Outcasts. But they were completely immune to fire, and even heavy smoke did little more than cause one of them to sneeze a bit. So what did they do? Became one of the best fire-fighting brigades anyone's ever known. -- Anon Guest
They say that fire cannot harm a Dragon. They also say that heat rarely bothers a Devil. Of the two, Drakkonbred and the red-hide Kobolds are more likely to withstand a given flame. As for the devilborn, the only way they find out about their resistance to flame is by walking through the fire. Which, surprising few, is the initiation ritual for joining the Order of Fighting Flame.
Whether they're Unwelcome or not, nobody cares who's rescuing them when their house is on fire.
That said, there are reasons why the firehouses are heavily reinforced. The Order of Fighting Flame may be heroes when there's a fire, but when there isn't... its a haven of those people, who are never any good when they're not needed. And always assumed to be up to no good. Gratitude of the public lasted only as long as the lingering scent of smoke.
Thus, the members of the Order tend to live in the firehouses, getting supplies with the help of magical disguises when the gratitude of the rescued was insufficient.
That was not what they were doing this day.
This day, there was a fire. The lookout saw the abundance of smoke, and raised the alarm. The cart had the fastest horses harnessed to it in record time. And from there, the whole crew went barrelling down the roads on the fastest possible path to the disaster in progress. With a team of Kobolds howling the warning siren, thus clearing the path.
Everyone had their duty. The Kobolds were to seek out small creatures in the building. Children and pets, for the most part. Adult smallfolk, also. The Hellkin sought out the middling-sized folk, and the Drakkonbred went looking for anyone larger. All the while, any form of aquamancy got aimed at the flames.
They did their duty, fighting death. Fighting the flames. Saving as much as they could in as little time as possible. Lives first, things second.
One, barely recovering their breath from the smoke, coughed under the work of the healer. "You... saved me?"
"Of course," said the Hellkin, calling on his power to mend ailments. "It's our job."
"Just last week, I was hurling smoke pots at your house's windows. You had every reason to leave me to the flames."
"Except one," said the Hellkin healer. "Our job is to save all lives. Even assholes." He gave his patient some clear, clean water to drink. "Who knows? May this will cure you of being a shithead."
"Miracles can happen," said a Kobold.
[Photo by Max Kukurudziak on Unsplash]
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