Clara Nightshade



Clara is a seven year old Shaman from a destroyed tribe. She is oddly matured for her young age, probably due to the fact of her childhood. Clara is mostly calm, but sometimes her childish side breaks through. Clara is currently in residence at the Krinvala Orphanage although she isn't quite looking for a home, she has found one among others. She is also in the Ranks of Magi, an apprentice to "Mister Osolt" hoping to gain an understanding of her Cyromancing.

Before Krinvala
They baby's eyes blazed against the midnight backdrop, a perfect opposite of the dark veins that laced up her body in a memorizing pattern. The Shaman held her in his arms, looking down in the small community from his hut on the great hill, he held her out, presenting the child to the people. The child looked down on the people with wide-eyes as the news of the baby's birth spread throughout the Nur-Agon. The Shaman smiled at her "You my dear, are destined for great things," he murmured softly. Clara was special, there was no doubt about that but no one knew the chaos such a small girl would endure. She was a shaman, and this was her destiny. Two Years Later The Shaman sat with Clara on top of the hill, looking out on the rolling plains that stretched far and wide. The girl had learned to speak much quicker that a normal being, like all shaman did. She listened carefully as she tore at the grass absentmindedly. "We are Shaman, much different from out child race, the Nur-Agon." Her eyes lit up. "I'm Shaman! I have the markings!" She exclaimed pointing to the veins that twined up her body. He nodded "That is true, but there is so much more that makes us like Shaman. We are the mother of the Nur-Agon race, we see them throughout their darkest hours, lead them to the light, even in death we guide our race to the land beyond. We are so much more than veins on the skin? Now we are all also born of magic, children of mystery. Some never sprout, but others, others blossom, their magic breaks through the boundaries in their body, it spreads through the veins, consuming the body until it becomes their fuel. The question is, my dear, are you born of such powers?" Clara frowned, she didn't feel special. "Are you magical Papa?" She questioned, he chuckled, but held up his hand, letting a flicker of light illuminate the dark landscape "Indeed my child" she frowned "What about me, how will I know if I'm special like you?" She questioned "One day it will become clear to you, now come child, let us dine." He offered his hand, which she grasped tightly as they made their way to the hut. She couldn't shake the feeling of despair, wondering if she herself would ever be special like her father. If both of them had looked closer, they would have seen the small puddle of water by her, a puddle of water in the midst if a drought. Three years later

She was five years old, and on her birthday, the chaos began. Three events would lead her to her home in Krilvana, three horrible events that one should not wish upon their worst enemy. The Shaman and Clara were out on their daily lesson, he was teaching her of nature and it's importance, suddenly he stopped, a crease forming in his forehead. "Clara, someone is watching us, I need you to laugh and nod as if I said something funny." He feigned a grin as she let out a laugh as best she could. "Good girl, now when I say go you need to-" he was cut off when a man slammed into him, forcing him to the ground. A scream erupted from Clara before a hand clamped over her mouth. "Hush little one, speak and the man dies." She looked to see the Shaman, a knife resting at his throat, his amber eyes flared, a signal to her. She took a deep breathe, recalling every lesson that had been taught to her, every fighting move she had ever learned, ever tactic she had covered. She could not fail. A shiver ran down Clara's back, she nodded, pushing herself up and turning to the man. That's when all he'll broke loose. Clara kneed the man in the stomach, an action not to be expected of a five year old. He rolled over in pain, not expecting the punch to his nose, nor the kick to his groin. Every plow was precisely planned and executed. She knew not how the Shaman was doing, only heard the crackling of fire and yells in the distance. Everything seemed to be working out, her opponent was on the ground in pain, but what she hadn't been expecting was a group of others waiting close-by. Steam rose from her hand, barely viable as They flooded out of the forest, all of them shrouded in black cloaks, they reached for her arms, dragging her behind them as they retreated into the forest, the last thing she saw was the Shaman, a knife sliding into her stomach before the darkness overtook her. Clara woke with a start, attempting to fall into a fighting stance before she realized she was chained to a chair, her arms and legs bound together. She screamed for help, knowing that no one could hear her, no one would come. Then she heard the voices. They were faint, yet she could hear the malice in the words they spoke, she focused on one voice, trying to make out words but all she heard was a slur of sounds. She was stuck, she was going to die. No, she couldn't think like that, she would have to get a way out, the Shaman would save her, if he was still alive. She forced the horrible thought away before once again, descending into darkness. "Get up!" A voice commanded, you shall be tested on now. Clara forced her crusted eyes open, taking in the face of a man. His tweed mustache was filled with crums, his blood-red eyes bore into her. You're ugly." She managed. It was something so simple but so true, there was really no other way to describe him. He backhanded her, seeing shooting pain throughout her body followed by a wave of nausea. "You're a Nur-Agon Shaman, you have powers like no others. We will figure those powers out." He said, grinning maliciously. The last thing she remembered of that night was being strapped to a table and dissected, they didn't get far before the light stopped them, that's all she could comprehend. A light blazed through stopping them. She woke up in her hut, next to the Shaman. They told her it was a dream, a horrible horrible dream, but she knew better. She knew because of the look on everyone's face, by the scars on her arms. Why would lying make it better? Lying wouldn't make everything disappear. She only wondered why anyone would attack her race, they were so peaceful. That was only the first event. The first horror.

