Claymore Fanfiction Discussion

[hell88]

Originally Posted by Mikke

Well.. Here's an attempt to illustrate a fraction of a battle scene in E.S.S.. a few chapters back, if anyone remembers.. The drawings are unfinished in some frames; I was in a hurry..

I wanted to do the whole thing, but since time is allways an issue this is all I ended up with..

Spoiler for Scene:

Yeah Hell.. You did slip and fall on your ass there, sorry..

Thats really good actually Mikke. Although it looks like there is more at the bottom but it doesn't show. Wait I slipped and fell on my ass?! It seems my swordsmanship has gotten a little rusty.

@Bikerider, yeah make some more Ophelia snapshots they are funny, and some more of Yuma stalking Clare, those are hilarious.

[shelter]

Edited Claymore Poetry

But I'm not very satisfied with it. I might take it down later & redo it again. I had a lot of Miria poem, so this one's for the Galatea fans/ admirers. Again, some religious themes, partly because I wanted to use the perspective of Galatea after the 7 year time-skip. This is probably what she'd think knowing that the Organization was coming for her.

Anyway, I've always thought with Galatea as a nun, there would've been probably a lot of distractions at that church in Rabona

Spoiler for Last Epistle of Galatea:

Context: Manga Chapter 74 ("One Woman's Prayer")
Inspiration: Psalm 22

Last Epistle of Galatea

My life did not begin on a bed of hay. No one
christened me at birth:
a goddess’ name they gave to me.
Then they who loved me sold me
for less than 30 pieces of silver;

on a day darker than Golgotha:
they who loved me passed me on with a Judas’ kiss:
a death wish – for what wrong did I commit?

Such is the price of blood, they say, for you-
are-cursed, and shall perish in the hell fire –
these words slithered from tongues both yoma and human.
Yet the monster I slay,
and man’s covenant I obey.

A demon for a demon, they say (Just like
an eye for an eye?). A sword, a symbol, a silver eye:
seeing sisters blinking for salvation.
But who ordained me with such heavenly vision:
whose judgment, whose law, whose doctrine?
The wriggling of many lives like mine,
bound to the hooded man’s altar,
the sacrifice of false religion, under the spell of awakening.

So you are hell-bound, witch, they say, for you are a sinner
(but what if no one taught me to sin?).
Then you are an infidel, heathen, they claim.
Daughter of bastards, defiled –
And the claim for penance meets a chastening:
no – remember – there is no god but your eye and sword, Claymore,
the hooded man says,
and which god hears the whines of monsters anyway.

Blind me from your promises and let me turn
apostate to your faith .
We are more than numbers, more than monster’s flesh –
souls and humans and tongues –
singing tongues like unfinished prayer:

the sweet incense for saints and sinners
alike. And when they reach courts of heavenly
judgment, I call on You to defend me –
purge me
and make me clean – pull down the scales which darken my eyes –
and let me wait in the deep of this sanctuary,
in Your presence;
let me wait, till the meet inherit the earth.
Let me wait, till the meek inherit the earth.
(29.04.1986)

[Bikerider]

That's some fine drawing there Mikke

[Mikke]

Originally Posted by shelter

Edited Claymore Poetry

But I'm not very satisfied with it. I might take it down later & redo it again. I had a lot of Miria poem, so this one's for the Galatea fans/ admirers. Again, some religious themes, partly because I wanted to use the perspective of Galatea after the 7 year time-skip. This is probably what she'd think knowing that the Organization was coming for her.

Anyway, I've always thought with Galatea as a nun, there would've been probably a lot of distractions at that church in Rabona

Spoiler for Last Epistle of Galatea:

Context: Manga Chapter 74 ("One Woman's Prayer")
Inspiration: Psalm 22

Last Epistle of Galatea

My life did not begin on a bed of hay. No one
christened me at birth:
a goddess’ name they gave to me.
Then they who loved me sold me
for less than 30 pieces of silver;

on a day darker than Golgotha:
they who loved me passed me on with a Judas’ kiss:
a death wish – for what wrong did I commit?

Such is the price of blood, they say, for you-
are-cursed, and shall perish in the hell fire –
these words slithered from tongues both yoma and human.
Yet the monster I slay,
and man’s covenant I obey.

A demon for a demon, they say (Just like
an eye for an eye?). A sword, a symbol, a silver eye:
seeing sisters blinking for salvation.
But who ordained me with such heavenly vision:
whose judgment, whose law, whose doctrine?
The wriggling of many lives like mine,
bound to the hooded man’s altar,
the sacrifice of false religion, under the spell of awakening.

So you are hell-bound, witch, they say, for you are a sinner
(but what if no one taught me to sin?).
Then you are an infidel, heathen, they claim.
Daughter of bastards, defiled –
And the claim for penance meets a chastening:
no – remember – there is no god but your eye and sword, Claymore,
the hooded man says,
and which god hears the whines of monsters anyway.

Blind me from your promises and let me turn
apostate to your faith .
We are more than numbers, more than monster’s flesh –
souls and humans and tongues –
singing tongues like unfinished prayer:

the sweet incense for saints and sinners
alike. And when they reach courts of heavenly
judgment, I call on You to defend me –
purge me
and make me clean – pull down the scales which darken my eyes –
and let me wait in the deep of this sanctuary,
in Your presence;
let me wait, till the meet inherit the earth.
Let me wait, till the meek inherit the earth.
(29.04.1986)

that's really cool.. only that the meek will never inherit there earth, for theres no such thing as a meek people.. and never will be

[hell88]

Originally Posted by shelter

Edited Claymore Poetry

But I'm not very satisfied with it. I might take it down later & redo it again. I had a lot of Miria poem, so this one's for the Galatea fans/ admirers. Again, some religious themes, partly because I wanted to use the perspective of Galatea after the 7 year time-skip. This is probably what she'd think knowing that the Organization was coming for her.

Anyway, I've always thought with Galatea as a nun, there would've been probably a lot of distractions at that church in Rabona

Spoiler for Last Epistle of Galatea:

Context: Manga Chapter 74 ("One Woman's Prayer")
Inspiration: Psalm 22

Last Epistle of Galatea

My life did not begin on a bed of hay. No one
christened me at birth:
a goddess’ name they gave to me.
Then they who loved me sold me
for less than 30 pieces of silver;

on a day darker than Golgotha:
they who loved me passed me on with a Judas’ kiss:
a death wish – for what wrong did I commit?

Such is the price of blood, they say, for you-
are-cursed, and shall perish in the hell fire –
these words slithered from tongues both yoma and human.
Yet the monster I slay,
and man’s covenant I obey.

A demon for a demon, they say (Just like
an eye for an eye?). A sword, a symbol, a silver eye:
seeing sisters blinking for salvation.
But who ordained me with such heavenly vision:
whose judgment, whose law, whose doctrine?
The wriggling of many lives like mine,
bound to the hooded man’s altar,
the sacrifice of false religion, under the spell of awakening.

So you are hell-bound, witch, they say, for you are a sinner
(but what if no one taught me to sin?).
Then you are an infidel, heathen, they claim.
Daughter of bastards, defiled –
And the claim for penance meets a chastening:
no – remember – there is no god but your eye and sword, Claymore,
the hooded man says,
and which god hears the whines of monsters anyway.

