Clara Thatcher

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Clara Thatcher

Post by Metallicar on Wed Dec 25, 2013 10:16 pm







Name:: Clara Thatcher
Species:: Elf - Human
Age:: 15
Class:: Paladin / Assassin
Primary Weapon:: Crossbow with a gold engraving that spells 'Elylia'
Secondary:: Dagger
Hair Color:: Ash Blonde
Eye Color:: Grass Green
Build:: Athletic
Personality:: rebellious
Alignment:: CG


"One day, you'll look up at the sky and thank the stars."

Fifteen Years Ago


"Up!" Urged the General, who paced the barracks, soldiers lying down on their cots sprang up and stood sleepily for their orders. There was one solider still sleeping. The General walked over to the exhausted man. "Thatcher!" He snapped, making the so called Thatcher awake with a startled look. Realizing who had awoken him, his face went soft. "I'm sorry, sir." He stammered, stumbling to get out from under the blanket. The General walked over to him and looked him in the eyes. "Why did you ignore me?" His voice was scary, no matter the seniority of the Paladin. "My daughter was born last night," this Thatcher man said. He looked at the stern General with nervous eyes.
He nodded, raising an unamused eyebrow. "Did you help deliver?" Thatcher nodded, the bags under his eyes assisting his story. The general looked at the rest of the soldiers. "What did you name her?" He asked, beginning to walk and observe the other men.
"Clara."