Two months later

The second act of chaos happened on a frigid December night, she was camping with the Shaman, he was teaching her of plants. A rustle in the bushes pulled Clara from her slumber. She ran her hand through her hazel hair, listening closely for the crunching of leaves. A snap directed her attention to the base of the great oak of which she slept in, when she turned her head again; an eerie mist seemed to be forming, cloaking the ground from view. Her eyes darted around as she tried to keep her breathing slow. A low howl pierced the air; it was a song of sorrow, one so excruciating and terrifying tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Clara did not know such sorrow existed, she would have chosen another dissection over the pain tearing at her heart. Soon a higher octave howl joined the lone one, their voices melding together, becoming one. Slowly, voices joined together, each one distinctively different, yet when joined together, they were one. From the mist emerged creatures shrouded in black, their eyes ranging from a raging green to a mellow red. Clara scanned her for her lessons on creatures. Wolves. That was the only thing they could be. Their eyes pierced into the mist, staring ahead, their mangy fur waved in the gentle breeze. Taking out her small knife, she watched them carefully from her perch, holding her breath as they slowly padded on. Suddenly she was tackled from the tree, a creature looming over her, its vile breath smelling of rotten flesh, its piercing blue eyes glowing hungrily in the moonlight. She gasped for breath as the wolf put pressure on her stomach, it let out a loud howl. To her horror, the pack returned, surrounding her with taunting growls and bloodlust filled eyes. They grinned impishly, the large one lunged, sinking its yellow teeth into her neck. She screamed as the starched canines pierced her neck, feeling no pain, only shock. Suddenly a blinding flash of light illuminated the darkness. "Get away from her!" a voice yelled. She heard a faint explosion and the agonizing whimper of a wolf. She knew whoever was there was hopelessly outnumbered, she was torn away from her thoughts as teeth sank into her leg, pulling her back. Clara screamed again, digging her fingers into the dirt in search of her knife. She felt the metal object in her hand; the creature was already on her stomach, tearing her chest apart. She was bleeding out, much too quickly. In a weak motion she slashed at the wolf, suddenly a flash of fire erupted from her hand, a moment of truth that gave Clara time to pull herself away before she slipped into a state of unconscious awareness. All she felt was agony, the feeling of her muscles being ripped apart as blood gushed out of her. All she could see was red, and all she could feel was pain. At this point she would be have been thankful for death, it would soothe the pain that burned strongly inside her. A faint voice called her name, a hint of desperation in it, soon after she felt strong arms lifting her up. Clara opened her eyes a bit, looking at her savior. His arms were soaked in her blood, he muttered quietly as he sprinted through the forest. "Don't die on me Clara, you can't. Focus on my voice and don't think about the pain." The agony was present now, as was the knowledge of her closeness of death, she whimpered quietly, whispering, "it hurts." Her savior made a choked noise, a sob maybe? "We are so close Clara, you're doing so well." Clara felt her consciousness slipping away as another voice broke through, a woman's. "Shaman! What happened?!, get her to the infirmary!" So that was her savior. She woke the next day, her wounds were healing, but no one could shake the horrible thought of what happened. This was the second attack on her in two months, all of them could have resulted in death. Miraculously they hadn't.

Two years later

Now the third and final event is what sent her on her way. And was by far the worst if the three. Clara awoke to screaming. Smoke. That was the first thing she sensed, then fire. She ran outside of the hut, looking down in the village, only to see it consumed by flames, everywhere she looked she saw the orange-yellow mix that burned so brightly. Even from where she stood she could smell the thick, coppery smell of blood. It invaded the air. Clara ran down the hill, looking desperately for a way to help, only to be jerked back by a hand on her shoulder. "Little one, you must survive." She looked into the pleading eyes if her father, her Shaman. He held a lead of a horse in one hand and a knapsack in the other. "These men have only one goal. Our deaths. they want to see the Nur-Agon perish. they will slaughter us all. We are not strong enough to stop them, they outnumber us. Ride to the ports, a boat is waiting there, it will take you to safety." He spoke quickly, slurring his words. Terror over and Clara. "I'm only seven! How can I manage without you?!" She yelled over the roar if the flames. He smiled mournfully, "my dear, you have managed things a grown man wouldn't have been able to. You have the magic in you. You are the best of us. You, Clara, are powerful. If anyone and survive this, you can. Go to the land, you will find help there, maybe some like us." He thrust the items in her hands and placed her on the horse. "I love you so much my dear Clara, now go, and do not look back." He smacked the horse, sending it flying away while Clara screamed for him. She looked back. Only to see the arrow enter her father's heart, and to watch him collapse to the ground. She shook her head, this wasn't happening, this couldn't happen. She rode for days, refusing to believe the truth. Only when she was on the boat, half way to the land did she break down, but she stopped herself. She would be strong for her father, for her tribe. She was Clara, and this was her destiny.

Arrival in Krinvala
After her long journey overseas, Clara had finally arrived in Krinvala. She was lost, but too tired to think of this, instead she crawled into the stable of the Gallifire residence. She slept there for a while until she was found by Berry, who wordlessly brought her inside and offered her the only bed. From then, she looked up to Berry like an older sister, she was the first that Clara grew close to since her father. After Berry left, she noticed the boy name Kyrainium. From the moment she saw his flaming red hair, she knew who hew as. This was her brother. Her father had told her of her brother, the boy who was exiled for killing a young boy. Clara wanted to tell him, but knew she couldn't. She didn't think Kyra would accept her as a sister. So Clara moved in with the group of orphans, of whom she thought of family.