She was a nanny who was required to care for a Tiefling child. She disliked Tieflings, the whole race were nothing but demons, but her lord ordered it. It was his daughter after all. The child rarely got smiles, save from her parents, rarely got a kind word, except her parents, and then a stranger came to the palace and gave the nanny a hard, cold, lesson in caring for children. One the nanny ever forgot, especially after what that man did, and now she had horns and tail, too. -- Anon Guest
Goodie Hardweather had to obey the word of her lord. It was, in some ways, her own fault for having a good reputation for fostering so many otherwise unwanted children. According to the good word, she took in all sorts. Half-elves, Half-orcs, even Goblinoids and Kobolds. She took in all sorts, except one. Tieflings. She just couldn't stand those little demon-spawned devils. Monsters, every single one of them.
But now, because of that good word, she had to look after one of those horrible little creatures. The young Duchess Merrimeet Goldstaff Crucible VonSchaulten, fourth of her name, had sharp teeth and claws to match. She bore crooked, twisted horns and a wickedly evident tail that lashed about at all times. Only her parents spoke of her golden skin or luminous emerald eyes that were slotted like a goat. Her parents were busy, running the Duchy. Which was why his lordship had sought out the kindest and most generous woman in the realm to be the young Duchess' nurse.
Goodie Hardweather immediately set about fixing the little monster to at least attempt to be less monstrous. Every day, there were rigid and firm lessons about being more human than she was. Couched, of course, in the formalities of also being a lady. "A lady does not permit others to see her teeth," Hardweather snapped. Or, "A lady would hide that tail under her skirts." Little could be done about the horns. Thank the many gods for the invention of fashionable hats. Elaborate braids could conceal the devils' points of her ears, but no power on this world or beyond could make Hardweather touch that black void she called hair. Then that damnable Cleric arrived.
An advocate of Tyr should be more in tune with the law, but this particular fellow sided with the less fashionable aspect of that worship: Justice. In all other aspects, he seemed to be a decent and upstanding fellow. An Elf of some four centuries and change in age. His slit blue eyes focused a little too intensely on the noble family he served and there were discussions to which Goodie Hardweather was not privy.
Something had to have happened, had to be revealed in those light teas in the garden. Hardweather knew it in the way the three adults glared at her as the young Duchess cowed when Hardweather arrived.
Hardweather knew she was as polite and formal as always. She knew how to be gracious in the presence of nobility. Her attention was for the young Duchess. "Grace and poise, your ladyship," she said, careful to maintain the tones of a gentle reminder. The hard whip of more bitter words was for when she was far, far away from the lord and his lady. "Back straight. Chin up." Hardweather didn't notice the Cleric following along on far softer feet.
She didn't know he was there until he struck. Coming out of nowhere with, "So now I have found the source of her young ladyships digestive upsets. In the name of Tyr, I call for justice."
It might not have been a Cleric's spell, per se, but it was certainly a miracle.
"The unkindness you visit on others shall be entirely yours to experience," he said. "You are that which you hate. May you learn from this."
The next time Goodie Hardweather looked in the mirror, she smashed it with her fist. The beast that looked back was not her. Would never be her. Yet it was how the world would see her until her dying day.
Blood red skin. Enormous, obvious, twisted horns. Jet black hair. Eyes of flame. Talons. Hooves... and worst of all, the traitorous, jagged, tripping tail.
Her grace, the young Duchess Merry VonSchaulten IV helped Hardweather comb her hair, and remained kind to her.
Above all the cruelties that Cleric had visited on Hardweather, that had to be the worst.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / fotokita]
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