Seven Years Later


The sound of thick wooden doors swinging and slamming made Clara wake, groggily glancing around the room. At seven years old, Clara and her father lived in a home inside the large city of . Forcing herself to sit up, Clara yawned and shuffled to her large wardrobe. The smell of breakfast cooking was wafting in from the hall. Grabbing a simple day gown, Clara found herself rushing into the kitchen. Her father was busily keeping the eggs from burning, when he noticed his daughter flutter into the room. "Good morning, Clara." He said, flipping a egg with sourdough toast onto a wooden plate. Placing it in front of her, Clara picked up the toast and began to eat. Fresh juices from the community garden was poured from a glass jar into a small cup which Clara also took.
Before finishing her last bit of toast and egg, her father tore of a piece of dried meat and placed it on Clara's plate. Smiling at him, she finished her food. Grabbing her hand, Clara's father led her to their weapon's cabinet which he pulled out his crossbow, and his dagger. Curiously admiring the gold and wood carved crossbow, Clara couldn't make out the words on the side. After slinging the large weapon over his shoulder, they headed out into the royal court. Clara saw many others out and about, wishing to greet them all. Waving to a priest, she felt her dad grab her small hand and pull her attention away from the religious man and to where they were headed.
"Today you learn to hunt," Clara's father said, glancing down at his little girl. Knowing that hunting was in the woods, Clara couldn't help but feel excited. She loved exploring the outside of town. There was so much to see, but there wouldn't be time for that. After exiting the large city, the woods was sprawled out beyond Clara who looked at everything in awe. The first time outside the city and it was beautiful. Wanting to run in head first and see the world outside her home, Clara heard her father fidgeting with the large crossbow.
"Daddy?" Her voice was small and squeaky, attracting her father's attention.
"Yes Clara?" He asked, pulling the string back and locking an arrow into the chamber.
"What does that say?" She asked, standing on her tippy toes and pointing to the golden words engraved into the mahogany stock.
"It says Elylia," Her father replied, his eyes cloudy. At the time, Clara didn't understand his emotion and only nodded with her wide green eyes.
"It's pretty!" She said, making her father smile. It was very foreboding and sad. Moving forward into the lush wilderness, Clara practiced her quiet walk, which her dad had been teaching her to do.
After a while of traveling through the canopy of the forest, Clara's father paused, and pulled out the dagger he brought from home. Turning his head to look at his daughter, he handed the sharp blade to her.
"Be careful," he warned, looking at her with his stern eyes. She nodded eagerly and tried to look scary. Stalking the forest in front of them she watched her father halt, and raise his crossbow. Looking back at his little companion, he pointed at the forest and motioned for her to keep moving.
Clara did as told, moving deeper into the trees. The nature was quiet, and Clara couldn't help but love every second of it, smiling as she looked at it all. Rustling disrupted the enjoyable silence, making Clara freeze and whirl around. Hearing a loud roar in the distance, Clara identified it as an angry bear.
"Daddy!" She called out, dropping the knife and dashing back to where she had last seen her father. Stumbling and panting heavily as she neared her father's location she could feel the tears in her dress and the scratches starting to burn. Clara found the crossbow abandoned on the forest floor, and she stared at it looking around for anybody. Picking up the heavy weapon, Clara continued to stumble in the vague direction she thought her dad might've gone.
"Daddy?" She called out again, grasping the wooden stock, feeling the engraved letters under her tiny fingers. The forest was uncomfortably quiet now, Clara's little heart beating the only sound anything was making. A delayed growl sounded somewhere beyond the trees. Gasping, she struggled to pick the giant weapon up. Heavy breathing was sounding off somewhere she couldn't see. After a few seconds of struggle, the nose of the terrifying bear Clara had heard roar revealed itself. The large feet pounded the ground. Shocked from this surreal sight, Clara fumbled and fell backwards. The giant weapon fell from her hands and Clara scrambled into the back of a tree.
The large bear sniffed the air, the large canines peeking through its mouth. Too afraid to call out for help, the sound of a metal blade being sheathed alerted Clara. Hoof beats accompanied this sound, and a man with silvery white armor swung his sword, slashing at this easily ten foot bear. It swung back at the soldier, red starting to soak tufts of its brown fur. Clara searched for her father among the trees and shrubs, but nothing else stood but the large steed and the battling feud between paladin and bear. After a few minutes of fierce fighting, the brown bear fell. Scrambling for her father's crossbow, Clara glanced up at the man cloaked in armor.
Sweat had formed around her hairline and had a concerned look on his face when he saw the little girl. Grasping the crossbow in her little arms, she went back the way she came, before large hands grabbed her. The soldier had gotten her, and she looked at him with fear.
"My daddy!" Clara cried, wriggling in the man's hands. He placed her on his mount, then proceeded to find her father.
After searching for many moments, Clara had caught sight of her father in a heap against a tree. Sliding down from the large equine, she ran to him. The soldier was not far behind, and helped Clara with her father. He had been injured from the large carnivore, receiving a large wound in the abdominal area. Racing back to the royal court, Clara was taken home by the man who had saved her.
As far as she knew, her father had been taken to the best doctors that lived. For many days, Clara was watched by her rescuer.
Waking up the next morning, Clara ran to the main room, where her 'guardian' rested. Staring at him until he noticed her, Clara folded her arms.
"What's your name?" She asked, watching the sleepy man rub his eyes.
"Carver," he said sitting up and run a hand through his tousled hair. He stood up and proceeded to cook Clara food. She climbed into a chair, wanting to ask why he saved her.


Several Weeks Later


Standing beside the cot of her weak father, Clara touched his arm lightly. He was bandaged all over, and pale. He had asked for Clara, who was stunned to see him like this. Looking at his daughter, he forced himself to smile and push away the pain for a moment.
"Clara," he said almost in a whisper, grabbing her hand with his big cold one.
"I need to tell you something." He said, and Clara nodded in response. She didn't want to speak. "Remember my crossbow? That name means something. It's very important to me." He said. It was obvious this something was draining him of whatever energy he had. Clara kept her hand in his watching him with her wide eyes. "That was your Mother's name. She was a good woman." He winced, and his grip on Clara's hand loosened. Scared, she watched him hopelessly.
"Carver is going to take care of you," he said through a gasp of pain. As if the doctors had been listening they rushed in and detached Clara from her father. Numb, she let them. Nothing he had said had made sense. Couldn't someone save him? Carver had been waiting and took her home, Clara's bright eyes dull, and lost. 'Carver will take care of you,' echoed in her mind.