Blind me from your promises and let me turn
apostate to your faith .
We are more than numbers, more than monster’s flesh –
souls and humans and tongues –
singing tongues like unfinished prayer:

the sweet incense for saints and sinners
alike. And when they reach courts of heavenly
judgment, I call on You to defend me –
purge me
and make me clean – pull down the scales which darken my eyes –
and let me wait in the deep of this sanctuary,
in Your presence;
let me wait, till the meet inherit the earth.
Let me wait, till the meek inherit the earth.
(29.04.1986)

Although that was pretty good, I have a question. Why do you always have to make your poems so depressing?!

You should make a poem about Helen and Deneve, that would be funny. It would probably be about Helen always being hungry and getting on Deneve's nerves.

But if you want to keep making depressing poems I think a poem about Irene would be pretty depressing. Or mabye Jean, or Raphaela, and of course mabye Clare.

[Mikke]

Anyway guys.. if anybody still wants to continue E.S.S then go ahead and do it, while I focus on a few cool manga snap shots like this one..

Maybe throw in a chapter occasionally..

For now I'll finish the Bishou vs Group - Shelter's appearance and so on..

[hell88]

I still want to continue it! Its just starting to get fun again!

Epic Soul Searching - A Dark Beginning - Part 5
-----------------------------------------------------------

NSW: Well it seems you guys are after the same thing I am... I think, that makes us ally's. But as you can see I already have a hunting team. Now why did you want to catch up to me? Do you want to join me?

Mikke: Not exactly!

Bishou: Wait Mikke! Mabye we should talk this over-

Shelter: We were going to join you!

NSW: Shelter.... I don't believe this. You and your group of misfits and awakened beings want to join me? You after all those years ago when you destroyed over half of my fraction and made it so hard for me to rebuild my empire.

Shelter: Oh yes that was so long ago.... I forgot how much history we have.

NSW: Okay I'll let you join me. I'll even let Mikke and Bishou come back to me. I'll free them of being hunted down. But I will kill you Torren, Enara, Shelter, and Wierdo because you guys have gave me lots of trouble especially you Wierdo you were supposed to kill off Hell but you forgot your mission and joined him!

Wierdo: But they have chocolate! Wait I had a mission.

NSW: Whatever I think you should meet my claoked warriors. I believe you already have before.

Fenrir was the first to show himself then Nesty.

Mikke: Oh no not these guys!

The last one revealed himself and it was DefiledOne!

Bishou: WHAT?! HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?! I KILLED YOU!

DefiledOne: I have no reason to answer that.

The two groups had a stare down for a few moments which eventually felt like forever. Then they felt a powerful surge of yoki.

Bishou: Its Hell! He's rampaging again!

Mikke: Lets hurry! We can catch up to him if we go now!

The two groups started to run off when NSW's group was stoped by the undead four.

NSW, Fenrir, Nesty, DefiledOne: What?!

Temptest attacked Fenrir first, Chiba whent after NSW, Biker attacked Nesty, and Isley wen't up against DefiledOne. The battle was going so fast that no one could be seen.

Shelter's group kept on going.

Wierdo: Hey shouldn't we be helping those guys!

Bishou: Don't be stupid! Those guys will just try to kill us again when they get the chance!

Wierdo: Oooooooh....

When they were running Mikke thought of something.

Mikke: Hey Torren and Enara! The two of you haven't said much are you planning something?

Enara: N-no its just that I don't really know what I'm going to do next when we go to kill - I mean stop Hell!

Mikke: And what about you Torren?!

Torren: I once helped him before, gave him a place to stay but one day the village we lived in got attacked and no one survived. I figure I can help him out again, what else is thier to say than that.

Mikke: I see....

Back at NSW's group.

NSW: WHAT IS THIS?! HOW COME YOU WONT DIE?!

Temptest: Its because where already dead!

NSW, Fenrir, Nesty, DefiledOne: ?

Chiba: But don't worry I think we bought enouph time for the other group to get away.

NSW: Huh?!

The undead four dissapeared.

Fenrir: Now what do we do?!

NSW: We wait and take our time.

Meanwhile Shelter's group runs into a bunch of eggs that are starting to hatch.

DGK: I see you finally ran into Nightwish's experiment!

Shelter: DGK!

Without another word Shelter went to go and fight DGK.

Shelter: Stay back everyone I'll hold him off.

Bishou: What are hatching out of these eggs?

Torren: They look like dragons.

Mikke: We should destroy them before its too late!

Bishou: I don't think it would be to hard for you the dual bladed hex ripper.

Wierdo: Huh why did you call him that?

Bishou: IDIOT! Did you not listen to when I told you about how I met Mikke!

Wierdo: I fell asleep though.

Bishou: Its his special attack and he uses it when he needs to make a quick kill.

Mikke pulled out both his swords and started killong all the baby dragons in an instant.

Then they heard a loud roar coming from above them.

Bishou: WHAT IS THAT?!

Mikke: Thats HELL IN HIS AWAKENED FORM!

Bishou: No way!

DGK: Shelter you and your group made a mistake by killing those eggs!

Shelter looked over only to see Hell blast a fireball at his group.

Enara: HE CAN BREATH FIRE!

Torren was the first person to do anything by turning into her awakened form and using her vine like body to try and tie down Hell but she was thrown away.

Mikke ran up Hell's tale from behind and tried the dual bladed hex ripper but nothing happened.

Enara went into her awakened form but was pushed back by Hell when he tried to step on her.

Bishou: This.... Is...

But then she felt a strange yoki from Wierdo.

Bishou: What?

Wierdo: This feels good.... Its time for me to fight at full power!

Wierdo all the sudden had tremendous yoki and jumped up to Hells face and punched him and it almost had an effect but Hell swated him down like a fly with one of his clawed hands.

Bishou: I have never had to try this, but here it goes.

Bishou used yoki manipulation something she never usually used. She was able to stop Hell and get into his mind so he could see what he was doing.

Hell88: AH.... WHATS GOING.... ON....

Bishou: Hell its me! Bishou! Come back your going to kill us.

DGK: WHAT!? THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I WANTED BISHOU!

Shelter: WHAT?!

DGK: Are you still here!

He kicks Shelter across the face and sends him flying.

Shelter: AAAAAAAAH!

Then he strikes Bishou with a lightning bolt.

Bishou: AAAAAAAAAAHH!

Hell88: B-Bishou.....

DGK: Now Hell go back under my control!

Hell88: No.....

Then Mikke came up from behind DGK and attacked him with both his swords in a horizontal swing.

DGK: Nice try but no cigar!

DGK turns around and spin kicks Mikke.

Mikke: He's to fast...

Bishou was on the ground and tried getting up.

Bishou: I'll try this again. Hell come back to us.... Your hurting us.

Hell88: W-what? I'm hurting you?

DGK was going to attack Bishou but Torren jumped in the way.

Torren: Its pretty obvious your in control here!

DGK: Get out of my way!

DGK used the same illusion he used on Hell to bring him back on Torren and then he threw her out of his way.

Torren: (How did he?)

