Five Words, One Story - [Updates every week]

[Scottie]

Dearest members of RPA, it's that time again.



Time for a strange Scottish lady on the internet to fling inspiration your way!! In the form of a collection of random words to make your creative minds whirl!



Every Friday of this glorious RPApril, I will gift five things to anyone who wishes to participate. It is up to you, my bonnie fellow RPAper’s to make them into a short story!! Let your imagination go wild, think up the unthinkable, let the words speak to you and start a tale that will grow into something glorious!!

After all, those wonderful submissions have trundled into this thread and the month of April is nearly up, our judges will have a good ol’ natter and discuss which member did the best job at this crazy task each week and a shiny lovely badge will be given to said members!!



P.S. I know that I am not on EST but to make it fair for the vast majority of RPA, I will abide by EST for submissions!! I apologise if I get it incorrect or post things at the wrong time but I'll try my best!

Rules!

• On Fridays, you'll be given five random items, activities, places, etc. You must include them all in
  your submission!
• Entries must be formatted into short stories!
• Entries may be anywhere from 500 to 1,500 words!
• Entries must be submitted to the thread by the 30th of April! If you're just a little past the deadline, I'll let it slide if you give me a gif of a fluffy happy creature!
• To minimise confusion, please spoiler your entry and give it a title. Include your username, and the week. For example: '"The strange and confusing world of mice - Week 1. Scottie”'. It doesn't have to follow that exact format, but something along those lines would be perfect!
• Please keep thread chatter to a minimum.
• If you’d like to do a Mature story, I will very much allow it. Just please spoiler your story and place a M warning!
• All RPA rules apply!

So what happens after the 30th of April?

Entries will be voted upon by judges. They will be rated based on the following:

Grammar, spelling, etc.
How well you made the unrelated 'five things' fit together
General enjoyableness of the story
Good story structure, ie; introduction, presenting, conclusion, etc.
How original your story is (You can write a parody if you like! But the more unique your story is, the better.)


When the voting is complete, the results will be posted in this thread!

If you have any questions, feel free to PM me! I may have missed something, or phrased something in a way that makes sense to my silly brain but might not to everyone else's. I want this to be a lot of fun, so if you're confuddled, please don't hesitate to contact me!

Judges

Staff and maybe some shiny members! Please message Scottie if you’d like to judge this game!


Now, please grace me with your fantastic words!! I am waiting happily like this:




Week 1 - Friday 2nd of April
Deadline: Friday 30th of April
Midnight EST
Words: Dream, Conflict, Edge, Victory, Apple

Week 2 - Friday 9th of April
Deadline: Friday 30th of April
Midnight EST
Words: Coffin, Laundry, Rabbit, Fire, Gift

Week 3 - Friday 16th of April
Deadline: Friday 30th of April
Midnight EST
Words: Impulse, Glow, Value, Butterfly, Voyage

Week 4 - Friday 23rd of April
Deadline: Friday 30th of April
Midnight EST



Words: Utopia, Crown, Star, Teeth, History

[ArtisticVicu]

Spoiler: What If - Part 1 | Week 1 | AsharaSahara 

Ice bit into his bare back from the bitter cold wind. He gasped, stumbling forward under the gust. The fresh snow came up to his knees but did nothing to help his balance. The wind threw around the fine powder in whirlwinds between trees he half recognized. His hair whipped around his face, tugged and pulled from the bun he had stuffed it into hours prior.

Already the cold was numbing the agony of his injuries - though it did little for the pain of injuries that were not his own - and the rage kept his body going. He knew it wouldn't be long before he succumbed to his injuries and the cold.

"Gilla!" he called out, his heart thudding in his chest, mind desperately playing the last fifteen minutes over. They couldn't have been separated that much, could they? "Naaru!"

The burning desert sand was gone but the rub of sand in open wounds told him it had been real. The fog of rage blurred the edges of the last fifteen minutes but he remembered shoving his company back into an outcrop of rocks up onto a high shelf when some foreign creature ambushed them. There wasn't supposed to have been any encounters. It was supposed to be a conflict free cut through the hot sands on their way home.

Apparently the creature had other plans.

"Tuunux! Lilac!"

