Please forgive my siblings, they mean no offense, honest. We're all just... really scared. -- Anon Guest
Fear does interesting things. Some cry, some freeze; some, like the small child repeatedly trying to kick his leg, attacked. The repetitive ding, ding, ding of small wooden clogs against featherstar plate[1] indicated that this particular toddler was going to protect their family or go down trying.
A reasonable reaction for a small family of Tieflings when encountering a paladin.
Sir Gard of Brightshield looked down at the child kicking his greaves and said, "You'll break your shoes before you dent my armour, little cousin."
"Good sir, please don't hurt them?" begged the eldest sibling. Ze was almost covered entirely in knotted rags. "We are no harm." This was true in spite of their demonic heritage. Gard could see that they were starving and desperate even before the dragon had laid waste to the area.
"I know," said Gard. Instead of drawing a sword, he drew some simple bread from his belt pouch. Something that would take a great deal of chewing, and thus slow these kids down so they wouldn't make themselves sick. He scooped up the toddler and put the bread directly into their mouth. "I came looking for survivors. You fit three the bill." He produced two more small loaves for them. And one for himself, to show them it wasn't poisoned.
The fact that he was cradling the youngest helped his reputation immensely.
The middling one, alternately gnawing on the bread and searching the area for anything they could use as a weapon, asked, "Why'd you call 'em cousin? We're not your blood."
"You haven't seen my family," Gard worked on his own bit of bread, taking his ease on a melted fragment of a former building. "We're a very mixed bunch where I'm from. All manner of misfits. Including a kid just like your little sibling here, who began in dirt and tatters and stolen things."
"We don't steal," snapped the eldest. "We're not thieving Tieflings."
"I'm sure these perfectly made clogs just found their way into your possession," said Gard. "The rich people throw away anything, don't they?"
"Threw it at my head," said the middling one. "Not theirs no more, and Dandelion's stepped on enough sharps."
Young Dandelion looked up towards their adopted sibling at the mention of their name, but never stopped attacking their bread. Ferocious little mite. Tenacious and determined, just like their namesake.
Gard offered a hand to them. "Pleased to meet you, cousin Dandelion. My name is Gard."
"Do you?" challenged the eldest.
"Frequently. Virtue names aren't just for the devil-born, you know."
The eldest and the middling exchanged looks. A brief, non-verbal argument that included the bread and the fact that they were all still alive.
The middling one said, "Dawn."
The eldest said, "Morrow."
"Did any of you see which way the dragon went?" asked Gard. "I'm part of a group looking to stop it."
"We were in an old cellar. It got bright and hot in the middle of the night."
"Ceiling dripped molten lead," said Morrow. "If it weren't for the cauldron..."
Tieflings were only resistant against fire. They could burn, but it took longer. Indeed, some of the scars on the older two spoke of recent encounters with hot lead. Their bare feet and tails both bore wounds, but little Dandelion was without a blemish. Which told another story.
Gard could easily picture the three of them, cauldron over their heads, baby in their arms, skipping and racing to avoid the worst of it. Taking any hurt to protect the most vulnerable among them.
"I can't promise you an easy life," he said, "but I can promise you more than what you had. A safe home, regular meals. Clothes that are made for you. You don't have to be alone any more."
They switched to their infernal tongue. "He fed us and he hasn't killed us. Should we trust him?" asked Dawn.
"Seems a waste to kill us after feeding us. He knows our names. Only a true bastard would ask someone's name before killing them."
Gard also spoke the demon's language. "All I can do is keep my word to you, and keep keeping my word. Is that enough?"
The look on their little faces was priceless.
[1] a blending of the flexible feathermetal and the hardy but friable starmetal. Feathermetal is bauxite rendered by the fire of a dragon, but starmetal is only found when comets crash into the ground.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Apriori]
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