Bishou: Please Hell come back-

Before she finished her sentence DGK kicked her across the face.

DGK: Wench! I'll finish you now!

He was about to cut her head off.

Mikke trys to get up: No Bishou!

Shelter: What I can't do anything....

Wierdo: *out cold*

Enara: They are too strong for us.... *passes out*

Torren: *out cold as well*

But as DGK tried to strike down Bishou a clawed hand picked him up and lifted him in the air.

Hell88: I'll... Kill.... You!

DGK: WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?

DGK tried to fight out of Hell's grasp but Hell was to powerful in his awakened form and bit off DGK's head! Then ate the wrest of the body in one bight!

NSW: NOW!

In a second NSW's hunting team jumped out and into the claering to kill off everyone, but Hell didn't allow it as he swung his tale around knocking them back, but before they could attack Hell picked up the others and flew off.

Mikke: H-Hell is that you in there?

Hell88: I'm.... going somewhere.... safe.... I need to find a tree to rest under....

Shelter: Huh?

Mikke: That is you in there.

Bishou: It worked... I brought him back. WAIT ARE YOU FLYING!? I HATE FLYING!
*faints from fear of hieghts*

Hell88: I have to get my clothes first I left them on top of a mountain..... You wouldn't want to see me naked would you?

Mikke: I don't think so. But its a good thing all the girls are knocked out.

Shelter: *laughs*

Eventually Hell landed in a dense forest to hide in and went back to his human form.

Mikke: You seem different Hell. Your body is still distorted a little.

Hell88: Even when I go back to my human form I am still awakened a little bit, but its seems now that I have eaten DGK that I can control it easier.

Shelter: Well I'm going to look for food . I think everyone is going to be hungry when they get up.

Shelter leaves while the others wake up.

Enara: Ow my head hurts....

Torren: I guess we won.

Wierdo: WHERE'S THE CHOCOLATE!

Bishou: WERE ON THE GROUND! I hate flying.

When she was talking Hell looked her in the face.

Bishou: Hey what are you looking at!?

Hell88: I wanted to thank you for pulling me back. Even though my body is still distorted and my eyes still have a red glow I feel like I am human again. Thanks.

Bishou: Uh... Your welcome I guess.

Then Hell fell to the ground and started to pass out.

Hell88: I'm glad I didn't kill any of you......

But when he wen't to sleep he kept on having dreams of DGK telling him what Nightwish's real secret plan is.

Mikke: Now what do we do? Now that we have Hell back.

Torren: Can't you feel it he has DGK's powers inside of him. We should keep him from Nightwish as he will want Hell back more than ever now.

Bishou: Don't forget about NSW, he will be after us now that we are already tired from battle.

Back at the clearing.

NSW: It seems Hell can go back to his human form now when he wants. This could be a problem if he can switch forms. Fenrir! Nesty! DefiledOne! Go after them!

The three cloaked warriors left and were ready to kill.

DefiledOne: I want Bishou! That woman nearly killed me! Its my turn to get her back!

Meanwhile

Nightwish: They only killed off that one nest of eggs? Well at least I still have the other five. *evil laughter*

Temptest: What should we do?

Nightwish: Oh yes the undead four. I want you guys to be my new personal bogygaurds.

End of Dark Beginning

To be continued...

[Tempest35]

Yuma: Guys! Guys~! *runs into the cave and doubles over, panting* You've got to....look at this!

Miria: What's the matter Yuma?

Yuma: *holds up a single letter* This!

Tabatha: *takes the letter and reads it silently* 0.0

Deneve: ... great, now let's all just take turns reading it silently...

Miria: *takes the letter herself* ... I don't believe it...

Helen: What's wrong Big Sis?

Miria: This letter...is from Rubel.

Clare: What!? How did he know that we were out here!?

Miria: I have no idea...he even got the cave number correct...*mumbles the last part* Anyway...we are invited to attend a secret hot springs resort. He says that 'everyone will be there'.

Helen: 'Everyone' as in...?

Miria: I have no idea but it says, 'A chance to see what you've once had and lost'. How typical of him to have it so cryptic.

Yuma: So can we go? *looks ever hopeful*

Cynthia: A hot springs resort? I've never been to one of them, are they fun?

Deneve: A very boring place, if you ask me.

Cynthia: Why?

Deneve: All you do is lounge around and soak up in hot water.

Tabatha: ... that does sound boring...wait, soaking in water...?

Helen: It's only as boring as the people there are. :P *pointed glance at Deneve, who turns her head away* We'll make games and such! It's like a sleep-over but longer!

Yuma: So can we go, Clare? Can we, can we?

Clare: *sweatdrop* Why are you asking me... Ask Miria, she's in charge.

Yuma: But you usually do things on your own so if you're going alone, I want to come!

Clare: *thinks* Damn, she saw right through me!

Miria: ... for some reason, I feel this urge to go and see this resort for ourselves. Relaxing in a hot spring sounds so very tempting...with a bottle of warm sake to boot...

Tabatha: *hyper active imagination kicks in of Miria seated on a rock, a towel draped sensually over her shoulder, her slender legs dangling in the warm steamy water, sipping delicately on her sake bottle with a contented sigh.*
... *nosebleeds exactly 4 seconds later*

Miria: *wondering why Tabatha suddenly ran for tissue* ... anyway, you girls want to go?

Deneve: This is strange. You don't even think that it's a trap or anything. Why is that Miria?

Miria: *shrugs* I can't be up-tight ALL the time.

Cynthia: Yay! No up-tightness! *cowers when Miria glares at her*

Yuma: Yay! So we're going to a real hot-springs resort!!

TBC...

Alright, if anyone wants to pick this up, be my guest. Basically, the premise is to have the Claymores at a Japanese-style Hot Springs resort/Onsen. By Claymores, I mean, the entire cast of the story - this includes 'dead' characters! Everyone's welcome to make an appearance so if you want your fave included - write them in!

Maybe this will kick some life into some people.

[hell88]

The seven ghosts in hot springs.... I feel life in me already! Wait dead charaters, that means Jean and Flora can be in it to, and Teresa and she can be with Irene! Oh my, my mind just went strait through the gutter.

BUT IF ANYONE PUTS RACHEL AND UNDINE IN IT I THINK I'LL CRY!

Oh wait I forgot Galatea! Wow that would be hot!

[Mikke]

Originally Posted by Tempest35

Yuma: Guys! Guys~! *runs into the cave and doubles over, panting* You've got to....look at this!

Miria: What's the matter Yuma?

Yuma: *holds up a single letter* This!

Tabatha: *takes the letter and reads it silently* 0.0

Deneve: ... great, now let's all just take turns reading it silently...

Miria: *takes the letter herself* ... I don't believe it...

Helen: What's wrong Big Sis?

Miria: This letter...is from Rubel.

Clare: What!? How did he know that we were out here!?

Miria: I have no idea...he even got the cave number correct...*mumbles the last part* Anyway...we are invited to attend a secret hot springs resort. He says that 'everyone will be there'.

Helen: 'Everyone' as in...?

Miria: I have no idea but it says, 'A chance to see what you've once had and lost'. How typical of him to have it so cryptic.

