A large band of rowdy adventurers came across a large village of those normally viewed as 'unwelcome ones'. They drop their swords, shields, and armor, seeing the village's main bridge was washed out in the last storm, and get to work helping clear debris and cutting wood so the village can have its bridge back. Others of the large band go to help the fields until the main group of villagers can get back out there, safely. -- BKF
They say that fools rush in where the divine dare not tread. Whoever coined that phrase had surely observed Adventurers plying their trade. Indeed, this particular band of fools, Ruphord's Roughs, had rushed in to help a storm-blighted village without once asking what it was a village of. Or why all the houses were on an island in the middle of a fast-flowing river, where the only way in or out was a drawbridge.
That drawbridge - or most of it - was some leagues downriver after the storm had rent it to splinters. The villagers were fine, but they were cut off from their fields and orchards by the rushing water.
The villagers were also Halfbreds, Harukh'ai, and Hellkin.
Amazingly, Ruphord's Roughs didn't even notice until they were halfway through setting up the new trusses. It was then that the varied members of Ruphord's Roughs noticed that the villagers working at their sides had tusks, tails, or baby points to their ears. Or combinations of the above.
There was a fraction of a moment of alarm. Spreading amongst the Adventurers like a wave. At least they had the presence of mind to realise that the Unwelcome in this village weren't doing anything to attack. They weren't hostile, and many of them were using the words, "thank you" as a kind of verbal punctuation.
After all, manners are a literally vital necessity when the world is literally out to get you.
It was when the day was done, and the drawbridge restored, that the villagers gathered quietly in the main square. They had yet to harvest their crops or gather their fruit. Parents shushed their children and comforted them as much as they could. Children clutched at their parents, pets, or their favourite poppets. Spouses and lovers clutched at each other. Almost all of them were weeping.
An elderly Halfbred Harukh limped to the confused Adventurers with the help of a cane. "We know your kind," they croaked. "You're made to kill monsters, and the world calls us such. If you're going to do it, do it quick and have that much mercy. If not... well. We'd appreciate it if you never told any other Adventurers where we are.
Ruphord hirself was staring at a dog licking the tears of a tiny Hellkin child that held the beast around its neck. Ze put hir sword away. "Your secret is safe with us. Live in peace and be well."
That was when they began the festival of thanks.
[Photo by Spencer Liao on Unsplash]
If you like my stories, please Check out my blog and Follow me. Or share them with your friends! Or visit my hub site to see what else I'm up to.
My Prompt Forum is currently down, but if you want to send me a prompt, post it on my Discord's emergency prompt supply.