The last thing he could distinctly remember was the creature lunging. He had moved, determined to keep the creature from getting past him but his injured leg hadn't move as it was suppose to and he pitched too far to the side. The creature barreled through him and slam head first into the rockface. There were several shouts and screams from his company as the rockface split.

One of them slipped from the edge, quick hands keeping the small body from falling far. Despite the rough state they were all in, weapons were drawn and magic summoned.

"IQ! Necro!"

The creature rattled as it drew back, a low hiss accompanying the sound, and icy dread filled his veins. He had shouted something but whatever it had been, he couldn't remember.

Magic filled the hot air as he swayed upright, the weight of his battle axe heavy as it dragged through the sand like it was drifting through water and all he could do was watch.

Gilla removed a hand from the one the company was hoisting back onto the ledge. Magic encompassed her raised hand, a beautiful soft lavendar compared to the sharp sickly brown magic gathering at what counted as the creature's chest.

He didn't hear the vocalization of the spell but he saw her lips move. Whatever it had been didn't matter when that soft lavender changed to a color similar to sea foam. Her eyes widened and he bellowed - if it had been a word or an emotion, he didn't know - as that sea foam colored magic collided with and blended with the sickly brown.

"Anyone!"

A familiar screeching cut through the freezing air somewhere behind him. He took off at an uneven run as shouting started to accompany the screeching.

He made it in time to see the creature snatch up one of the company and end his life with a sickening crack. The rage in his veins flared anew. He let out a bellowed scream and charged forward.

He got lucky.

The creature - distracted with its latest victim - left itself open to attack a second too long. He buried his axe in the thing's back before hacking off its head.

He staggered as he paced the length of the creature, making sure the damned thing was thuroughly dead. Some victory. If only he had been faster, stronger.

"Status," he barked out as he approached the end of his check.

"Naaru and IQ are unconscious." Tuunux. His concern only grew when Tuunux grunted in pain. "IQ looks to be pretty bad but I think Naaru's just been knocked out."

"Not that yer in much better'a state."

"Shush, Necro."

Garlock crossed to the small group. They had huddled around the two prone members of the company as he'd checked his kill. None of them were dressed for the weather and he was certain he hadn't packed anything beyond his normal tunic and the spare. "Anyone still have food on them?" he asked, kneeling at Tuunux's side. The goblin was propped up in snow that was quickly changing color. He pressed a hand over the massive bite on the other's side. It didn't look deep but it was big enough to be concerning.

"I have a few rations," Necro spoke. "Lilac apparently has an apple and a block of cheese in his bag still but doesn't look like he has any of his rations."

"How did you manage to hang onto those?" Tuunux teased.

Lilac shrugged.

The only bag that managed to make it out of the whole ordeal with only one hole was IQ's but a quick dig through showed anything that had some weight to it had escaped through it leaving fabric and a loaf of bread behind. Even Garlock's pack had a good few tears in it. His gold and the extra clothing had been undamaged but the rations were nowhere to be found and his waterskin was punctured and empty. The lower part of his pack was sopping wet and there was the faint tinkling of broken glass. His bed roll would be useless until they built a fire.

They needed shelter first.

"Necro, bandage Tuunux as best you can with what we have. What potions I had are broken."

"I have one left," Gilla offered, passing it to Garlock.

He quickly pushed it back into her hand. "Give it to IQ. Lilac, help her bandage him after he's been given the potion."

"What of you, Garlock?" Tuunux spoke out, hand wrapping around his wrist. "Or Cupcake?"

He forced his thoughts to remain off of the unconscious displacer beast residing in his shadow. One worry at a time. "We'll be fine."

"Garlock," Gilla started but a sharp burst of wind cut her off. He glanced skyward.

His stomach dropped.

Thick storm clouds were bearing down on them between mountain peaks.

"If we don't get moving, we'll all die to the incoming storm." He dug through his pack, pulling out both tunics. "Use what we can spare. I'll see about making something to carry the unconscious in."

"Can't we just create some sort of sled?" Necro piped up.

He shook his head. "I don't want to risk being caught in the storm longer than we'll already be in it; I can cross terrain a sled or any sort of contraption can't. Once we have shelter we can craft one for after the storm where we have more time."