Yuma: So can we go? *looks ever hopeful*

Cynthia: A hot springs resort? I've never been to one of them, are they fun?

Deneve: A very boring place, if you ask me.

Cynthia: Why?

Deneve: All you do is lounge around and soak up in hot water.

Tabatha: ... that does sound boring...wait, soaking in water...?

Helen: It's only as boring as the people there are. :P *pointed glance at Deneve, who turns her head away* We'll make games and such! It's like a sleep-over but longer!

Yuma: So can we go, Clare? Can we, can we?

Clare: *sweatdrop* Why are you asking me... Ask Miria, she's in charge.

Yuma: But you usually do things on your own so if you're going alone, I want to come!

Clare: *thinks* Damn, she saw right through me!

Miria: ... for some reason, I feel this urge to go and see this resort for ourselves. Relaxing in a hot spring sounds so very tempting...with a bottle of warm sake to boot...

Tabatha: *hyper active imagination kicks in of Miria seated on a rock, a towel draped sensually over her shoulder, her slender legs dangling in the warm steamy water, sipping delicately on her sake bottle with a contented sigh.*
... *nosebleeds exactly 4 seconds later*

Miria: *wondering why Tabatha suddenly ran for tissue* ... anyway, you girls want to go?

Deneve: This is strange. You don't even think that it's a trap or anything. Why is that Miria?

Miria: *shrugs* I can't be up-tight ALL the time.

Cynthia: Yay! No up-tightness! *cowers when Miria glares at her*

Yuma: Yay! So we're going to a real hot-springs resort!!

TBC...

Alright, if anyone wants to pick this up, be my guest. Basically, the premise is to have the Claymores at a Japanese-style Hot Springs resort/Onsen. By Claymores, I mean, the entire cast of the story - this includes 'dead' characters! Everyone's welcome to make an appearance so if you want your fave included - write them in!

Maybe this will kick some life into some people.

Lol man.. Cave number! that's a good one..

Unlike the claymore though who probably know every single cave there is in the clayverse out of the need to hide, Rubel probably was just so bored out of his ass, he studied those caves and even gave them numbers just like the claymores..

loll

btw guys. join up and write E.S.S dang it! bish and hell are the only ones trying to hold it up but i got the feeling they're gonna give up soon.. This can be a lot of fun! doesn't anyone here like txt rpg? doesn't have to be official, just free form..

[shelter]

Originally Posted by hell88

Although that was pretty good, I have a question. Why do you always have to make your poems so depressing?!

You should make a poem about Helen and Deneve, that would be funny. It would probably be about Helen always being hungry and getting on Deneve's nerves.

But if you want to keep making depressing poems I think a poem about Irene would be pretty depressing. Or mabye Jean, or Raphaela, and of course mabye Clare.

Depressing? It's not that depressing, what!

Actually to tell you the truth, I really don't know. I think in generally the stuff I write goes with darker themes? And especially poetry, which is more emotional (not emo), tends to reflect that, I suppose.

Haha...I tried writing humour. But it was then when I realised I don't have much of a sense of humour...or maybe it's just dysfunctional. So darker stuff suits me - for now.

Thanks for pointing that out anyway, hell88.

@Mikke, you have a point about the meek thing. Hopefully there might be a few still left

[Mikke]

Epic Soul Searching - Mysts of the urban West - Part I
---------------------------------------------------------------------

Early signs of summer peeked from beyond the horizon, pushing the last of the black clouds over the western planes; to a point of no retreat - where releasing their last drops of warm rain, will be torn apart and perish in the reborn sunlight.

A month had passed, and nothing came about; no evil was lurking from the shadows that never escalated beyond that which was hidden from the light, and no epos of doom entailing the absolute, told of mayhem nor havoc across the awefully peacful land, nurtured by the last days of spring.

Seeing that the local conflicts in the south ceased, the western provinces opened the border; even though with strict moderation, the gates of the civilized west opened to the ones who sought refuge and wellfare. Among them were travellers, merchants, scholars and even some of the free lancers and deserters that fled from persecution. Hundreds upon thousands of people; some walking, some riding their carriages, made their way along the main road that lead to the first major town. Behind the high walls and fortified towers stood tall, rowed buildings with ribbed roofs, beautifull churches showing their pointed arcs and stained glass windows, malls, pubs and many other resorts to attract the eye of the wave of newcomers.

At the feet of the city, just beyond the gates was the trade center; countless tented counters and guild branches were offering many services. Blacksmiths, jewellers, caters, enterprisers and many others gathered by the numbers to greet the big crowd of potential clients.

Unlike the majority of the refugees who were merchants and peddlers, a distinct few strayed and scattered along the alleys, each to their own business. Among those were a group of five, wearing backpacks and patched, brown mantles. They walked casually in the narrow passages between the tightly built structures, slowly retreating from downtown and into the less lucrative quarters. Reaching a small, decent looking inn, the group took a stop.

At the lobby, they were greeted by a large man with black mustache, wearing a stained white blouse and an old tie.

Clerk: Yes sirs, a room for tonight? two hundred berras please..

Taking off his mantle first was Shelter, revealling his usual grin and curved eyes. Throwing a bag of money unto the counter, he adressed the clerk.

Shelter: Here, Take all of it..

Clerk: Wa.. wait that's too much!

Shelter: It's ok.. We have a rough night ahead of us so please be sure to take care of us..

Clerk: A.. rough.. night? *Oh man! Don't tell me they're in debt with the local guilds!*

- No worries, we can fetch for ourselves.. Just make sure the main door is shut for tonight - Said a female voice.

Leaving two people behind in the guest room, the remaining three, including Shelter went upstairs; locking the door behind them was Bishou and Wierdo right beside her. With a puzzled, yet somewhat confident look on his face, Shelter took a seat on the bed and locked his palms together, staring at the window.

A moment of silence had passed untill someone uttered in a clueless voice:

Wierdo: Umm.. Why is it you said you needed me for this?

Shelter: It's a matter that concerns the yoki sensitive.. Let's.. Put it this way for now.

Wierdo: Uuh..

Bishou: Ahw.. If it was up to me I wouldn't have chosen you..

Shelter: Our contact man is an old friend of mine. He should be here any minute now..

Bishou: Is he a part of the western section?

Shelter: No.. We fought together in the east once.. During better times when the conflict was focused there in it's most part..

Wierdo: Are you sure he can be trusted?

Shelter: No worries.. He's being well paid for the job, and not by us..

Bishou: Heh.. Well, I'd rather trust him than Hell.. After nearly becoming a cause of an all out war He's the last one I'm gonna trust..

Shelter: He can be trusted just as much as you can be.. Don't forget that you too have that heinous red eye syndrome.

In the meantime, downstairs, Mikke and Hell sat in the guest room wondering about the meaning of life.

Hell: Damnit.. Why are they taking so long?!

Mikke: I wanna get out into the city, buy myself a nice taco full of greesed beef and lettuce and chow it down with barrel sized glass of porter.. Chill down with some guildman's daughter..

Hell: Since when did you become a Don Juan?

Mikke: I just want to enjoy my life while I still can.. that's all..

Hell: You're acting as if you're gonna die tommorow..

