They were a traveling merchant, a human and hir family. Any place they went, they were always kind, without asking anything in return, to those that were considered unwelcome or unwanted. They did not follow any gods, nor were part of any temple. It's just been their family's tradition for many generations. And it helped in times when they, themselves, needed aid. -- Anon Guest
The wagon went from place to place. Selling medicine. Selling cures. Selling a certain amount of curiosities. Some, who came in desperate need, got their treatment for free. Regardless of species.
Help for those in trouble, without cost or question. They would defraud the wealthy, but they were often their own problem and ignorant with it. Everyone else got what they needed at a price they could afford.
It was no shock that the lords ran them off their land in a matter of days.
Today, they were stuck with a broken axle on the side of a road less traveled. The strong one was chopping down a tree that would suit as a new one. The capable was cooking a meal. The small ones were gathering firewood and herbs or, in the case of the tiniest one, bringing in creatures they had caught with their net.
Some were let loose. Some were placed into cages or containers. Some were killed as quickly as possible. Either for food or to eliminate a menace. There was no need to panic, even though they were on a less-known road. Either help would come, or they would help themselves.
As the sun began to crawl towards its rest, another traveler came to their camp. A Hellkin who had used to have a limp before the medicine from this family of merchants. Without a word, he put his pack down near the camp, unslung his bow, and went into the woods, arrow nocked.
An hour later, he returned with a brace of hares and a cluster of birds.
By then three others had found them to help with the wagon. One to lift it. One to brace it. One to help with the making of the new axle.
The Hellkin of the hunt scribed some runes onto a piece of birchbark. "You engrave the wood with these sigils. Refresh them with a piece of amber for two turns of Mother Moon... the wood will fix itself from any crack or break."
Kindness sent out returns threefold and more.
[Photo by Mockup Graphics on Unsplash]
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