"You can't carry all of us," Gilla countered but it was almost undescernable; her teeth were chattering so bad that she almost couldn't speak, quaking like a leave in a gail.

"Going to try, anyways," he offered simply.

"Garlock," Tuunux tried but the word was slurred and what shivering had come over the other's body was already slowing. Necro's expression was taut with worry, tiny hands quaking like the rest of his body.

"I'm carrying you all and that's final." His expression softened. "The movement will keep me a bloody furnace. It'll at least make it harder for you all to succumb to the cold."

If there had been any more desire to protest, no one had the energy for it. With quaking hands assisting, he got the two unconscious bound to his chest. Tuunux was tucked in between the two when it became apparent that his range of motion was now very limited. The others wiggled their way into the fabric crossing his back. Anything that could be saved was consolidated into one bag that those on his back used to help brace themselves with.

It was going to be a long walk.

He hoped they found shelter soon.

The blizzard came in without warning. Or maybe he had been too focused on keeping his footing weighted down by his company and exhausted. All he knew was when the first of it slammed into his face, it had woken him up briefly, brought him out of his stuppor enough to realize that everyone was getting worse, himself included. That awareness wained and he fell back into the trance of continued motion. There had to be something for them to use as shelter, something they would find soon. They couldn't die out in the middle of some woods who knew how far from home. He wouldn't allow it.

He stumbled to a stop, blinking against the snow pelting him in the face. There was a humanoid standing ahead of him, hair looking as if it were fire in the wind and expression curious, cautious. Kind. There was no way, he had to be-it had to be a-

"Dream" slipped off his tongue and he didn't notice. The figure did.

[Alura]

Spoiler: WEEK 1 - Whims of Destiny 

|Words| Dream, Conflict, Edge, Victory, Apple

Hope stood dreaming in the Chamber of the Fates, a golden apple dangling from her fingertips. Below her bright face was spread out the far corners of the world, a map of every living thing writ within its borders. She was not alone in her witnessing. The Fates had little interest in the affairs of man and beast once their destinies were woven until it became time again for their threads to be cut.

In the time between birth and death, it was left to her and her comrades to carry out the destinies laid out for those who lived within the world below. It was a common misconception amongst those mortal beings that life was immutable, unchangeable: that a destiny, once elected for them, was impossible to change. Within this chamber, the demigods pulled their strings, moving them to and fro in an effort to win their gambles with each other and to maintain the world as a whole. After all, the one-eyed Fates could hardly be expected to see everything.

There was no good nor evil, no help nor harm amongst their number because those concepts rested solely in mortal minds who could not fathom that everything within the tapestry of the world was so interconnected that it all balanced - eventually.

Chin perched on the backs of her fingers, Hope continued to twirl the perfect little apple and studied the amassing number of lives gathering at the edge of the map. Over them, bent in deep disagreement were Conflict and Victory. The gleaming armour of the latter gave her a sharpness to her features as she stood nose-to-nose conversing with the darkly-cowled, skeletal frame of Conflict.

As the factions in the mass of living things crashed into one another, Conflict's skeletal frame seemed to grow shape, bulking into the form of a warrior. His hands that had been wizened were now gripping the edge of the little wall that lined the map's well with considerable strength. Victory seemed unsure at the change in her companion, eyes roving the battles below for her chosen champions.

Hope sighed, in her dreaming hearing the prayers and silent wishes of those who fought despite their comrades falling around them. Her eyes winnowed through the chaos to the hill where two kings fought, locked blade-on-blade. In the king who had come to conquer was filled with determination and ambition. Envy leaned over the edge of the map with his eyes as eager for the king to obtain his sought power as the man himself. The other king threw back his own strength, his own wish for his people rising to Hope's ears as he fought to defend the welfare of his people from the would-be tyrant.

With sad eyes, she regarded him, saw Victory cast her favour to the enemy of the old king and felt the light go out of him as, betrayed by his own right hand he was run through from behind and fell kneeling to the field. The one he had trusted perhaps most in the world, had betrayed him for wealth and the promises of the invader. The old ruler's bright eyes darkened, his faith in the light of Hope waning as she also waned, her glowing features growing ethereal, pale. The golden apple fell from her fingers and rolled heavily to the feet of Chance, who took it up in his nimble fingers and brought it to her, holding her elbow for support.