Four years later


Blinking her eyes open, Clara jumped out of her cot and pulled on some clothes. It was before dawn, but the walk from the royal court to the end of town was a lengthy one. The city was huge, and to beat the other hunters, you had to be one step ahead. Tiptoeing through the halls, Clara peeked into the dark room next to hers. Carver was sprawled on the bed, snoring lightly. Grinning slightly, the eleven year old rushed to the weapons cabinet and reached for the gold and mahogany crossbow. Hanging the quiver filled with her arrows over her shoulder, Clara exited as quietly as possible.
Running through town, the rest of the folk were barely rising, and feeding their families. The roads were nearly empty, letting Clara sprint through them, not having to worry about trampling someone or tripping over a rouge pig. After mindlessly running through the brick streets, she reached the expansive forest. Stopping to load an arrow on her crossbow, she watched the edge of the trees, wondering if any bucks were naive to be wandering this close.
Beyond the trees, it was still quiet and the majority of the animals barely waking. Game was easier to hunt, for they were still waking up. Usually, Clara just grabbed rabbits and ran back home, but she felt daring today. 'I'll find a nice catch,' she thought. Silently jogging and avoiding twigs, she saw fresh tracks and followed them. After a few yards of tracking, Clara came across a young stag, large growing antlers and a muscular build. If she wasn't careful, he would charge at her. Raising the weapon, she lined up her shot. The oblivious animal was grazing the dew covered plants, and there was a clear shot to his heart. Pulling the trigger, the stag fell. It let out a cry, and Clara winced. She hated that. Removing the arrow from the dead animal, she stroked it softly as if to say thank you. Knowing the bears would be following the scent of blood, she was quick to tie the hooves with a rope and cover it with a blanket. She would have to drag it home, not being strong enough to carry the large mammal.
Knowing she had gotten the best game so quickly, she wouldn't have to worry about muggers. Sprinting with the carcass behind her, Clara enjoyed it, knowing she'd get stronger from doing this. The stag was lean, so he wasn't much of a struggle. Relieved she made it home before the majority of the city awoke, Clara bursted through the door, the stag coming in after. Carver had been walking into the main room and nearly yelled when she walked in.
"My god Clara!" He exclaimed, both at the fact she had a large deer behind her and that he had nearly screamed. Grinning triumphantly, she had Carver help her lift the large animal on the table.
"Breakfast might be a little late," she said taking the knife Carver handed her. They sat at the table, skinning the animal of its meats and bones, placing them in two large bowls. Most of the bones and fat would be sold at the market, where she could trade for vegetables and other necessities.
After they finished skinning the animal, Carver took the pelt and placed it in the water trough the used wash pelts. "Clara," he said, his eyes still wide. "That was a seriously good kill." He said, taking the meats and starting a fire, beginning to dry out the scraps. Clara flashed him a rather smug smile as she hung her father's crossbow in the cabinet. "I'll be back," she said vaguely, running to the church.
Entering the large decorated building, the priest greeted Clara. He took her to a back room, which her father lay still, sipping soup from a bowl. Seeing Clara walk in, he placed to soup to the side and smiled.
"Clara!" He said with his raspy voice. He was still weak. Five years later. The church actively took care of him, knowing Clara couldn't do such a thing herself. She hugged him, observing the pale body of her father.
"How are you feeling?" She asked, pulling out some of her gatherings from the forest. He took the fruits from her and began to eat them, mentioning how ripe and delicious they tasted.
Since the attack, he was able to help around the church some, but his days as the second in command to the General was over. Many times he talked about the old days, hunting and serving. Clara told him about the stag, which he slapped her on the shoulder encouragingly.
"That's fantastic," he said. Clara continued to talk with him, until his eyes began to flutter shut, proving he was already tired.
"Love you," she said softly, patting his cheek and leaving him. He usually didn't have much energy, and the mages around the city had to place many healing spells on him. They worked on the huge wound, But his soul was always tired.


