A week or so in the past, Clara Blackwood made a trip to the city to get her armors fixed and things like that. In a rather pleasant turn of events, she ALSO managed to run into her big boss that sat behind some desk in Azuria, got to learn about some attack or the though, though details were not known, the target of which was apparently the Castle, the seat of Azuria. Though, Clara chose to stay out of that. She desired a much simpler life, a life that revolved around helping the poorer farmers and miners in Outlands. Few appreciated them, but these people were the reason that Azuria was not starving. Generally, a guard or two per community was enough to watch over things, as did Clara. At present, she sat inside a small hut, about 5x5 feet long, a stool she sat on, leaning against the wall and a board stuck to the side wall. This board had crude prints of criminals she was supposed to catch. Some had faces, some didn't, some had names, some didn't and SOME of them were bandit groups. If only Clara had a clue where they were. These bandits were sneaky. They smelled like any, and this made them harder to track down, and Outlands was HUGE. She rather not encroach on some other guard's domain. It's why the Outer Guard boards were updated daily, and you found the same notices stuck everywhere.
"Kay, time to go," The werewolf girl sprang to her feet. And just as a boy came running in and almost crashed into Clara. "Bandits! Dad said he saw a bandit camp up by the small crook near West Wood forestry!" The lad spat out, panting. He had run quite a distance, three miles to be exact, from his father's lodge situated down the roast past the farm. His old man was a known wood cutter in the parts, an honest hard working man. "Thank you," Clara nodded, "Now run along, I'll check it out,"
"Yes sir!" The boy said and disappeared back out.
"I'll cover more ground as a werewolf," Clara chuckled to herself as she emerged from the little hut. Well, everyone in the community knew she was a werewolf so it didn't really pose a problem to her. The transformation though, was always painful, and that's why she let out an unwitting howl that would sound out for a few miles. Maybe it alerted the bandits, maybe it didn't, but the thing was, everyone, even the bandits knew about Clara Blackwood so why would they pay any extra vigil than they already did? They wouldn't. She ran fastest on all her fours, which she employed right now. It was kind of disgusting, to let her paws sink into the mud as she ran along. Kind of repulsive for a werewolf who was used to living a clean human life, but then she knew that werewolves were like, well they were used to these kind of conditions, and she should as well, this much she knew.
Abandoned threads and finished plots.
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