Hope turned her eyes to his face, which seemed somehow old and young at once as it shifted even as she looked upon it - never quite the same as it had been only the prior moment gone. He pressed a long finger to his lips, winking towards the map as the old king's men, driven by his fall, roused to a second wind and fought as if possessed. They felled the traitor and swept away the would-be king and his armies in their indignation, carrying the invading wave and their allies all the way back beyond their borders. There was no spotless king, but the old king was so loved by his people that as they turned toward home having avenged him, the light of Hope shone through their battle-weary faces. As their belief grew, so too did Hope's light, radiating around the Chamber of Fates like a beacon.

With a gracious smile, she pressed the golden apple into Chance's hand, a token for his favour. Victory laughed and slapped Conflict's thinning shoulder, but Envy and Conflict eyed the unlikely pair through narrowed eyes. In the hall of the old king his son would take his crown and the cycle would begin anew. The Fates who had cut his thread and removed him from the map would weave him again into the tapestry. They were fascinating in that way, mortals, every end simply another beginning...

[ArtisticVicu]

Spoiler: What If - Part 2 | Week 2 | AsharaSahara 

{"Storm's coming in fast."}

The thick Dwarvish wasn't directed at him but it drew his attention anyway. He turned his gaze from the caravan trailing behind them towards the stout man at his side. {"Something we need to stop for?"} he asked, looking to the clouds that had brought the comment out. {"Or are we close enough to keep on pressing through?"}

The man sighed, a sharp breath released as a huff. {"The elk will be fine with the weather, as will your moose,"} he couldn't help the small amused smile under that sharp look, {"and seeing as all of them know where home is, we'll be fine. I'm more concerned about those of the caravan than anything else."}

{"I can go give them a heads up,"} he offered, already standing from the bench.

{"Be quick about it. I'm not stopping our progress for people to prepare for it."}

"Verla," he spoke out, stepping to the very edge of the driver's perch. There was a snort and a thumping before a set of massive antlers passed dangerously close to his face. He grabbed at the base and stepped off. A huff of air and his handhold tipped in the direction he was going, assuring he landed on the back of the massive moose. He gave the shoulders a pat looking back at the sledge he had just left. "We'll be back."

The stout man waved him off as the moose turned towards the back of the caravan.

There were a good thirty bodies in among the six vehicle caravan following their sledge. Years of guiding through the fall snows had allowed them to perfect the vehicles they led with and what temporary fixtures they added to the vehicles that followed. The sight of all six vehicles still following at a good pace, the elk herd a drifting guard and pulling where the horses had gotten overburdened, the chatter from high spirits on the air, and even the random bits of laundry still flapping in the fall air pulled a smile to his face. The moose meandered down the line leaving him to talk with the drivers and other bodies.

Word of the coming storm was received well, almost like it had been expected. He wasn't overly surprised. Most caravans they led had some experience reading the weather and the confirmation of the coming storm was welcomed happily. He had Verla loop around the last vehicle before urging the beast into a quicker pace to catch back up to the front.

Some of the elk drifted close enough for pets. They had enough awareness of themselves to keep the points of their antlers from scraping against him or the moose he rode leaving him content to offer pets and rubs when asked as they moved up the line. By the time he reached the sledge again, the sky had darkened considerably.

"Get the lanterns and torches out of the back," the stout man directed once he was within earshot. "Circle the herd and start lighting them. I'll mount them."

He reached forward and pulled on the right antler, getting the moose to bump up against the side of the sledge. The wooden bed of the sledge was solid underfoot as he let out a sharp, shifting pitch whistle. The herd immediately reacted. Those not harnessed started moving towards the sledge. He moved to the front where the canvas had been bundled over the remaining supplies. He moved the canvas to the side out of range. Fire filled his palm, well controlled and warm. With quick, practiced work, he started lighting and passing the small lanterns over the front board onto the driver bench. From there they were snatched up and hung on the antlers of any elk that walked up within range of the stout man.