Half A Year Later


Clara entered the house, with a rope that had four bunnies hanging from it. Hanging her coat on the antlers hanging by the cabinet. She placed the crossbow in the cabinet, and placed the rabbits on the table. The house was quiet, Carver was at the barracks working. Taking one of the rabbits and placing it on the table, she began to work on the small animal. There was a quick knock on her door and before Clara could answer the General stomped in with Carver behind him. Looking at the sight with a questioning glance, she placed her knife down and looked at the General.
"Clara?"
"Yessir?" Clara responded, looking at Carver, who seemed to look a bit worried.
"It's time for your training," he said, and Clara shook her head.
"What? Carver, what is he talking about?" She asked, looking at the paladin peeking  over the general's shoulder. Ignoring her questions towards the man.
"It's time for for you to become a royal knight."
There wasn't time to fight with the general or hide under the bed. Clara could only grab one thing. Reaching for her Father's crossbow, she followed Carver outside. 'This isn't what I wanted,' her mind yelled, following the older man to the barracks. She was given an empty room, it was small, and only had a bed and a small table beside it. Carver couldn't stay with Clara, and she felt completely alone. 'Why am I here?' She thought, sitting on the bed and placing the crossbow beside her. That General was a bastard, her father could only ever get the nice out of the sour man.
The General returned later, bringing her to the larger barracks, where more young people like Clara sat nervously. A paladin? Clara didn't feel like this was where she belonged. The Man decorated in shiny medals took her crossbow and hung it in the cabinet, Clara watching nervously as he handled the weapon.
Carver was standing in the doorway near the cabinet, and Clara didn't hesitate to flash him a irritated look. The General began to start a lecture, informing everyone who was in the room that they were now being trained for the king's army. He went on about not just anyone could get picked, and it was a great honor to be standing here. There were two other girls who stood next to each other, looking like lost deer. The woods. Clara wondered if she'd ever be able to hunt again.