Mikke takes out another paper handkerchief, rolls it into a ball and throws it in the direction of the trash can across the room, once again missing it.

Mikke: Seriously now man.. I'm tired of this crap.. Running away all the time, fighting for some unknown goal, trying to discover solutions to riddles I don't really care to know about.. Most of which is to serve Bishou's interests anyway..

Hell: What about avenging the death of your town's folk?

Mikke: Are you shittin me? If I wanted to do that I would've killed her there and then!

Hell: Man, you complain too much..!

Mikke: Oh for crying out loud..! You'd never know when those rotten red eyed ghouls show up and bite you in the ass..

Hell: Ahem!!

Mikke: Oh, sorry dude..

Back upstairs, someone else was heating up an argument.

Bishou: What the hell Shelter..! I thought that potion you gave me cured me of that thing!

Shelter: I thought so too.. It cured anyone I have ever used it on before.. As long as it's not too late..

Bishou: Wha?! What the hell are you trying to say?!

Shelter: Calm down.. I'm not sure, but you still emmit the dormant yoki signature..

Wierdo: Uuuh.. guys? I might have asked this before but..

Bishou: WHAT?!

Wierdo: are you sure it's not contagious?

Shelter: ....

Wierdo: I hope non of us got infected because that signature I felt from Hell and you just doubled itself..

Bishou: ?!

Shelter: See Wierdo this is why we need you.. On your feet people!

Crumbs of concrete came falling, caused by a slight tremor, sliding down a newspaper scroll Mikke was trying to read. Raising an Eyebrow and pondering for a moment; an instict served him well. Lowering his head an inch and flattening on the sofa was about enough to avoid whatever came breaking through the wall and reducing it to rubble.

Hell got a grab of his sword, facing a direct attack coming from the direction of the door, this time wiping out an angle of two walls along with a support column.

Mikke: Aaaaah! Geez! Holy meat Deneve almighty! See! See..! This is exactly what I'm talking about!

Hell: We just got in town.. Some greeting..

Reaching out to his swords in the corner Mikke managed to jump on his feet, dodging another cut, this time through the ceiling

Mikke: What the hell... are they upstairs or outside?!

Clerk: What is going on here..?! You're ruining the entire inn! the boss is gonna kill me!

Hell: It's not us damnit!

Using his newfound senses and abilities, Hell managed to get a hold of the strange yoki frequency coming from the next attack; instinctivly awakening his left arm, he grabbed the enemy by the wrist, twisted it and pulled them close with a quick jerk, causing them to drop their sword.

Mikke: One more of those columns goes down and this joint will collapse like janga..

Hell: Shut up and take out the other one!

A few seconds beforehand, just when Shelter, Bishou and Wierdo were about to blast out of the room and rush downstairs, a knocking at their door was heard. Opening it they saw a narrow eyed, white clad man standing in the corridor.

Shelter: So nice of you to drop by.. Is that your idea of a joke.. tracer of death?

Ergon: Do I look like a red eye creep to you?

Bishou: Death Tracer Ergon.... I've heard of you!

Ergon: I'm flattered..

Wierdo: Let's get outta here already!

Shelter: Lead the way old chump!

Back downstairs Mikke was already holding the other one in a scissor grab by the neck, decapitating him.

Wierdo: Looks like you guys held your own!

Mikke: Yeah! No thanks to you pot heads..! What the hell were you doing upstairs anyway?

Ergon: No time to explain follow me to the basement!

Mikke: Who the hell is that?! How did he get here?!

Shelter: get moving..!

Throwing a few more additional berras to compensate for the damage, the group headed for the basement; behind a huge rusty door they found a secret exit into the sewers.

Bishou: Awh.. It stinks in here! Is that your idea of a get away?!

Ergon: You'd rather face another ten of those guys back upstairs? you're like a beacon to them missy.. You have their mark and they can locate you anywhere in the bloody living world!

Hell: Are you saying we dragged them here?!

Ergon: Doesn't matter now they're already here.. A few miles ahead you'll find a blast door leading to HQ.. just follow the side walk, and don't fall into the sewer water!

Shelter: What about you?

Ergon: I gotta make sure you reach the boys and girls in charge.. Hehe.. They are paying me good money for it.. No offense man But I'm gonna stay here and hold off whoever tries to follow you..

Shelter: None taken.. See you later then..



To be continued.....

[weirdo487]

@mikke
I would be writing too but I've been to busy to write anything good for a while so don't give up everyone I should be able to start writing again soon.

@... well on the topic of shelter's earlier post
the dark themes may also come from the fact that its Claymore. Most of Claymore is dark so to write something closely paralleling it you need the dark themes otherwise it wouldn't sound like claymore, it would sound like people from claymore havening fun for a change.

[hell88]

(I have also been very busy but sence its the weekend where I live I had time to write up this. Hope you guys like it. Its continued off of Mikke's part.)

Epic Soul Searching - Mysts of the urban West - Part 2
---------------------------------------------------------------------

The five scattered down the sewers with Ergon staying behind to hold the attackers back. Before Ergon seperated himself from them he told Shelter to meet him somewhere but Shelter never told the others as he didn't have a chance to tell them where they were going to meet up because the group ran into a problem.

Mikke: This isn't good the sewer splits up into four!

Wierdo: What are we going to do?

Mikke: We should split up.

Bishou: What?! Well I'm not going alone in this place!

Shelter: This may weaken our chances of survival here.

Hell: That was insulting!

Shelter: ?

Hell: You should never insult a warrior like that when he has a plan.

Mikke: (Wow since when has Hell become such a good spokes person?)

Shelter: So be it, but we must somehow meet up with each other.

After saying that Shelter was the first to leave going down the first tunnel on the left. Mikke went down the tunnel next on the left.

Wierdo: Oh its like a game now! I'm gonna win!

Wierdo runs down the tunnel next to the right. Hell goes down the tunnel farthest to the right.

Bishou: Hey what about me!? I'm not going alone!

Bishou took a look at all four tunnels and senced Hell as the closest too her as he was the last to leave. Then she turned around and senced some strange yoki behind her.

Bishou: The right tunnel it is!

Bishou ran down the same tunnel that Hell did.

Shelter was the first person to make it to the exit. Which ended up being in the middle of the city. Mikke ended up falling out of his exit as the end of his tunnel ended up in a lake.

Mikke: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!

All that was heard around was a loud splash as Mikke fell into the water.

Mikke: Wow I wasn't expecting that. To bad I smell like garbage now. It looks like I ended up in the cities water disposal plant.

Wierdo: I hope I'm winning.

That was all he could say as he ran down the tunnel. He eventually wound up at a dead end.

Wierdo: Oh know I picked the wrong tunnel.

He could see the light on the other side as it was getting dark.

Wierdo: Oh know what do I do? I can't see in the dark.

Then Ergon came from behind him.

Wierdo: WAAAAAAAAAAH!

Ergon: Calm down it looks like you ended up in a dead end.

Wierdo: Are - are those guys still chasing us?

Ergon: No it seems they ran back to the centre of the city. Come on I'll help you get out of here.

Wierdo: Thanks.

Finally Bishou ended up coming to her exit. She saw an open gate.