He slotted two torches into their place at the front of the sledge and lit them as the last few lanterns were strung on the moose's antlers.

"Start with mine and go down the line."

A routine statement, a reminder, and he nodded as he pulled himself back onto the moose's back. "Shouldn't take too long."

"Keep near the rear and keep an eye on the herd. I'm going to be busy enough at the head to worry about-"

He had just removed his hands from the lanterns now hung in the hitched elk's antlers when he saw it too. The entire caravan stopped at the will of the beasts, the older of the herd spotting the change immediately alongside him and the stout man.

Off to their left there was an unnatural light and a shift in the air. The pass they were traversing was not one hit by bandits because it was difficult to get to and even worse to get out of without a seasoned guide. But there were weapons tucked under the driver's bench and in the bed of the sledge for a reason; even bandits - albeit generally stupid ones - could find a guide into the pass to rob an unsuspecting caravan.

Magic, though, meant something beyond their normal encounters.

{"White Dragon?"} the stout man questioned.

{"No. Too bright. And it wasn't anything the other colors produce either. It's something else."}

There was a huff from the stout man. {"Should have listened to your mother and had you bring Talla with you."}

He grinned at that, despite the situation. {"Seemed stupid even to me, dad, what with taking nearly the whole herd with us."}

{"Take one of the elk and go check it out, make sure it wasn't a signal for help. I'll get Beckett to take the reins and be right behind you."}

He slid back into the bed of the sledge and quickly pulled out his equipment from the hidden compartment. He pulled off the rabbit fur lined cape and pulled the hood of his parka up with the same motion in order to pull his pack on into place. He fastened one of his short swords under it near his lower back before pulling the cape back on. It had barely settled over his shoulders before he was pulling the string of his longbow across his chest. The other short sword stayed in his hand as he tugged a harness from among the remaining supplies.

One of the older elk trained for this very kind of handling let him strap the harness into place. It wasn't much that a few strips of leather across the chest and shoulders for holding equipment and allowing for a handhold. It came with a halter and reins that barely got a reaction out of the elk. As soon as the second short sword was secured to the elk's side, he was up onto the beast's back.

The elk turned and took off towards the source of all their wariness. The small lanterns well strapped into place swung around from both the elk's movement and the beginnings of the storm following him. Snow curled around them, quickly increasing as the storm moved overhead.

The elk slowed and he let it. He straightened, looking about for signs of anything that could have given off the burst of light. So far, beyond the swirling snow and pressing wind, the forest was rather normal.

The elk came to a complete stop, snorting in distaste and stomping a hoof against the snow covered ground. Whatever was ahead of them wasn't something the elk was going to approach. He slid from the beast's back, patting its shoulder as he unclipped the reins. If the beast got spooked or a threat was truly there, he wasn't about to be responsible for it getting caught in its attempt to flee.

Besides, snow didn't make a good coffin.

He shoved the hood of his parka off his head letting his body warm up to counter the biting wind. He knew it turned his dark red hair into a lighter hue, causing to to appear more like fire, but right now he wanted a wider field of view and it wasn't like anyone was going to see him.

Movement off his left drew his gaze and he stilled to a stop. A form was trudging towards him through the storm - a massive form - but he could make out the elk still standing where he had left it out of the corner of his eye. The massive form continued its approach before coming to a sudden stop several meters away.

The snow thinned out revealing the form to be an orc - an orc, he realized, laden with small forms that looked to be almost goblin.

A garbled word in a language he didn't recognize drifted towards him as he met the orc's gaze with a steady, curious one of his own. He was hesitant, uneasy, but the orc didn't appear to be in the mood - or condition if those were massive injuries he was seeing - to attack him. It was certainly a strange gift from the mountains but he could work with it.

[ArtisticVicu]

Spoiler: What If - Part 3 | Week 3 | AsharaSahara 

The figure's amber gaze seemed to meet his over the distance between them for a moment before the stillness between them was broken by something off to the figure's left.