One Week Later

Waking up to the sound of the loud and uncaring General, Clara sat up, her eyes still shut. He yelled wildly, making the others jump and yell out. This whole King's Army still wasn't working out for Clara. Hearing a familiar whistle, her eyes opened slightly to see Carver beckoning her. She stumbled out of bed and walked into the corridor he had disappeared into. "Clara, we have something special for you set up today." He said promptly, as if they had never lived together and he didn't raise her. He sounded official and, not like the Carver she knew.
"Oh, okay." She said, about to turn around to go back into the barracks when Carver grabbed her arm.
"No, it's this way." He said, twirling her around, and taking her to the indoor obstacle course. She looked at what they had prepped for her. There was a small table with her crossbow and several targets set in various places.
"So, what? You want me to shoot for bulls eyes?" She said sarcastically, scoffing at Carver's glance. It had been a week or so since she had last since her father, and Clara couldn't help but think about him when she laid eyes on the gold and mahogany crossbow. Picking up the familiar object was comforting, since the trainees weren't aloud to leave grounds. Clara couldn't clean her Father's weapon. Elylia was dirtied, which irked Clara slightly. The General walked in after a moment.
"We need to see how well your aim is," he said, pressing a button that raised more targets. Animals and other things sprung up. Raising an eyebrow at the shooting range, Clara wondered why they were just testing her.
Grabbing one of the several arrows placed before her, she locked it in the chamber and aimed, shifting the stock until it rested comfortably in her shoulder. Aiming for a stag looking target, much like the one she had taken down months ago she exhaled and pulled the trigger.
The arrow sunk into the innermost ring, not a bullseye but damn close. Ignoring the desire to look back at the general and Carver, she picked up another slim arrow and loaded it. Picking a smaller target, Clara aimed for a squirrel's head. It was a small chance she could perfect a shot like that yet, but she still wanted to try.
Exhaling, she pulled the trigger and the arrow stabbed the neck of the fake rodent. Rather pleased with her amateur aiming, she picked up another arrow.
After giving her best shots at the dozens of targets, she ran out of arrows. Placing her crossbow down, Clara turned to face the two men. Carver had a pleased look in his eye, which made Clara smirk slightly.
"Noted," said the older observer, who Clara watched leave the room. Not hesitating to flood Carver with questions, she turned to her 'guardian' and scowled at him.
"Why am I here?" Clara asked, her voice in a high tone.
"Your father wanted you to become a Paladin after his accident. It was to happen strictly a month before you turned twelve." Carver said in response, his eyes nervous. Clara was outraged. Since when did her father make deals with the Royal Army?
"This is absurd!" She replied bitterly,  turning away from Carver angrily. 'I would've been fine hunting and trading for the entirety of my life,' she thought, folding her arms. What did it matter anyways? Carver pulled on her shoulder, making Clara face him once again.
"Maybe," Carver said, putting down the clipboard he had in his arms. "It was something your father had planned for years before the day I saved you." Pausing her rant of anger, Clara looked up at Carver, his eyes sincere. Was he serious? Why would Daddy want something like this? She asked herself, unfolding her arms.
"But why? I don't have knight qualities." It didn't seem like a good judgement call to Clara. Flawed. Her father never made rash decisions like these. Shaking her head and not giving Carver time to answer her previous question, Clara looked at the man before her, the green of her irises soft and sweet. The elusive puppy dog face.
"Let me go see my father." She demanded, ready to run out the door no matter the answer. It was obvious with anyone else the answer would've been 'no,' but Carver let Clara go.
Running for the church, she didn't wait for the priest to accompany her. Bursting into her father's room, Clara found her Father lying in his bed reading a book. He glanced from his words to Clara, placing the thick book down when he realized it was his daughter.
"Clara—" He watched his daughter plop on his bed, and noticed the distraught look in her face.
"Why?" Clara asked, her tone hollowed. Squinting, he shrugged his shoulders.
"What?" Clara watched her fragile parent give her a confused look, not sure what she meant.
"Why did you force me to be a Paladin?" The question was laced in frustration, and he sighed. It must've been obvious to him this conversation would come.
"You can't expect Carver to be there for you for the rest of your life, Clara." Shaking her head, Clara stopped his lecture.
"I would've been fine hunting and trading goods. If you would just let me leave this ludicrous academy—," with a sharp snap, Clara silenced herself. The look on her father's face was a mix of pain and irritation.
"No. That life is not what I would want for you. Clara, people all over the lands would do anything to be where you are. Why can't you be gracious?"
"Gracious? Father, none of this is me!" She exclaimed frustratedly. "Don't you know me at all? They've changed me into something unreal. Cutting my hair, stripping me of ambitions! What am I, the General's pet? I don't belong to the army, I belong to me." It sounded strange at first, but Clara's defiance didn't falter. She could see her own fate, and Clara knew Carver saw it as well. Rebels weren't hard to seek out, and Clara was naturally one of them.
"Do not speak badly about the General. Be thankful he accepted you Into the academy before you were even born." None of these words that came from the man Clara admired so deeply made sense. Staring at him in bewilderment, all that flashed in her head was denial.
"I really hope this is worth it," Clara said, looking at the man she thought she knew. Carver knew better than her own father did. It wasn't going to be worth anything.  all of this training was going to be worth no bigger than a grain of sand to Clara. Storming out of the church, she could hear her father's voice fade. Deep inside Clara's confused mind, Clara wished she hadn't demanded Carver to let her leave.