Bishou: Hell must have gone through thier.

She opened the gate and walked out only to see the water exiting the tunnel and running down near a forest with a graveyard next to it.

Bishou: (Its getting dark out.)

Then she noticed she was in a graveyard.

Bishou: This place creeps me out! (Then again I think it suits Hell perfectly.) hehe

Hell walked out of the shadows from her right side.

Hell: What are you laughing at.

Bishou: AAAAAAAH!

Bishou jumped about ten feet in the air.

Bishou: Don't creep up on me like that in a place like this! What are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack!?

Hell: I'm suprised you fallowed me I was starting to think that you didn't like me.

Bishou: W-what?

Hell: Oh well it doesn't matter this place looks cool at night even now that the moonlight is lighting up the graveyard.

Bishou: Your a strange person you know that.

Back in the centre of the city Shelter is in an ally way as he noticed the same guys that attacked them earlier were fallowing him. But them he senced that there was more going to the places the others ended up. He noticed the only ones that were safe were Ergon and Wierdo as they were still in the sewers and all the guys that attacked them left the sewers.

Back at the lake Mikke ended up at.

Mikke: (I feel like I'm being watched right now.)

What Mikke didn't notice is that two cloaked people with red eyes watching him above flying in the dark sky.

Meanwhile at the graveyard Hell and Bishou senced they were being watched by four cloaked beings around them.

Hell: Hold on!

Hell grabed onto Bishou and ran into the forest surrounding them.

Bishou: That was fast!

Hell: Be quiet, were going to try and sneek away from them.

They started to whisper to each other instead of talk so it would be harder to be noticed.

Bishou: What were not going to fight?

Hell: We need to meet up with the others its our best chance. Besides we don't know what these guys can do.

Then Hell fell to his knees holding his head.

Hell: ACK!

Bishou: Whats wrong?

Hell: What do you want? I told you to stay out of my head!

DGK: You know very well what they can do boy! And how can I stay out of you when you ate me remember. I'm a curse to you now.

Hell: SHUT UP!

Bishou: Who are you talking to!?

Then the four cloaked beings jumped out at them. Bishou grabed on to her sword.

DGK: You can beat these guys! But let me out! Or let me take control of you.

Hell: I SAID SHUT UP!

Hell powered up his new yoki and was able to keep DGK out of his mind.

Bishou: WHAT WAS THAT?!

Hell: Don't worry, lets just say I don't like it when that guy decides to try and take control.

Then Bishou senced it she felt a small presence of DGK inside of Hell and how he tried to take over Hell's body and for the first time she felt a little sorry for him.

Hell: Now lets finish these idiots!

Bishou: Heh... You took the words right out of my mouth.

Hell grabed his sword and together they attacked the four cloaked warriors who dissapeared whenever they had an attack that landed.

Bishou: Are they ghosts or someting?

Hell: I don't know. I'm not sure what they are or who they came from to come after us!

The two of them kept on fighting the other four.

Mikke felt a strange presence above him coming for an attack, but he was one step ahead grabbing his swords and blocking both attacks from the flying claoked beings. When he looked at them when they attacked he could see underneath there hoods. They looked like mutants to him.

Mikke jumped back.

Mikke: What are you?

His question wasn't answered as they attacked him again.

Mikke: Looks like I'm going to have to do this the hard way.

Now climbing out of a sewer lid Ergon and Wierdo were in the city where they saw Shelter confronted by three claoked beings.

Ergon: We have to help Shelter.

Now it was a three on three fight in the city. Any of the residents that saw this ran off scared.

Shelter: Its about time you two got here.

Ergon: Sorry about that I don't think these guys will be a problem for the three of us.

Of course Mikke couldn't say that as he was out numbered and so was Hell and Bishou who were all fighting for there lives.

To be continued....

[Bikerider]

Yuma approaches Miria.

Yuma: ummm... Miria ? Could you ...umm.. ask Cynthia to practice her healing yoki manipulations with some one else for a while ?

Miria looks at Yuma and nods: Hmmm... I think you're right.

Yuma: I know I'm a defensive type and I do regenerate quickly... And... I know I need to be stronger... But I don't need two right arms to hold my sword.

Deneve, seeing Yuma and Miria looking at her: "Not a chance."

[Ryuken]

Originally Posted by Bikerider

Yuma approaches Miria.

Yuma: ummm... Miria ? Could you ...umm.. ask Cynthia to practice her healing yoki manipulations with some one else for a while ?

Miria looks at Yuma and nods: Hmmm... I think you're right.

Yuma: I know I'm a defensive type and I do regenerate quickly... And... I know I need to be stronger... But I don't need two right arms to hold my sword.

Deneve, seeing Yuma and Miria looking at her: "Not a chance."

That's good. I think it would look good on Deneve. Although she doesn't agree with me.

[hell88]

Originally Posted by Bikerider

Yuma approaches Miria.

Yuma: ummm... Miria ? Could you ...umm.. ask Cynthia to practice her healing yoki manipulations with some one else for a while ?

Miria looks at Yuma and nods: Hmmm... I think you're right.

Yuma: I know I'm a defensive type and I do regenerate quickly... And... I know I need to be stronger... But I don't need two right arms to hold my sword.

Deneve, seeing Yuma and Miria looking at her: "Not a chance."

Poor Yuma, mabye Deneve will chop off that extra arm. LOL

[Bikerider]

Helen is peacefully munching away on some dried fruit. Tabitha goes running passed as a speed Helen has never seen before.

Tabitha screams as she runs: "IT'S JUST A SCRATCH !!! I DON'T NEED ANY YOKI HEALING HELP !!!"

Cynthia, exhausted from running stops by Helen: "Is it my imagination or is everyone around here getting faster."

Helen: "Doughm affk me."

Cynthia: "Oh Helen. All that eating and not brushing your teeth. You could be developing a cavity." She closes her eyes to concentrate. "Let me---- uh ?? Now where did she go ?

[Ryuken]

Originally Posted by Bikerider

Helen is peacefully munching away on some dried fruit. Tabitha goes running passed as a speed Helen has never seen before.

Tabitha screams as she runs: "IT'S JUST A SCRATCH !!! I DON'T NEED ANY YOKI HEALING HELP !!!"

Cynthia, exhausted from running stops by Helen: "Is it my imagination or is everyone around here getting faster."

Helen: "Doughm affk me."

Cynthia: "Oh Helen. All that eating and not brushing your teeth. You could be developing a cavity." She closes her eyes to concentrate. "Let me---- uh ?? Now where did she go ?

Helen doesn't brush her teeth.

[shelter]

Wrote this short fic while studying a few days back. Now that my papers are all over, I can post it.

I'll probably leave it unedited, because I want to complete my other projects (Snakehead & my Clare fic) Also because it does not have any potential to become anything more. But hope it gives people ideas.

Spoiler for Burden:

Burden

1.
Number 8 “Windcutter” Flora carried with her a tiny wooden cross. It was strung through the centre by thin, fraying leather rawhide, and she had connected the ends in a hasty knot to create a loop. The loop was large enough for her to wear the cross around her neck. But that was against the Organization’s regulations, so instead she kept the cross stuffed in the hilt of her sword, with her Black Card.