The figure looked towards the disturbance, entire body shifting with the motion as something that rolled like Dwarvish fell from those lips. A massive horned beast walked out of the trees and right up to the figure, pressing its round nose into a raised, waiting hand. A second figure was on top of the massive horned beast and the figure's gaze was on him immediately, tense and distrusting. More Dwarvish filled the air as the second figure spoke and he found himself wishing he had learned the language.

The first figure spoke again and the roll of Dwarvish seemed almost Elvish, the gruffness of the language fluid like water in a way he had never heard before.

Or weightless like the fire the figure's hair mimicked.

If there was a frown on his face, he didn't feel it. The wind was still pressing snow into his face and it blurred his view and he was certain it was making him see things; hair didn't glow like fire, especially on those that appeared so...human.

A second, different horned beast approached from where the first horned beast had come from. Unlike the larger which had a full saddle set on, the second had only a simple leather harness. The figure with the fire hair reached around the larger beast to take control of the smaller as the conversation continued briefly in Dwarvish.

He blinked and suddenly the scene changed. The figure with fire hair was approaching as the other was checking the saddle set now on the smaller beast. The larger was trudging through the snow behind the fire haired figure without a lead.

The figure said something in Dwarvish he didn't understand. The pause was brief before the figure offered, "Do you understand Common?"

"I speak Common," he confirmed, though his tongue felt fat in his mouth and the words sounded odd.

The figure's expression brightened. He realized their hair wasn't much like fire now that they were closer. "This is Verla, a moose we take care of as part of our elk herd. He'll be carrying you back to the sledge." Those amber eyes flickered over his person. "And a few of your companions, though it may be best that a few of them go with my dad."

"Dad?"

The figure turned and called a word out in Dwarvish. The second figure looked their way before wandering over. A few quick words from the first and the second figure was looking at him with more ease than he was expecting to receive. The words that followed were just as gruff as the Dwarvish but they were warm, welcoming. "You have a few companions that are injured, yourself included. We have a sledge for you and yours to ride in but we have to get to it first. I can take a few of your companions with me to help your ride on Verla be more comfortable and safe but we won't force anything."

He looked to the first figure and gained a soft smile. "Up to you but it's a long walk back to the sledge and you look bout ready to collapse."

The impulse to show these strangers otherwise nearly won out against his common sense that knew they were right. He was exhausted and numb from the cold; any pain his body should have been in was buried beneath that numbness. "The assistance would be appreciated," he finally voiced.

Somehow the first figure lost tension he hadn't even realized they had been carrying, offering him a large grin. "Let me help my dad get settled on the elk with a few of your companions and we'll get you situated with the moose."

There was a whistle that made him wince but he barely noticed. The stout second figure was up in the saddle on the elk in a flash and all the first figure seemed to do was keep the elk steady and check buckles.

The beast snorted when the first figure directed it to stand broadside to him close enough that the stout figure on its back could stretch out and touch his chest without falling out of the saddle. "How many companions do you have on you?" the stout figure asked.

"Six."

"All goblin?" He nodded, his tongue failing him. "Do you want me to take those on your back or your front? Any specific you wish to ride with?"

The arm he had across his front tightened. He didn't want to give any of them up but if it would help... "Back."

"Soren."

The first figure moved to him, hand going to his arm. "Keep still for us. I'm going to walk the elk behind you and it'll be easier to keep it from scratching you with its antlers if you don't make any sudden moves." There was a noise, like a click, and the figure started to guide the elk around him. He kept them in his line of sight as best he could and watched as they were able to coax the three goblins from his back. Worry pulled at him when Gilla was pulled away without waking. The lack of reaction from the other two spoke how dangerously cold they were. The first came back to his front as the elk started off. A second elk stepping around the moose startled him but the figure was already talking, bringing the moose broadside to him. "Mount up; I've got him. He'll take your weight just fine."

The world tipped the wrong way when he tried the first time. The figure's body was suddenly against his hip, against his side keeping him upright at the moose's flank. "Easy," drifted into his awareness, calm, reassuring, and encouraging. "Try again."

He managed to get up the second time.

He blinked and the figure was up on the back of the second elk. In fact, there were a number of elk just standing around watching. Another sharp whistle and the entire gathering started off towards the elk that had already left.