A Year and a Half Later

Rain stung on Clara's skin, making it hard to see very far in front of her. Her squad had been sent on a stealth mission to take out someone the General had been surveilling. Walking in the back of the group, the silent clink of the chain mail was the only thing that let Clara know she was still with her squad. Shivering slightly she crept onwards. The smell of covered campfires was somehow defeating the heavy rain. The camp must be close. The sounds of footsteps sloshing in the rain could be heard from the side of Clara. The squad leader send out silent commands in morse code, the only ones that Clara knew. Running to her assigned position, Clara grasped the rain soaked stock of her crossbow, and reached for her silver dagger in the other. The General never specified who they were after, which made Clara suspicious. Another signal in morse code, and it was time for the ambush. Everyone at this camp must've been hiding inside one of the broken down tents, and after walking around for a moment, Clara realized that this was a section of the Thieves Guild. 'This is going to be disastrous,' Clara thought, walking silently like her father had taught her. At the memory of her father, the grip on her crossbow tightened. 'Damn him,' she thought, peeking through the flap of a tent. It was empty, but the lantern was lit, the oil burning slowly and brightly. Walking in, Clara checked her corners, armor clanking slightly. There was a table with the maps of the guild, and others with numbers and stacks of money. "The owners must camp here," she whispered, scanning the objects her fingers were running over. Feeling eyes burning into her skull, Clara turned to see a man dressed like a thief holding a sword to the point of her neck. Her eyes bore into the wet blade.
"Drop that weapon," he growled. He had to be an Orc, his voice was deep and gurgled. He couldn't whisper if he tried. Parts of him were covered in glistening blood, and Clara watched the stains curiously as she placed her crossbow down. He looked to be a half Orc, his armor only making him look menacing. The silver blade was still hidden in her belt. The Orc stepped closer, and another figure entered the tent.
"It's taken care of." He said, glancing at me, his eyes beady and empty. Clara got the chills, and sneered. The beady eyed man turned and dragged in someone who lashed out, struggling to be free. It looked like a malnourished man, in debt to someone. Clara almost gasped when she realized who it was.
It was a childhood friend, curled up into a starved ball. He didn't look like the friend Clara used to play in the garden with. He refused to listen to the General and was whipped in the royal court. Clara knew the General was a bastard.
"What about this?" He emphasized this as if the crumpled man before them was just an object.
"Kill it," the Orc said, as if it wasn't a person at all. He looked at it like trash, which made Clara look weak, but in reality she was searching for her silver blade. There was no way the attack would work with a sword to her throat and another thief ready to kill a hopeless man. She would have to watch a old friend die, and she couldn't do anything. The beady eyed thief unsheathed his sword, and with a swift strike the miserable man gasped and collapsed on the floor. His pleads were now gurgles, and the sound hung in the tent.
"That is all," the Orc growled, making the beady eyes man retreat. Clara watched the blood surge from her old friend's neck. She must've looked weak now, with soft eyes from thinking back to the younger days.
"A Royal Knight?" The Orc mused, lowering his sword, but still was ready to shove it into Clara's chest. "Looks like you and your Knight buddies are going to end up in the same body pile as this heap," he said poking at the dead body. Clenching her open fist, Clara felt her fingers wrap around the handle to her long sliver blade, which she pulled from her belt as quietly as possible.
"Let's make a bargain. You like bargains right?" Clara asked, watching the Orc, and seeing how he'd respond. The Orc didn't respond, but kept watching Clara.
"So, I think I can bargain my brethren's life." The Orc let out a bellowing laugh,
"You think your friends are worth my time? It'd just be easier to kill them," his voice was rough and gravely.
"I can hunt. Really good game. I'm sure I can—,"
"What? Hunt for your brethren's life? I doubt you could even bring down a bear." He scoffed, twirling his sword, which Clara watched nervously.
"I can find a bear," she gulped, the word burning her throat like a ghost pepper.
"There is no way you could hunt your Royal Army's weight in meat." He challenged, obvious to hear Clara make the mistake that she could. Staying silent, she perched herself in a good position, hoping to dodge the large sword from piercing her.