When she and her team rested for the night, she would take out the cross. She would examine its chipped edges, and run her thumb down the contours of the now worn away figure in the middle. She would make sure no one saw her with it. They might interpret her obsession with the symbol as a sign of weakness, as proof that she was not an able leader. So she always kept the object stowed away.

Sometimes when she was certain she was alone, she would wear the object, looping the ends around her neck. It would fall and hang loose just above the symbol of identification the Organization had given her. She kept the cross, and wore it sometimes, not because she was religious. She could hardly tell what the word “religion” meant. But the cross had belonged to a young gentleman from a village in the far south. She had cleansed the young man’s town of yoma, saved him from yoma posing as his neighbours. At the end of the assignment, the young gentleman had offered her the tiny wooden cross as a token of thanks. Purely symbolic, he had said, but more so because you have a beautiful soul that bears much burden. She had waved him off, and told him to submit all payments to the Organization’s man in black. But she kept the cross. And she often wondered about that young gentleman.

It was uncommon for her kind to receive gracious comments of thanks. His token gesture (purely symbolic, was it?) was her first, and her only one. She kept the gift stashed away. But sometimes she would wear it, adorn herself with it, wondering loftily and idly, but wondering, whether that young gentleman had worn it also, and if he did so, she wondered if the cross hung right in the space right under his neck, and she wondered if he often caressed, and ran his hands over it like she did. And she often held the object in her palm, knowing it had once belonged to him, and that his human hands radiating their human warmth must have done the same.


2.
They were called Claymores. Most of them bore the name without complaint.

They bore the name like it was their label, like there was no other way to describe the occupation they committed themselves to do. They bore it with a muted indifference. Some bore it gladly. But most could not really care.

Most of the things they were burdened with were the results of combat requirement, the necessity in being a Claymore. They bore on their shoulders splaulders, twin blades of cast iron armour, which were heavy, but felt much heavier during hunts and missions. They bore on their arms vambraces, so that a desperate yoma could not wound their exposed arms. They had to strap them in place, yet during fierce battles they always ensured the exposed area where arm braces and the splauders met were always covered.

All of them bore the weight of metal sabatons, and the click click click of metal against earth when they made their long trips. Any footwear would’ve been fine, but it was standard issue from the Organization, and it added more weight to each foot. They were tough to run in, and weighed more in the water. As a final compliment to their armour, all of them wore faulds, the metal skirt meant to protect their thighs. They bore all that arnour silently, many believing its weight would mean the difference between life and death should the critical moment come.

They bore the standard list of stipulated items their handlers supplied them. They had been trained never to leave their contact points without these: a black cloak and several yoki suppressant pills. Most carried five, enough for a week. But the exact number of pills they were allowed to carry depended mostly on preference. Number 47 Clare carried fifteen pills. Number 3 Galatea carried only one. For the sake of emergency, I always carried ten. As for the black cloak, most carried with should the need to mix and mingle with humans arose. But it could serve other purposes too. For example, when Number 46 Eugenia was killed, Flora and her team wrapped her body in her black cloak and then buried her.

Most importantly, all of them bore the weight of that unmistakable sword, that deadly blade, their Claymore. It sheath they strapped to their armour, and with the Claymore in it, it weighed at least one stone. It was a willful, unfortunate burden they had to carry. It was by all accounts the heaviest burden of all. So much so that when Number 46 Eugenia was killed she fell under the weight of all that armour – and never got up again. Burdened to the point of death, one of her comrades had said.

By the time they had graduated from the academy, most of them could already bear the weight of that massive sword on one hand. In the case of Number 9 Jean, they said she had become adept at using her Claymore with both hands during her academy days – a skill only one or two in a generation would acquire. Then there was Number 11 Undine, who carried two Claymores, and she used them on anyone who challenged her self-imposed strongest of the Claymores title.

They bore their responsibilities to the Organization and humankind without so much as a complaint. And they bore themselves with a quiet understanding of the weaponry they could unleash.


3.
Flora bore the heavy, pressing weight of arnour and weaponry during an Awakened Being hunt in the Southwest. With three fellow warriors – Number 17 Eliza, Number 24 Zelda and Number 46 Eugenia – they bore their equipment and armour and silence and contempt for their Awakened foe across three provinces, nine days of travel on foot, across streams and up mountains and through the valleys which followed. This was the country they knew well – the country of the sword, the country ruled by sword and yoma.

They had not talked much. All they needed were introductions and queries about ranks to establish who would lead the hunt. Throughout their nine days’ trek, led by Flora and a persistent order to eliminate a rogue Awakened Being, they did not talk much. They did not know it then, but one would not make it out of the hunt alive, and the other three would not talk about the hunt till their reunion in Pieta.

As they stopped for their final rest on their seventh day, Flora had quietly excused herself from the detail. She was not in the mood to talk. She had known all three of them for only a week anyway, and their socializing had consisted of nothing more than walking.

Away from prying eyes she had unlocked the hilt of her sword, and she fished out the wooden cross. For a while she imagined the young gentleman, his wowed eyes, his gentleman’s gait, his soft-spoken tone. She imagined the young gentleman as he had strode up to her, unafraid of the stains of yoma blood on her tunic or debris of slaughtered yoma strewn all around her feet. She imagined him as he placed his gift into her open palms, brushing his hands against hers. Would he have felt how delicate her small hands were? Would he have seen the hands of human, and not a Claymore?

She imagined these things as she held the small wooden cross up to the light of the falling sun. Some birds were arguing in the trees nearby, and she was sure her comrades were not watching. So she slipped the cross over her head and wore the object, displaying proudly what was – and would be – the only gift she would have ever received from a human.


4.
They bore their burdens silently, mutely, for there was no one to tell, and there was no one to listen – save each other.

To some extent some of the things they bore were unnecessary, part of their imagination, mere good luck charms to keep their mind off the numbing repetition of missions. As the highest ranked of her team, Flora had her tiny wooden cross. Flora did not know it then, but before she died Number 46 Eugenia always carried with her a handwritten note from a fellow trainee. Number 24 Zelda was in the habit of plucking flowers, especially dandelions, and curling their little stems around the hilt of her Claymore, even in the midst of battle. Number 22 Helen carried extra rations, mostly in the form of apples. Number 31 Tabitha would pick mint leaves off the shrubs and crush them in her hands. She honestly believed they would bring her good luck in battle. Before she was killed in the northern skirmish, Number 7 Eva would anoint her Claymore with fresh water before going into a fight.

And Number 47 Clare bore the weight of a human life – a boy named Raki – willingly, beautifully (and some would say lovingly) through battle, hardship and separation.

Call it superstition, but they were Claymores, and they believed no power would save them, no divine hand could rescue them, save their own belief in such meaningless, pointless rituals. The mere act of doing them kept their mind away from the horrible reality of being killed on a mission, or worse, awakening to a general darkness, a sharpened sense of desire and a voracious hunger for human flesh.

And so many of these superstitions passed into lore, and eventually became the truth, the means to which these young women lived their short, anguished, blood-filled lives.


