days in Tarshish. I'm thankful for the more, ah, enterprising souls out here in supporting my new endeavors."

You smile back at him, taking in the postures of three before you, "You have my sympathies. Unfortunately, I cannot wish you luck, as I believe you will be clasped in chains shortly. I hope you have a good lawyer."

You can see the orc in front of you tense slightly at your nonchalant tone and pauses from the others. However, there are no more quips or banter. You can tell that they are experienced with an intelligent leader directing them in what to do in various situations. In an instant the orc is rushing towards you, a baton and shield suddenly in his hands. With him running towards you with cover on most of his vitals, he narrows the targets you can hit with an arrow. He's faster than you thought too. An average archer or firearm wielder might panic and not react in time to the rush.

You are not an average archer.

Quick as a flash, you step back and draw out your bow with an arrow from your quiver already in position. The orc leaps at you in an attempt to run you over before you could shoot, but you dart to the side and send an arrow crackling with lightning into his shield arm. As his arm jolts and he nearly loses his grip, you've already let loose the same arrows into his thigh and side. Even with blunted tips, the impact and shock send him convulsing on the ground in a second of violence.

The others weren't idle however. You can hear two more engines in the distance, and the other two present are riding around you as well. Without hesitating, you start running. Barely a second later, you can hear lancer fire, the loud bangs nearly causing you to flinch if you haven't been accustomed to it already. The supposed leader drives at you from behind at a slight angle as if to run you over. When he nears you, you leap backwards high in the air just as his trajectory curves and turns around right when he would have impacted you.

The both of you attempted to outmaneuver the other, and when the lacerta suddenly finds the arm holding the pistol seizing from a shock arrow impacting it, he knows that his assumption of you wanting to get on his bike with the jump was a mistake.

"Shit!" You hear him hiss loudly, but you're already landing and ducking to avoid the long lance of red energy the riflewoman fires at you. Energy weapons too, you note.

This time, you nock an arrow made to pierce as you start moving. Preparing a spell, you start rolling to the side to avoid another shot and turn yourself around to aim at the human who slowed down to get a better shot. Both millennia of practice and ingrained knowledge allows you to go through the mental calculations, imagery, and incantations of forming the spell and effect in a split second. The long-honed feeling and impression of the piercing arrow runs through you, the familiarity of the sensation almost comforting you as your vision narrows to your target.

The human tries to accelerate her bike once more, but the arrow you let loose shoots out with a loud shink that drowns out the twang of the bowstring. The pale gold light shaped into a point shears through the tires and continues its path unimpeded until it flies out of sight, with the twinkling, almost metallic ring and hum of magic in the air left in its wake.

Only seconds passed, but even a moment is an eternity in combat. The concentration required to enhance your arrow almost costs you as you spot the alerion flying over you. Something drops next to you less than a second after you see them and a cloud of smoke immediately starts billowing out from it. Covering your mouth with a hand holding an arrow, you hastily begin to try outrunning it, but someone who has no right to be as silent as they are attempts to grab you with big meaty arms suddenly from the corner of your eye.

Lifetimes of built-up instinct sees you mentally draw yourself into the swirling mana and energy of the Currents. Some mages, even the talented ones, never learn how to teleport. For a variety of reasons, they are unable to wrap their heads around phasing out of material existence, losing their physical body and mind momentarily, bending standard space and time mechanics, and all the other different ways of instantaneous or near-instantaneous movement. Even if they understand some of the theoretical calculations, an already difficult feat, it is a magic that can't be done if the mage can't truly grasp it.

Your experience with the Currents and the Fae who easily traverse it gives you that slight edge to turn this from a lengthy ability where you have to prepare and trudge through the spell to a surge of sharp calculations of trajectory and honed intuition. The assailant sees only flashes of strange lights before they feel a foot slam into his back. You send him flying into the air from the impact, and he lands badly a distance away.

"Tch, you're gonna pay for that you fucking bitch!" You hear the angry, low voice yell out.

To your surprise, you see that the attacker is an ogre clothed in a dark, concealing outfit. The nearly eight foot figure rippling with muscle nimbly gets up from the ground by flipping himself back up, though you can see that the kick was making him hunch his back in pain.

The gas mask covering his lower mouth doesn't conceal the surprised anger in his eyes at your strength, though he quickly draws a baton like the orc had while you nock an arrow. Already keeping your body in motion, it saves you as a crack sounds through the air before you can shoot him. You bite back a hiss of pain as a searing hot lance of energy slams into your shoulder, tearing through the minor magic shielding and the jacket. It leaves your skin and part of the muscle underneath it burned, but you've taken much worse.

You push past it and step to the right just in time to avoid the thrust by the ogre. An arrow slams into his torso and is immediately followed by two more sent into his kneecaps as you shoot two at the same time. Somehow still standing, you correct that as you quickly step up and drive your foot straight into his chest. You feel and hear the ribs crack beneath your foot as you send him flying again.

You step forward with the raised leg and immediately duck to avoid the shot of the rifle. Seeing you turn towards her, the sharpshooter panics and begins revving up the orc's bike she must have moved towards when you shot through the tires of her own. The arrows that disable her arms cause her to drop the gun and fall forward before you shoot out the tires of the second bike.

