Challenge #03050-H127: Fate, Destiny… a Basket…
They had been born, and abandoned. This small child, a babe in the woods, taken in by others who found their odd appearance undaunting. Who did not care about appearance, all they cared is that they were a child and needed someone to love them. They looked like a tiefling, but had the white, soft, wings of an angelic. One eye a beautiful sky blue, the other flaming red. They projected strength, and kindness at the same time. They had horns, and yet, at the same time, a golden halo, a ring of magic, drifted between the two horns upon the child’s head. – Teachers
There are those who hold that the product of a Tiefling and an Aasimar should be merely Human. Most of the time, they are correct in that assumption. Once… they were wrong. Well. They could have been wrong. Nobody knew whose hands put the babe in the basket, nor the basket in the river, but it and its passenger wound up in Merrivale, where Dellaise Baumkyn scooped them up and became a mother.
Halflings are renowned for their hospitality, and any otherwise unwelcome soul finds themselves a warm welcome in their lands. So it was that the infant with both horns and downy wings had a new home and a new family. Dellaise named him Amatu, and loved him as thoroughly as any of her more natural children. She taught him well, fed him well, cared for him and worried as any mother would… and it was not very long at all before the child realised how different they were.
Being the tallest in the house at age eight will do that to a person. So when Amatu asked, Dellaise told the story of the luckiest day of both their lives. How two lives were made better with a simple discovery.
There was no note, and his infant self had escaped his swaddling, which was so generic and impersonal that Dellaise sometimes had dark thoughts about the person who had initially set him adrift. There may have been no choice. It may have been an act of desperation. There was no way to tell, and it didn’t truly matter, as the important part was the love and family he had found.
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Challenge #02857-G300: The Curse/Blessing of Brightherald
Her child, one of several otherwise unwanted waifs within the village that she’d adopted, brought him to Ma. An older woman who was scarred and, yet, quite strong. She never gave up hope. He was old, he was poor, and he spent a great deal of time hungry. She’d seen him begging before, but had never had a chance to speak to him. When he was lead to her by one of her children during the Sunshine Festival, she had the chance to do so. No pay for a meal, only spend time with the children. As the sun rose, an invitation came to stay with her and her family in their home. For some work, and helping her with the family, he would have a roof over his head and food in his belly.
https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-02774-g217-finding-a-smile – Anon Guest
[AN: Bless you with benevolent synchronicity for adding the link into this prompt]
The sun rose. Enough smiles had brought springtime forth. The people thought it was their festival and the sweets, but it was truly won by the ugliest, the unhappiest, and the unwanted. Smiles can be performative. They can be a mask. They can, very obviously, be a lie.
The town had forgotten that it was true, sunny feeling that caused the sun to rise and end the winter. It was true warmth that helped summer along and made it prosper. Now that Neg had found a smile at the bottom of a bowl, the people of Brightherald were about to experience some very interesting times.
It began as all things do, with small things. Neg woke in a warm bed inside a comfortable home, with three other people and at least one animal using him as a personal heater. He woke to the smell of a stew in progress and the rumbling of a kettle. There was a pock-marked child perilously close to his face. Someone was singing - badly.
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Challenge #02820-G263: You’re Adopted!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jM8dCGIm6yc – Anon Guest
[AN: Watch it. Be amazed]
Humans may not be the only species who have weaponised music, but they are the only ones who have weaponised it so effectively. Many have known the sheer horror of thousands of Humans with their voices raised in one song. Scarier still is one Human with some impressive vocal skills.
Soprano is just one of them. The ability to project is another. Throat singing, however, is one of the more horrifying ones. It’s bad enough to be in combat and facing off against one of the more terrifying Deathworlders on the Galactic rolls. Then they start growling at you.
It takes a moment to realise that this menacing rumble is coming out in a tune. That it’s emerging in words. By then, the dancing has started. It’s not just that it’s a rhythmic display of co-ordination and fitness, it’s also that it’s a rhythmic display of the multitude of fighting moved the Human could use to kill you.
