It was that time of the day when the Village of Rabache would be busy. Herding cattle, trading in the center and the rambunctious noise resonating from the local tavern while the children play outside; dancing to the tune it plays. Farther out of the village was a cottage where people were visiting to receive their daily blessings, kneeling down before the local priest as he gave a sermon to the people in front of a small shrine of the gods Teresa and Clare, providing the serfs a wish for prosperity from the twin goddesses. The sun shined brightly at the moment of spring; it's land that you would expect from a Medieval setting; open fields and green vegetation to help the village sustain itself.
*CRASH*
The sound of a window being smashed apart reverberates in the village as the body of a man is seen falling with great force to the center of the populace, glass spilling around him afterward. The man's eyes are blank leaving an empty stare that further horrifies the people when it would confirm the man's death. Women covered their children's faces and tucked them behind while the men turned in panic; attempting to catch sight of the murderer who caused this tragedy with only the abyss of darkness staring back at them from the second floor up to the Tavern building.
It's in this brief moment people take a glance at the corpse that was missing it's stomach with scratch marks all over. The entrails that were missing from the body would drop as if they were discarded, falling from the building above. The organs land next to the body as people stare with their mouths agape as the expected horror seeps fear into their skin, spreading like the venom of a serpent.
A violent tragedy has once again taken this village by storm as panic arises amongst the populace.
"Y-Yoma!" screeched a guard at his post, his hand tightening around the axe that was held on his side.
"The Yoma caused this!" A peasant woman panicked, her breath quickening as she came to grasp this knowledge.
A twin set of wooden doors burst open as the Village Elder was the first to appear with few guards remaining close behind him, weapons drawn. Climbing down the rocky steps from where his home is he approaches the body at the center of the community where the rest of the buildings are settled, ignoring the Guards hasty caution. He breathes in a deep sigh as his eyes close in pity for the fallen man, his aged visage appearing older than what it was mere seconds before as the bottom part of his robe became tainted by the blood of the corpse when it spreads on the ground.
"This is the third time this month, we must call for a Claymore…"
The declaration had the captain of the Guard quickly gather the remaining gold pieces from the Elder's Office, placing the required amount for hiring a Claymore in a small sack while the serfs began cleaning up the road, ridding of the corpse as they cover their noses whilst commencing the dirty deed. The Elder reaches into his pouch, pulling out a note wrinkled from age; saving it until needed. He beckons for the messenger of the village to ensure the note makes its way toward the organization. A funeral was prepared for the victim soon after, the family gathering to weep for their fallen relative and blood.
Concern and doubt could only worsen.
Broad and heavy steps can be heard in the distance, the clinging of armor linked together only adds to the rhythm of the marching steps of a man who is committed, leaving footprints on the dusty road that come from the boots he wears made out of sleek and hardened material. His full form appears out of the shade coming from underneath the tall trees dressed with thick branches and leaves as the wind begins to blow harshly, parts of the plants falling to the ground in wavy motions.
Covered from head to toe is armor colored in white which reflects the sun's glare. He is an imposing warrior standing at an impressive six feet and two inches in height with a build which to the eye would be lean with broad shoulders; his head is covered by a Bascinet helm with it's pointed apex reaching to the skull, and extending downwards at the rear and sides to afford protection for the neck, the eye holes open enough to reveal his glowy silver eyes from beneath similar to a cats eye in the night as a visor is in place to open and close. A number is planted on the right side of his chest plate that was on his breast, revealing it to be "Twenty-One" while an engraving on both of his shoulder pads and his claymore carry his own symbol. Three circles which consecutively get smaller to the center acting as shields. The armor pieces hold scars he still keeps proudly, scratch marks that are small and large, most on the chest plate. An amulet swung back and forth below his neck, only attached with a simple string to hold the treasured item for him. The symbol is an angel hoisting her sword into the air, its flying figure above the heads of Demons, an inscription written at the bottom of the amulet.
Rabona guides the sword of those worthy.
His gauntleted hand extends, grabbing hold of a fragile leaf which was on its descent to the ground with a speed that is blindingly fast and accurate to a normal person. A thumb gently strokes the stem as he halts his steps, appearing to be in remembrance before moments later throwing the plant organ away. Forcing himself to press on and not dwell any longer as his destination towards the new village which was built by new settlers from another district gets closer to him. The leaf turns to a crisp as it reaches the ground.
Standing atop the hill he could see the full view of the place he needed to head towards. He could see from above that the center of the village had just been cleaned up due to the stains of dry blood that litter nearby walls still and the putrid smell of a corpse when he approached the front gate, descending from the hill to get back on the road that leads to the entrance. He held no expression for the dead, experienced as he is in this profession, but he muttered a word of prayer as his eyes appeared downcasted at the corpse which looked to be prepared for a pyre, its stomach missing all its organs with a line of entrails that have been recovered put next to the body. He stepped up onto the pyre, his hand hovering above the man's face before closing his eyelids, allowing him to rest peacefully in death.
