Shafted

Amaya had never been very good at getting home early. She got lost in Winsiph often, meaning that she was often late, making poor Alma even more stressed than she usually was already. Day after day, she couldn't find her way back home.

Usually Amaya went out with her friends, trusting them to be able to lead her back until she knew the city better. But this time she fell behind, telling them she would catch up later. She took what seemed like a few minutes looking in a shop, but her friends were nowhere to be found.

She took what little money she had, and ran around frantically looking for them. She looked near a grocery store, the carpenter’s office, the jewellery store, but she couldn't find them anywhere. Eventually she found herself in a dark alley, full of shadows and strange noises and unfriendly eyes. She started to get scared. 

Very scared.

She crept along, trying to looking meaningless, worthless, harmless.

It didn't work.

Maybe they saw a glint of gold in her clenched claws, maybe it was the ragged-looking brown sack hanging limply by her side, previously full of golden coins. Maybe it was the fact that she looked rather clean and well to do. They definitely saw something, else they wouldn't have grabbed her with their arms of metaphorical steel.

Amaya tried to scream, struggle, fight her way out, but the arms holding her were too strong, and they weren't about to let go of their helpless victim. She started to cry piteously, feeling her warm tears wet against her terrified face, wiping against the arm of her attacker. He held her fast against his chest, keeping her fighting but restrained.

Her attacker was growling with extreme annoyance at the stubborn resistant his captive was showing, but he matched her stubbornness and refused to let go. Bite, scratch, punch, kick, pinch, elbow, knee, nothing worked to set Amaya free from the folds of his rock like arms. She kept fighting, wriggling, kicking, but it was no use, and eventually she gave up and let herself be carried away by the cruel wyngro.  

“We got ‘er!” Snarled another Wyngro, “She’s given up fighting. Let’s go!”

“Not so fast!” Another said, softly but with deadly intent.

“Whaddya gonna do Imperial?” The Wyngro holding Amaya chuckled. “Shoot beams at us with your eyes? Freeze our claws off? Blow us away with a gust of mightywind?” Suddenly Amaya felt her adversary go rigid with fear. She was confused, until she looked through his claws…

And saw her saviour’s magic glands glowing purple.

The Wyngro who was holding her dropped her and fled as quickly as his legs could run, and the other followed soon after. The other Wyngro came up to her, and wrapped a scarf? Cloak? Random piece of fabric? around her neck. It was like a short scarf, but instead of long lengths of fabric running down to tie up, there was a clasp, similar to that of a cloak. The fabric was a soft, warm velvet, and a colour similar to the scented violets in the garden at the nook. The clasp was golden coloured, although stronger than real gold.

“Go back to the nook, and tell noone about this encounter,” he said, “Tell them that you were given this scarf by Azoth because you were looking cold when you were at the jewellery shop.”

“Is that your name?” Amaya asked, “Azoth?”

“Yep,” Azoth answered, “In the flesh.” And on that note he disappeared into the darkness of the alley, leaving Amaya and her new scarf framed in a shaft of golden sunset light

Upgrades:
-Accessory 
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