5.
On the ninth day, Flora and her team were ambushed by an Awakened Being.

Early in the morning, along a rocky stream – it used the cover of the long grass to launch an attack which separated Flora from her team. The monster was not very smart, and from what Number 17 Eliza said, the battle just took a mere fifteen minutes, and a double onslaught of Flora’s signature move – the “Windcutter” – before the creature was reduced to a lonely blinking head in the middle of that distant meadow.

But before it attacked, Flora was not thinking about the mission, neither was she thinking about her team-mates. She had ventured ahead, lost in the morning and the meadow and the scenery, lost in her thoughts. At that very instance, moments before the Awakening Being attacked, Flora would admit she was thinking about the wooden cross dangling from her neck, the young gentleman who had probably worn it below his shy smiling face and the way his hands had probably caressed the wooden emblem whenever he was deep in thought – like she was doing now –

And then the Awakened Being struck.

It looked like an ordinary yoma. Only bigger, with a tough outer carapace of hardened spikes and armour, and longer arms. It had extended its fingers in its first attack. But by making the first move it had given away its position, and standing out from the tall grass like a sore thumb, Flora could sense the uneven yoki, its indecision.

Her hands were still pressed over that tiny wooden cross hanging around her neck as she recalled their battle strategy: in pairs, attack the monster from both sides. But now separated from her other three teammates by the yoma’s extended fingers, she was exposed, alone, an easy kill. Without thinking she motioned for Eliza and Zelda to engage, and for Eugenia to join her. And they obeyed.

It all happened very fast. Eliza and Zelda sprung at the monster. Eugenia used this distraction to join Flora. The Awakened Being saw the move. It struck its arm out at Eugenia. Its fingers extended. One hit her square between the eyes. She stopped running and, weighed by all that armour, fell down and did not get up.

For a short moment Flora could not believe what had happened. But being a leader, she had a mission: kill first, then tend her teammate later. After all, Eugenia was just injured, wasn’t she? So she advanced, and when she was in range, drew her sword at the monster so fast that the offending arm that had struck at Eugenia disintegrated. Eliza and Zelda had made short work of the other. Outnumbered and limbless, the monster made a foolish attempt to run, but Flora, frowning for the first time, struck one last time, cleaving its legs at the knees. And Eliza and Zelda chopped all the way up, leaving a torso and a head lying in the grass.

Zelda wondered if Eugenia was all right. Worried that she had not seen her, Flora would have walked back to where her teammate – the lowest and weakest of her team – was lying motionless in the grass. Her hands would have been still clasped around her sword, all her armour would have not been penetrated. But her entire right cheekbone would have been blown away, and Flora would have grimly pulled out the monster’s finger from Eugenia’s face. It had gone clean through the bridge of her nose, exiting her temple at the other end. There was hardly any blood. It was a clean kill.

And Flora screamed. A long, single chorus of unrestrained anger.


6.
Together, as sisters, they bore the stigma of being a Claymore. They all bore the burden of being thought of as more monster than human.

They would walk among humans using every restraint and every last bit of their self-control, bearing the names they would hear whispered from the tongues of frightened men, jealous women, angry mothers and crying children. Witch, demon, monster, beast, infidel, jezebel, temptress, scum, heathen, unsaved, killer, evil one, dweller of the dark, child of the devil. They bore the names; they bore the collective shame and scorn; they bore the disdain, the hate of their fellow humans.
They bore their public disgrace in private, moving from town to town, killing the same foe, mission after mission, a continuous eternal cycle of service for those who hardly gave a word of thanks.

And they bore the tense burden, the immediate fear of waking up to become something that they were not. Something darker, more sinister than their own public degradation – the personal descent of the soul, the going-under into a point of no return, the giving in to the indwelling of an evil spirit, which made them do things that they had been taught as abominable, the very things they were meant to protect humanity against.


7.
As Flora prepared Eugenia’s body for burial she wrapped her comrade in the black cloak, and ordered Eliza and Zelda to prepare a shallow grave. She removed the black card from the hilt of Eugenia’s sword. And there she found two pieces of parchment, yellowed and torn, as thin as leaf, filled with unintelligible scribbling, in a language Flora herself could not understand.

As she removed all of Eugenia’s armour, as they lowered her into the grave, as Zelda insisted on plucking flowers and lining the grave with it (because ditching a body into a hole in the earth was just wrong, she insisted), as Flora took the letters, the mysterious good luck charm that had helped Eugenia survive until now – she wondered how things would have been different had she been paying attention, had she not been thinking about that young gentleman, about her own token symbol.

But there was nothing to be done now, and there was nothing that could be undone either. All there was to do was for Flora to return to headquarters at Staff and report another Claymore killed in combat and return her comrade’s black card to her handler. But for now, as they sunk the sword atop Eugenia’s grave, Flora stooped low at the freshly dug earth, her fingers running over the wooden emblem still hanging from her neck. Zelda was plucking flowers. Eliza stood nearby. None spoke, not wanting to appear impatient.


8.
But above all their burdens, the weight of their own armour, the loads heaped upon them by their human brethren out of spite, they bore their own personal grievances. They bore ambition, grievances, personal trauma, promises of their fellow slain, and most of all, revenge.

Flora bore the burden of her own mistakes, and the resolve not to put the lives of those under her in danger. Number 11 Undine, strongest of the Claymores she might have been, bore the desire to feel strong, and in doing so wipe away that treacherous feeling of helpless weakness. Number 15 Deneve bore a similar helplessness: a crazed self-destructive guilt which, she claims, is as threatening an emotion as awakening. And they all bore their tragedies: yoma intruders consuming family members, brothers, sisters, mothers, husbands – the unforgotten fear, the panic, pure and undefiled, and the blurring of all memories with tears. They drove some into recklessness: before she died, Number 46 Eugenia’s held bitterly onto one wish – to live out the promises detailed in the letters which she carried, to have her own family, to be admired for being a young lady, to laugh and not be laughed at.

But she did not get to fulfill that promise.


9.
In the evening after they had buried Eugenia, the remaining three warriors from the hunting team gathered around a fire. Flora kept watch all night, even after sleep overtook both Eliza and Zelda.

Then she opened the hilt of her sword, took out the wooden cross and the pieces of parchment she had found with Eugenia. She cast the parchment into the fire, watching the flames lick the browned paper into ashes. She watched gingerly as the ashes died in the glow. And then she thumbed the wooden cross, and burned it too.

Morning would come, she knew, and they would have to trek nine days back to their rendezvous, and perhaps several more to reach Staff. She would report Eugenia’s death. She would take full responsibility for the error, for her dead comrade. Whether or not she would receive a censure she didn’t bother, at least not then. She was a team leader: she needed to show both Eliza and Zelda she was capable of accepting her duties.

She was also a Claymore, and warriors such as her had no need for dreams. No need for crosses or flowers or letters written on parchment. No need for fantasies involving grateful young gentlemen from previous missions. No need for thanks or sympathy or empathy or grace. The mission – yes – all that mattered was the mission. Kill the yoma. Yes, that was all that mattered.

Comments definitely welcome. This fic won't be going up on FF.net anyway.

@Hell88 - I think you might be disappointed. It's not exactly a very happy fic.