As he walked inside of the village through the open gate he saw a mass of movement coming in his direction. His appearance alone has the people gather around in a rush, with Guards in the forefront, cautious after the recent attack in the village. They see what appears to be a knight of high nobility due to the seemingly pristine quality of armor that the tall man wore alongside the beautifully made Greatsword on his back. Some can see the silver eyes the man possesses underneath the helmet as they hold their breath in shock, their appearances shaking as he lifts up his visor, revealing his organ of sight in its full entirety above a strong jawline. His eyebrows are well-balanced and contoured with a nose that has a straight bridge, free of any humps or curves along with features which are resilient and attain the youthful vigor that upholds him with handsome features.
"It's the witch! It came!"
"That's no witch, it's a man! A Marauder for the Organization!"
"What kind of armor is that?"
"He's built like a bull!"
"Those are some nasty looking scars on his armor…"
"I heard rumors but I never believed there was a male Claymore…"
The clamoring noises begin to rise before the numbered man raises his fist up in the air. The totality of people gathered at the village became silent as he extends his finger and points to the closest Guard whose hand hovers over his weapon, his arm shaking.
"Bring me to the Elder post haste, Guardsman. This village has called for a Claymore."
His voice was harsh and authoritative, both of which came from a lifestyle of discipline and order.
"A-aye, sir!" His steps were rushed and all could see him stumble as he reached the steps up the Elders villa, more than likely trying to distance himself as far from the Armored man as is.
Taking off his bascinet helm before his mail coif was dragged down to the back of his neck, revealing short and messy blonde hair, he follows the Guard up the stony path, holding the armor piece to his side. Commoners move out of the way as he marches up to meet with the Village Elder that contacted the Organization, climbing the smooth steps.
As he reaches to the top where the home is the warrior notices what he could assume was the Elders family, the wife keeping her child close to her side and look away from his eyes. She forced the child to do the same.
Looking back forward he gets to see the full exterior of the Elders house. It looked as if a master mason had it built with its pleasant white walls and red tiles on the roof, there would be artistic pottery aligned next to a small garden with few flowers in variety. Chickens scurry off when he approaches the front door of the house, entering through the well-crafted door made of oak wood as the guard opened it for him.
The village must be prosperous for it to be able to afford this decoration. They can pay the Organization fee.
The room was well kept for the most part with the only light source coming from the opened twin doors and a window at a distance. It had the basic essentials it needed with its well comfortable chair and cushioned bed to satisfy any leader of its own community. He could smell mutton being cooked in the Elders dedicated Kitchen as he gets closer to the table where he is seated, a cup of wine in the corner alongside a drawing depicting a woman with a similar appearance to the mother outside, doe-eyed with a plush smile, confirming his assumption. The old man's face is sullied and there is desperation in his eyes as he rises from the chair with the grace of an old decrypt man and approaches the Claymore from around his table.
"I-I am so glad you came! Please look at the coins in the sack, it should be enough!"
The numbered Warrior nodded his head, his hand taking hold of the sack as he felt the coins spill through his fingers, counting the pieces until it was a sufficient amount. Most sisters in his Order would not even bother chipping through pieces like this, he, however, kept the common people as a concern, not allowing them to suffer due to pitiful greed and even paying from his own pouch to ensure this if he was able to as the organization does not take slights against them. No matter how small.
"You have enough." Number 21 states, sliding the coins back into the sack. "I will be on the search for the Yoma that plagues this town, ensure your people are safely sheltered and the guards are on constant patrol, especially at night, understand?"
"Of course, sir, I will do as you say…" The Elder glances up to see his eyes due to their height difference only to notice the amulet the numbered warrior wears. "And may Rabona guide you, Claymore."
He grasped his amulet in response, nodding at the human. "Rabona protects us."
As he exits through the door, his eyes scan around the Village, trying to pick up the scent of any nearby Yoma brash enough to try its chance to feast on the people on the same day. He gets looks from the peasants and guards alike, almost all of them taking shelter inside of their homes with a few going back to their tasks, avoiding the Claymores gaze as he scans around, with both groups disturbed by his quick actions. Hours would pass by in the morning as he continues his patrol, keeping himself within a distance of the homes to memorize the place before finding a good vantage point; a hill which towers over the place, it would provide him a good ambush point.
After confirming that there is no creature to slay, he heads to the Tavern, introduced to the old worn outdoor, which retains similar scars to his armor albeit bigger with scratch marks the size of a longsword, further proving Yoma's activity in the area. As he stepped inside there was a dead silence, the only sound coming from the armor he wore as he approached the counter where a sweaty innkeeper was continuing the services as the customers gave frightened looks on him. He pulls out a pouch, the sounds of coins clinking inside.
"Wine, innkeeper. How much for a jug?"
As people watch him intensely, the innkeeper rushes for the jug, setting it on the counter. His eyes bulge as he looks up at the imposing warrior.
"I-it's free, sir! No charge!"
A frown is set upon his features, his hands digging deeper as the noise of coins fills the air. The presence of an unfavorable disposition has patrons on the edge of their seats, gasping intake of breath for what is to come. "I do not deal in unfair trades unless it is the enemy I quarrel with, you and I are friends. It is only the Yoma I seek to destroy the same as you. How much?"
