aka: Clara, Clara Euphemistia Cropper
Age: no bloody idea
Religious views: whoever’d have ‘er… Trickster mainly
Adventuring skills and specialities: appalling street performance, theiving, scrounging, creating a disturbance of the peace, getting arrested.
Marital Status: …. hahahahah…none
Family connections: A street urchin that survived to adulthood, she has a couple of siblings knocking about but family doesn’t really mean a lot to her.
Clara Cropper was born and grew up on the streets in the rough end of Aberddu. She never had nothing or nobody… and she was used to that. Resourceful and wiley she avaded hanging and starvation to survive into adulthood. She then joined as many guilds as would have her – most notably the Bards Guild, The Adventurers Guild and the Other Guild. This would have been a lucrative lifestyle had Clara understood what it meant to have one of those. It did bring her to Pudding the Goblin who was probably the only person she trusted enough to consider a friend. A sticky end was fitting for Clara, because she’d had a pretty sticky exsistance one way or another.
“Disguise?” snarled Clara, thirty minutes later, “Disguise? It’s practically fancy sodding dress.” Iona sniggered. The tiny urchin was standing gazing at herself in an enormous ornately framed looking glass in Mademoiselle Mantovan’s back room. Her old clothes had been chucked into a sack by Mademoiselle Mantovan herself. She had used the coal tongs to lift them and had been most affronted that she was not allowed to burn them. She had bagged them up with her nose upturned against the stench. Now Clara was done up like a horse for carnival, by comparison to her previous attire at least. She was wearing a well made simple little tunic and a pair of loose fitting hose that were made from heavy weight black cotton. They were probably the first articles of clothing she had ever had that were actually the correct size for her. – In Shadows Waiting