Breathing lightly, you quickly check your surroundings and find only the orc, ogre, and human you took down. The distant roaring of the engines tells you the others must have decided to cut their losses and escape. The alerion is nowhere to be found in the skies, and you lower your bow as the fight winds down.

You suspect not even a minute passed, but it's rare for a battle of this scale to last that long anyways. If you were moderately less capable, they probably could have have beaten you to the ground in less than ten seconds. Drawing an arrow cautiously, you take a deep breath before pressing on.

You raise your voice and shout, "I suggest you all lie down and allow me to tie you up! I'd rather return the courtesy and not kill you if I don't have to, but you should know that the laws of the lands here are not kind to bandits such as you. Let me call the guards over here, and you may leave this day with your life. Resist… well, let's just say you won't live to regret anything for much longer."

"Shut the fuck up." You hear the orc snarl from a distance away, but he makes no aggressive move.

You move towards the large bag you dropped and take out a few lengths of rope. The ogre, still recovering from the shock and broken ribs, snarls as you approach, but allows himself to be tied up. The orc seems to have recovered, but seeing what you did to the ogre and the lack of worry on your face, sighs before getting down to be tied up. You spot the woman trying to walk away and give her a look that causes her to stop with a frustrated but cowed expression on her face.

"Nice shots, but you probably should have found a vantage point." You comment idly.

She eyes you incredulously, "Normal folks with a bow can't outshoot me on the bike. Or somehow… dodge my shots or whatever you did. And I ain't that good of a shot that far away, especially with how fast you are. Who the hell… wait. You ain't human, your eyes and face… what are you?" her gaze drops to your shoulder. "And how the hell is your arm moving so well? I didn't see you do any crazy magic shit for that."

You smile mysteriously, "I don't have the faintest idea. Anyways, go over there with the other two and lie down."

When some patrolmen drive over a few hours later, they take in the scene before thanking you for leaving some people to question and offering a ride to your destination. You'd have normally refused, but it has been a few months since you've come to this region, and you won't turn down faster transportation if it means moving on.

Getting into a car, you watch a little unsteadily as the area around you rushes past the window. You start as the car bumps over something on the road. Perhaps you should have walked.

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You step into the crowded train, eyes quickly spotting the only available seat. The kobold next to it gives you a side eye when you sit down, but you merely return a small smile before looking away. Your beanie is in place and covering your ears, so most races will probably view you as a particularly strange looking human if they are looking. The bow catches some odd looks, but you shrug it off. The ordeal you go through every time with security has left you inured to such judgments.

Looking around, you doubt most people are even looking at their surroundings though. Most are on their tablets or sleeping. You do see a centaur lounging across a modified seat, quietly chatting with a human friend. A halfling a few seats from you is giving a look promising death to the miu loudly talking on her tablet next to him. Surprisingly, you see a giant standing awkwardly in one of the larger spaces, her head nearly scraping the ceiling despite how high it already is. They don't usually venture out from Avista, from what you recall.

You look away from her and begin settling in. You don't really enjoy using the tablet too much, and your pack doesn't leave much room for a book, so you start just trying to relax. Trains are usually better for you than cars, especially the ones in the past decade or two. Somehow, they started feeling as if they weren't even moving. Sitting still in an enclosed space with a bunch of strangers still doesn't set you at ease though, and you begin to awkwardly fidget as you wait for the departure.

As the train is about to depart however, an elderly orc makes his way in and starts looking around for a seat. Bushy facial hair lined the lower half of his face, and you could spot a few scars here and there on his wrinkled green skin. Though he appears to be maintaining his health, the way he leans on the cane he holds in his gnarled hand makes it clear it isn't decorative.

After a moment's hesitation, you rise up out of your seat and beckon the orc over. Surprisingly, he gives you a warm smile instead of the gruff acknowledgement you've seen from most older orcs and makes his way to the seat.

"Thank you, young lady." He says, voice rumbling.

There's no need to correct him, so you merely dip your head and respond with, "It was nothing, sir."

He gave off a small laugh, "Polite, aren't you? It's good to see the youth around here know their manners."

At that, you had to shake your head, "Ah, I'm afraid I am not from around here. I'm a traveler."

The orc turns to you with an inquisitive eyebrow, "Ho?" He looks around you, but doesn't seem to find what he was looking for. "Do you travel alone? While I love my home, it has its dangers like anywhere else for tourists."

"Don't worry," you reply back, tapping your bow. "I can take care of myself." You quickly move your hand away when you catch a sharp glare from the security guard standing some distance from you.

The orc frowns a little, "Still, young lady. I do think it'd be best if…"

He trails off, looking at your bow a bit closer before squinting his eyes at you. He even puts on a pair of glasses hanging around his neck. Outwardly, you keep calm, though in your head you start going through why he's reacting like this. Did he recognize it somehow? You look closer at his face, his scars, at what you think is an arm of metal, and quickly run through all these details in your head.

"By the Light," he mutters, before looking back up at you. "Is that you, Deirdre?"

You stare back at the orc, your mind settling on how to respond. As an elf, you were created to be able to withstand the ravages of time and all the sorrows it causes towards the long-lived . However, even a well-constructed machine eventually breaks down a little. While you have all the below issues, which one stands at the forefront?

Choose One:
[] Memory

[] Dulled

[] Weight

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