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Challenge #02607-G050: This is MY Baby
The most dangerous place in the whole world is between mother and child.
A: She’s not even a human!
B: You can take this child from my cold, dead hands. Don’t worry, little one, I will not let them near you. – Anon Guest
There are indisputable, largely unwritten, laws of the universe. Some of them are common sense like, Do not drink water that smells bad. Some are a little more specific like, Never eat the food at a place called Mom’s, or Don’t play cards with someone who smiles all the time. But the number one rule, known even by creatures that can’t articulate the thought, is this: Never mess with a mother and her child.
Marvin was, possibly, seventeen years old. If he had a family before, he certainly couldn’t remember anything about them. He had spent his entire life being the scapegoat for The Razorz, and was generally the one person who took in the firewood, took out the trash, and took the blame for everything. It was quite a surprise, then, to learn that he had gained a mother.
She was, perhaps, four feet tall. She was also draconic, and a sort of muddy green that could blend in with a surprising amount of backgrounds. She had come out of nowhere to prevent Big Yan from landing another meaty fist on Marvin’s head, which was still ringing. She made herself look as menacing as a singular Kobold could look, and screeched, “YOU KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY BOY!”
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Challenge #02594-G037: And a Macaroni Necklace
He owned, of all things, a trash planet. How did he manage to own an entire planet? Well, when you have an IQ that puts nearly all of the rest of the human race to shame, it’s not hard to figure out how to get ownership of such a thing. Besides, no one argued much when he won the bet and requested a trash planet in a rather out-of-the-way area of space as his reward. And, with it, he was able to tinker to his heart’s content with a nearly inexhaustible supply of parts. He had been 18 then, and now at 25, his newest project was almost completed.
The ship was odd, to be sure. Made of dozens of parts from several various races, but it worked perfectly. Strong engines, improvised defensive weaponry, and the inside was almost as luxurious as an expensive passenger liner. But he did not build it for himself. His ship towed the odd-looking vessel from the planet and he headed toward the planet where his close friends lived. The “dinos” as he called them had not only saved his life, but had been there when he was young and had no one else to turn to. Especially one family in particular. This gift, one of love, gratitude, and admiration, was for them. – Anon Guest
One man’s trash is another man’s treasure – Ancient Human saying.
Never bet Doughnuts to Planets with a Human – A far more modern saying.
Jun had been eighteen when he won the trash planet. The generous dinos -who had more or less raised him from a feral stowaway they’d found in their hold- made sure he had adequate nutrition, shelter, and company whilst he tinkered with everything left on the trashworld. He’d named it New Workshop. It was everything it said on the tin.
Jun’s first invention was a series of seekerbots that went out and found the essential elements. The second, after a small array of programming mishaps, was a set of seekerbots that sought out potentially active technology first. That cut down significantly on the “new craters per Standard Week” statistics.
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Challenge #02341-F151: The Perils of Convenience
Imagine a Shop for Adventurers that sells nearly everything.
Including Scrolls to Talk to other Races and even with Animals and invokal Things.
Of course those Scrolls have a Price, however they can be found on Dead People or in the Dungeon. – Anon Guest
The chain was called Infinite Needs, and catered exclusively to Adventurers. The secret was that each pokey little shop front lead to a pocket dimension of a warehouse that was, theoretically, endless[1]. The shop had already lost points with Lady Anthe because of a sign at the entryway. All classified Small creatures must ride in the trolley seat.
Wraithvine had had to employ a cardboard barrier to stop her and Rumtum from battling each other, and put a Geas on Marvin to stay within sight of Wraithvine at all times. If the stock wasn’t so blessedly convenient, none of them would have been otherwise bothered. With the help of a Location Disc, they didn’t need to endlessly roam the plane, nor retrace their steps via respooling the twine. At least, they didn’t need to do that often.
“I want a sausage,” grumbled Rumtum. Unseen on the other side of the opaque barrier, Lady Anthe was making a mock of him by flapping her hand like a mouth and pulling faces. “And don’t tell me I can keep wanting. I’m hungry.”
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