Several bullies have a spell put on them so that they're forced to feel what their victims felt when being bullied. Save for the adult who had nothing but hate in their heart, everyone else learns their lessons well. -- Anon Guest
Parents say it to their children all the time. The Faekindred will get you. A general warning to play by the rules, stay close, and otherwise behave oneself. A mishap immediately after an ill-willed action or statement is said to be a Faekindred's revenge.
In a world where Brauniin pride themselves on helping mortals in secret, it's not too far from the truth. They number among the few Faekindred who are actively interested in helping mortals with little in the way of reward. They usually limit themselves to small acts. Finding or mislaying small items. Finishing a work left half-done.
One... got hold of a little power.
Call hir Nudibranch. Ze has "creatively borrowed" a spell from the Faeries. All for the sake of hir friend, a devilborn child who honestly believed their name was Trash. Trash did not have very much at all, but shared it anyway. That sort of thing definitely earned the Faekindred's kinder feeling.
As Trash slept, stomach still rumbling, Nudibranch activated a Faerie Blessing.
"Let all that come to you return to them as gift it, threefold," ze whispered. "Kindness gifted be repaid with good luck to the giver. Malice given repaid with ill fortune in kind. Until all who treat thee learn their lesson."
Thunder rolled, and Trash startled at the noise, moving to protect their only friend from their own nightmares. Nudibranch let hirself bask in the comfort for a little while before warming hir friend against the chill of the night.
The real fun would start the next day.
Nudibranch remained invisible to all other eyes as Trash went into the little town to look for otherwise unwanted food and dropped coppers in the street. Ze usually tripped the local bullies who went out of their way to give Trash a hard time. Today, ze was hanging back and watching to see what happened next.
One of the prentices at the baker threw a rock. It turned away from Trash and split into three, pelting the would-be attacker.
Three of the others, a local gang, watched this and put their own missiles down. They let Trash pass unmolested, and only threw words. Words had no effect on Trash, who was too used to them.
The town's guard, a man of infinite cruelty, decided to try "teaching a lesson" to Trash. He crept up on the child, readying his truncheon to crack against Trash's arm as they reached for some discarded food.
The truncheon leaped out of his hands and broke his arm in three places. He picked it up and tried swinging with his sinister hand, and the same thing happened, cracking his head for him. Thrice.
Leaving him unconscious in the street.
Any other child in a similar place might be excused for running away and hiding before more trouble came. Trash went running for the village temple and goaded the local cleric into chasing them.
All the way back to the fallen guard. Only then did they seek to hide themself from view. Watching in concealment to be sure the Cleric did the healing.
Nudibranch let hirself appear as one of the wandering little ones better known for having a good memory. One of the free-roaming urchins that the rest of the town thought far more amenable to help than Trash. Ze watched as the guard came to.
"What did that devilborn do to me?" he growled. "When I find it, I'm gonna--" he broke off in a moan, holding his head.
"He saved your life," said Nudibranch. "Most people would say 'thank you'."
[Photo by Martin Bekerman on Unsplash]
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