They were Tieflings and Aasimars, siblings all, who went from place to place. They gathered the unwanted children that others refused to care for, and brought them to a massive, special, boarding school that ensured the children were loved, cared for, got a good education, and learned to see all beings as equals, no matter who, or what, they were. To judge on personality and actions, rather than species. -- Anon Guest
The Plane of Torment and the Plane of Boons are in eternal conflict. This is known. One of their perpetual battlegrounds is the mortal realm, as evidenced by the spawn they leave to mortal parents. It may surprise many to learn that the hallowed and the demonic alike are born in equal measure to mortals.
They have varying forces working against them, no matter which side spawned them.
One might think that those born to boons would be more valued. One would be thinking incorrectly. Many view an Aasimar child as just as much ill luck as a Tiefling. The other side will be aiming to harm them, and anyone else nearby.
It was unjust and unfair, and honestly unmerited. Something had to be done. Someone had to do something.
Picture if you will, two kind hands. Each one supports a small bundle of infant, intelligent life. The person attached to the arms has a score to settle with the universe at large. This is how it starts.
Picture two swaddled infants, one dark and the other glowing faintly. They're nestled side by side in a basket by a fireplace. Fast asleep and dreaming baby dreams. The kind hands that held them are busy making something larger than a basket. Babies grow, and this is also known.
Picture these babies grown. They have been fed the same, raised the same, and taught the same by the kind soul who first held them. They are rewarded when they do well, and taught better ways when they make a mistake. They are strong in many ways. They are siblings. They are arms against a sea of troubles.
"You each have two kind hands," insists their parent. "Find others like the two of you. One of each, and bring them back for care and shelter."
It was kindness by way of a pyramid scheme. The shelter grew, as the needs dictated. The house in the woods far away from superstition became a sort of mansion. Room by room. Need by need. One adopted family at a time.
There was always someone working on it.
It had a nursery. It had a classroom. It had an indoor playroom with both soft furnishings and exercise structures. Part of it was a tree[1] and there was a swing hanging from one of the branches.
There was always a cauldron of stew cooking somewhere. Always bread being baked.
Two by two, supposedly opposing forces went out to improve the world. Either by taking in the abandoned or neglected, or by going out and helping others. Two kind hands can do a lot to help. Even doing the dishes.
When they heard of the Honour Guard, they became an affiliate. Not necessarily the enforcing arm, but mopping up the mess as it happened.
They are... the Fostered.
They have many gifts, from both order and chaos. From both torment and boon. They do many kind things, but that never, ever makes them weak.
It takes a special kind of strength to persist in doing kindnesses. Those who oppose the Fostered will learn.
[1] Wraithvine visited and decided to make some improvements.
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