Whether it was the movement of the moose or sheer exhaustion he wasn't sure but he jolted awake at the sudden voice at his right and the hand on his arm gripping tight enough for him to feel. "Hey. Stay awake just a bit longer for me. I can make out the caravan through the trees; we're almost there. Once you're in the bed of the sledge, you can sleep all you want."

The caravan was a seven vehicle train scattered with elk and people. Those that caught sight of him first tensed and fell into defensive postures. For whatever reason it brought his thoughts sluggishly around to the possibilities of having gotten himself and his company into worse trouble. Though, as they were, he doubted they would have any value on any market.

"Stoick! What's the meaning of this!" the caravan driver of the second vehicle shouted, weapon in hand.

"Calm down, Hubert," the stout figure barked, already at the sledge at the front of the line. The entire caravan finally came to a halt. "They're injured and need as much help as you."

"You can't be serious thinking of helping a-"

There was a pounding of hooves before a snorting elk reared to a stop before the shouter. The first figure glared at the caravan driver. "You are more than welcome to continue on your own but without our elk and their lights, you won't make it out of here with this storm."

The words had been spoken but they affected the driver as if the figure had yelled. The driver conceded without another word. He caught sight of another driver pressing a hand against the butterfly emblem that marked all but the front vehicle as if it could offer support.

The moose stopped at the side of the sledge and the stout figure turned to face him. Already the three from his back were tucked under several furs near the front. "Alright. On you get before they throw much more of a fit." The stout figure reached up towards him as if they would be able to support him if he fell. The figure's next words weren't directed to him, though. "Soren, hitch Verla up once their clear. Might as well put the blasted beast to use."

"On it," the first figured called in return.

"When you're done, get back here and keep them warm. These furs and canvas are not going to be enough."

The wood of the sledge was cold but it was dry and far warmer than the snow. The smell reminded him of the occasional voyage over the waters for those few random reasons and he succumbed to sleep with thoughts of open waters and the rocking of a ship beneath him as the caravan started to move again.

[ArtisticVicu]

Spoiler: What If - Part 4 | Week 4 | AsharaSahara 

He guided the elk up to the moose's side as his dad reached out towards the orc. "Soren, hitch Verla up once their clear. Might as well put the blasted beast to use."

The orc slid to his knees in the bed of the sledge; the only reason the orc remained upright was due to the stout figure's sturdy support.

"On it," he responded, already grabbing for Verla's antler.

"When you're done, get back here and keep them warm. These furs and canvas are not going to be enough."

The swap between elk and moose was rather simple. Verla snorted at the harness going on but didn't throw much more of a fit. He offered soft praises as he worked, grateful the large beast was cooperating. The itch to hitch a second beast to the sledge had his hands undoing the leathers on the elk his dad had ridden on; they didn't have a second harness and the sledge didn't have the right setup for a team pull.

A string of Dwarven words drew his attention to the back of the sledge as he tucked his short sword under the arm now laden with riding tack. The stout man had been swift throwing up what they called the tent top - a treated canvas stretched over crossed poles creating a shallow dome top to the sledge bed - but his gaze glanced over it at the thud behind the sledge became more important. The stout man walked out from behind the sledge, grumbling to himself in Dwarvish.

{"Dad?"}

The man's gaze met his with ease and he could clearly see the worry under the thick beard and fur lined hood the man had pulled up. {"Do what you can for the smaller of them. We're close enough that I'm not worried about attacks but I don't know if some of the smaller will live long enough if you don't act. I've done what I can for the big one."}

{"All my magic?"} he clarified.

{"You can cast Cure Wounds six times. There's six of them."}

He nodded. With quick steps, he was around the back of the sledge and sliding into the bed. A tremor went through the wood signaling the instant that Verla took the weight of the sledge and the snow lost its hold on the runners.

He tucked the tack and weapons against the left wall before moving on his hands and knees under the low ceiling towards the goblins. He looked the orc over as he settled next to the small gathering of bodies. There were only three pieces of fur on the sledge - they hadn't planned on needing more with a caravan in tow - and none of the pieces were anywhere near big enough for an orc. His dad had put the largest piece over the orc but that still left a good amount of the stranger's body uncovered.

