Coven of Outcasts (Book one - Four Broken Pieces)

Chapter One - An Unbreakable Bond

          I was taught as a small firbolg how to cast magic through nature, to focus on my connection with the wild place of the world and my wisdom, to communicate with flora and fauna. Of course, I chose a different approach.

          I came barreling out of a store, a broken lute in one hand and stolen goods in the other. Rain was pouring down, soaking my fur and fiery red hair. I sprinted as fast as my legs could take me, the store owner chasing after me. 

          Turning the corner, I hid in the alleyway. My chest was heaving in both panic and excitement, I hadn't had a chase like that in a while. I checked back for the store owner, and from what I could tell, she lost me. I checked my bag of stolen goods, and to my relief, all of the ripe, juicy tomatoes were intact and still in the bag. 

          I went to tuck the bag in my pocket, before a piercing pain rung throughout my arm. I yelled out and turned to see what it was. The store owner, Mrs. Birdyl, a tabaxi with snow-like fur, stood before me, digging her razor-sharp claws into my shoulder. 

          She narrowed her piercing blue eyes, her pupils slits. Her voice came out as a low growl as she spoke, "Something's telling me you aren't paying for that, eh, big guy?"

          I started to stutter in panic, it's rare I get caught, but through my stutters I managed to get out, "Mrs. Birdyl! I was just - "

         She interrupted me with a hiss, "Don't even try to get outta this, kid. You're gonna be talking to the sheriff."

        I gulped and she started dragging me to the sheriff's office. Mrs. Birdyl had a strong grip on my shoulder, I couldn't get away, lest she'd dig her claws deeper. 

        I already didn't have a good history with the sheriff, a couple years back I got accused of thievery, of course, one of the few times it wasn't me. He didn't like me much then, I doubt he'd like me any more now.

        "Sheriff Donnie," Mrs. Birdyl hissed loudly, "I've got a little thief here to see you!"

        A soft voice replied, "Coming!" An auburn-scaled dragonborn scrambled out of the building, Sheriff Donnie. The instant he saw me, his face fell.

      He sighed in disappointment, "Didn't think I'd see you back here, Twig." I smiled nervously and waved at him.

      "Heya, Sheriff," I said, feeling a tad ashamed.

       Mrs. Birdyl handed me over to him, small claw marks left on my shoulder.

        "I'll throw them in the holding cell for now," Sheriff Donnie told her.

         Sheriff brought me inside and locked me in a cell, walking away afterwards to tend to other business. I looked around and spotted that up against the wall farthest from the holding cell were confiscated weapons, including my broken lute, but one thing stood out to me. A wooden staff, seemingly made out of oak, with a gorgeous orange gem on top.

         I heard someone clear their throat from behind me, and I jumped, startled. I turned around to see who it was, and there was a grey-skinned goliath woman, with no hair on her head, and beautiful markings all over her body, covered in a tattered, flamboyant outfit. She was sitting, hunched, on the bottom of a bunk bed. She looked at me, her green eye glowing.

       "Gonna say hello to your cell mate? Or keep looking at my staff?"

         "Oh, hi," I smiled and sat next to her on the bed, it creaked underneath the weight of both of us, "My name's Twig."

        "Good to meet ya, Twig. The name's Shivara. Shivara Stoneweaver," She paused for a moment, "What are you in for, kid?"

        I looked away, feeling ashamed, "I stole a lute and a few tomatoes."

       She gestured over to my shattered lute, "That it there?" I nodded in response, she creased her eyebrows, "Why's it all broken?" 

       I started getting quiet, "I panicked when I got caught, and tried hitting someone over the head with it, missed, and broke it on the wall." 

       Clearing my throat, I asked her, "What are you in for, miss?"

       She sighed mournfully, "Theft and arson, theft wasn't me though, and the arson what only somewhat my fault."

       I asked, confused, "What's that mean? Did you get framed?"

        She nodded, "Sorta, a 'friend' of mine screwed me over, still waiting on my trial," she looked sorrowful, and quickly tried to change the subject, "Y'know, that's my staff over there, I don't really need it, I was born with magic, but I used to be a performer before the arrest, and it added some flavor to my performances. I wish I could perform again."

       "Maybe you could," I replied, looking up at her, "Wanna break out?"