Sprinting, Clara jumped onto the table and kicked his meaty hand. The sword fell with a clang. she jumped up and slashed at the Orc. He yelled out, sending vibrations through Clara. The orc held his arm, giving Clara the window to give a final strike. Lurching forward, she sent the silver blade into the orc's neck.
The large creature fell slowly, grasping at his bleeding neck. Exhaling slowly, Clara watched the orc gasp wildly. 'I don't remember being good at combat,' she thought, picking up her crossbow.
Walking outside the tent, Clara could see her squad standing by the tent, bodies of thieves sprawled on the ground.
"You tried making a deal with the enemy." Said one of her squad members, seeing them all look at her with disgrace. Clara looked at them in shock.
"I just tried to save your lives,"
"We're Royal Knights! We die royally, and we do. not. bargain." Said the leader to Clara, who stepped forward and poked her chain mail with his dirtied sword.
"This will not go over well with the General." Clara heard the others whisper. Holstering her blade and crossbow, Clara walked onwards back in the direction of the city.
The rain poured on, never faltering for the almost defeated Royal Knights. After a long march home, Clara bursted in the door and stomped to the General, her hair clinging to her face. She dripped on the floor and her armor cringed as she walked.
"You—," The leader of the squad walked in.
"General, she made a bargain with the enemies." He squawked, and Clara turned on her heel and pointed it at him.
"Shut your mouth for one minute!" Clara yelled, and the other soldier opened his mouth as to say something, but quickly shut it deciding not to anger Clara anymore.
"General, there are people In the thieves guild, unprotected citizens that are just being sold around like.. Like pets!" Clara sounded pleading, as if the General could do something.
"Do you expect us to change that by barging in and getting those people back? They'll find more hopeless men and women to run dry." He said, signing a paper with a fancy fountain pen. Scowling, Clara wasn't ready to give in.
"I watched a old friend die in front of—,"
"My biggest condolences Thatcher, but it is not my problem." He said with a snap in his voice, making Clara quiet down. "There is nothing we can do. The thieves guild has been destroyed and it had been risen. It's happened before and it will happen again." Looking at Clara's squad leader with expectant and unamused eyes, he raised his eyebrows.
"Oh, yes. Thatcher here made a bargain with the enemies, on our account." He looked at Clara with a ugly glare, and she returned the favor. She pulled her soaked hair out of her face and blinked as raindrops fell into her eyes.
The General looked at Clara with distaste, and Clara knew what was coming.
"You went rouge?" He asked lowly, squinting at me.
"Rouge? Honestly! I was trying to save my Squad, I kill our threat and you think I'm trying to go rouge?" She screeched, throwing up her arms in frustration.
"That does not matter. Any deals like that is an insult to your Title and the Royal Army." He spat at Clara who glared at him with all disrespect she could muster up.
"I never wanted your training, or your ridiculous title." Clara said, looking back at the General with a calm look. She turned away and began to walk out the barracks.
"You will regret this!" He called out, and Clara nodded. She did regret never running away. She could've and now, what had she earned? Nothing. Carver came into the room, looking at the soaked and pissed Clara.
"Clara," he started, but was to late as she pushed open the door and disappeared into the rain.

Seven Months Later

It was dark in the alleys of the Thieves Guild, but it always was that way. There was no sound, except the whispers that seemed to have no source. Small footsteps crunched the gravel, echoing in the dead silence. A run down building entwined with moss and the branches of trees had low lamp lights burning, casting a Eerie glow around it. The footsteps made their way inside the run down building. Inside was a empty bar. It was just as quiet as the outdoors. Few people sat there, drinking their drinks of choice quietly and without notice.
"What can I get you?" Asked a female voice, who had green eyes and blonde hair that reached her shoulder. She stammered on her last words, when she realized who had sat at the bar.
"Clara," the voice said, and the female narrowed her eyes, her arm wrapping around her silver dagger, in a slow manner so this man could not see.
"Carver."
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Metallicar

Posts : 76
Join date : 2013-12-23
Age : 19
Location : Zombieland

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