The cape was unclasped and draped over the orc automatically and he swiftly followed it with his parka turned inside out. Unlike the cape, the parka was sewn closed so he couldn't drape it like a proper blanket but he hoped turning it inside out made it a bit warmer. Stripped down to his light tunic, he let his body naturally react to not being as insulated. Heat started to roll from him and he paid the changes - his skin darkening, eyes changing color, hair behaving and looking more like fire - that came with it no mind; there were more important things to fret about while no one could see him.

Cure Wounds was one of the spells he had picked up as a Ranger but he was still learning and he knew the six casts - even the two casts that would be with boosted strength - would not be enough. He took quick stock of the goblins as the makeshift space warmed up and started with the two that were the worst off, giving them the boosted casts.

He just hoped it was enough to get them home.

The tent top made it impossible for him to track where they were on the road so when he felt the sledge come to a stop, he hoped that meant they had made it back. The small space had warmed up nicely, allowing him to suppress his fire and return himself to the more human appearance the caravan had seen. Two of the goblins were still shivering and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. The others had all stilled after shivering for some time - a good sign that the body was warming back up.

Voices bounded around outside the tent top and he perked up at the sounds. Recognizing his brother and sister immediately, he moved to the back of the sledge and poked his head out just as his sister rounded the right corner.

"No room in the house for them," she informed him as soon as she caught his gaze, "so we'll get them situated in the barn."

She stepped up onto the small bit of runner at the back of the sledge as the vehicle started moving again, wrapped around the canvas rope. He asked, "Fanel's helping, then? Or did Dad send him off to a different task?"

"Dad wanted him to wrangle the elk but Sasha volunteered so he'll be helping setting up the large stall."

He smiled at that. It did not surprise him his sister-in-law had jumped at the chance of handling the elk. Out of the entire family, she was the one that had the easiest time handling the elk.

No direction was given yet he and his siblings fell into tasks like a well oiled machine. Once they passed through the barn doors, it took less than ten minutes to prep the large stall and move their injured guests into it. Their mom appeared with their younger sister as they had been working, taking to the injured as best they could with what skills they had.

He wandered back into the barn over two hours later. Once the guests had been settled, normal duties took priority and he hated how long it had taken to settle things with the caravan that was continuing on to town without them - putting the sledge, animals, and gear away had taken far less time. The inside of the barn was a quiet utopia after the caravan mess. All the animals were content outside in the snow so the only sound came from the soft wind against the walls and any noise their guests made.

He came to a stop at the stall door, fingers automatically tracing over the carved star on the inside edge a four-year-old Fanel had carved into the wood during the barn's construction. Numerous furs and blankets hid the majority of the fresh hay the seven strangers were resting upon, each of which were buried under mounds of furs and fabrics to stave off any remaining cold for the night. His family had been quick to make room in the house for the injured but it had been decided to wait for the storm to pass before they risked moving them again.

The hay gave slightly underfoot and the layers of material muffled the sound as he moved closer to check them each over.

One of the goblins was still shivering. Buried so well under the furs and blankets, the sound of chattering teeth hadn't reached him until he had moved the coverings enough to check the goblin. He pressed his free hand to the crown of the goblin's head and very carefully, very slowly, warmed his hand up.

It took a good few minutes but the shivering ebbed before stopping completely. He made a mental note of which one it was before tucking the covers back up around the goblin; his mom had sent him in to check and that was something she would want to know as much as he could tell her. He finished his round of the goblins before turning to the orc.

They had removed weapons, armor, and gear from all the injured in an attempt to allow them the most comfort while resting. Even then, they had made sure to put the personal belongings within sight and within easy reach. His siblings hadn't understood why at first, had questioned their dad's decision, but he had recognized the gesture immediately.

He sat down next to the orc, gaze drifting over the stranger's lax expression.

Maybe he understood because he had grown up on the move hopping from caravan to caravan before his dad had settled here and knew how someone waking up in a foreign place often reacts.

His gaze drifted but the covers hid the orc's scarred bandaged body.

Unfortunately, whatever history their guests had would be the largest factor in how the seven would react and he hoped that if there was any instinct to fight immediately upon waking up would be curbed by proximity with personal belongings and each other.