I will not have their fears be my gain.
The innkeeper appears baffled by what he has just heard from the mouth of one of the silver-eyed creatures. His expression softens later on as he speaks in a calmer voice.
"Only five gold coins, Friend."
He can tell the innkeeper was not used to referring to his kind in this way. Nonetheless, he gratefully accepts the jug after the necessary coins were dropped. He found his spot in the farthest corner of the Tavern, a place convenient for him to sit and drink even if he was aware of the people who watch him akin to a hawk. All the chairs were empty and the table was of a respectable size, fitting up to four customers. People in the tavern appeared more relaxed the longer he was seated, not bothering any of the serfs but still had at least one eye on him at all times. Noise would gradually rise as conversations were exchanged between others, some speaking about his civility with the Innkeeper. It seemed he appeared less of a monster to a few. Very few.
The Claymore would be deep in his thoughts as he drinks more of the wine, pouring it in cups and drowning it down. There were many things he could think about, being a veteran of the Organization. Training alongside his brothers in the Order when it was first formed as his is head was filled with the hopes and dreams of being a savior of humanity, getting into fist fights with Dauf, the dim-witted muscle-bound warrior over minor disputes, sparring Isley in equal ferocity as a challenge as his grace with the blade and mannerisms was upheld with a dangerous edge to it and Rigardo being the competitive person he is trying to always pull a one up above everyone else. On rare days they would gather at an empty tavern drinking and singing along to share tales to boost their accomplishments after a hard Yoma hunt. One which stuck out the most was the first group operation that was a success, it made him stand on top, his selfless actions causing the innocents almost at the expense of his own life resulted in the Organization rewarding him with the armor he wears today for his great renown. From what he heard, the cost is dug deep into the Organization's funds to make and manufacture, which explains why it isn't replicated for all Claymores. He wears the armor for protection and as a symbol of pride, a past that was lost.
While the armor provided him with great protection against the vicious attacks of Yoma, the heavyweight limited his mobility compared to his more acrobatic and agile sisters in the Organization, a drawback he accepted and adapted in overtime. He found it practical with the way he fought. While other Claymores would keep a fair distance from the more dangerous types, waiting for a weakness so they land a lethal blow similar to a hunter, he instead had a fighter approach that fought against the confrontation in full. It never meant he avoided taking advantage of the environment if it suited his traits, however.
These old memories only bring in pain when he recalls the downfall of the era, how his brothers awakened in a violent fashion as their pleasure-filled yells covered the air, their distorted forms forcing his hand into slaying the creature before it could fully finish its transformation and while fighting one at full transformation barely came out alive after the former claymore was killed. A sermon from him would follow as he states his invocation of the fallen warriors' eternal rest, stabbing his sword to the ground as his head leaned forward in prayer. He was always known for his piety. His faith and conviction against all odds. From the very beginning when he held onto his brothers after the surgical transformation to a half Yoma, trying to bring comfort within the whirlwind of pain which was amongst them with his mutterings of encouragement amongst the mass of shouts and screams. His actions placed him as number four of the male Claymores as his morale boost was a great motivator alongside his impressive defensive techniques and sheer durability and strength alongside the unique talents he possesses, on par with Dauf if he was reasonably intelligent.
It took him great willpower and penance to restrain himself from awakening after he had lost all he cherished. He took to whoring and drinking to quill the temptation further; cursing himself along the way as he remembered their unwillingness to bed half Yoma. The owners of those brothels were more than happy with the fat coins at such a measly expense to them. He felt disgusted by his actions, but those are sins he shall bear until he took it to the grave.
Further shame was brought forth while later in the Generations Teresa of the Faint Smile had fallen to her comrades, he always knew her from her initial sequence, training her with being on the defensive if given the opportunity and a first-hand witness to her power and potential to be the most powerful of the generation, climbing the ladder to great lengths. He was greatly upset as she was marked for death, furthermore as Priscilla, the trainee who followed his teachings and sense of honor closely even with their different approach to fighting turned into an awakening being when she was sent to slay Teresa. An order that baffled him. They shared tales and laughs with one another and him as the only fellow warrior who saw kindness within her that was underneath an unbreakable shell. As time passes on, ranks were rapidly adjusted and he still managed to remain in the Organization throughout all eighteen years earning him the title of "Paladin" among his peers.
And more recently there is Clare…
But for now, wine kept him in good company. While it was unable to cause him to be a drunkard he appreciated the taste and the buzz it provided to soothe him.
While he is fulfilling his ambitions as the protector of humanity, it comes at a great cost of holding a large burden on both shoulders...
His thoughts were interrupted as he spotted two newcomers coming to the tavern, one wearing a robe which showed him as a priest for Teresa and Clare, with the two deities shown on the front appearing to be drawn with a brush. The details managed to catch the twins in good light, with both wings and face respectively showing their accuracy even with the limited tools used. His hair is short and grey, his face aged with eyes full of wisdom and accomplishment in the light. The beard would short, cut to a stubble.
The person next to him, however, was much younger, at least in his teens. His hair was as brown as a common branch with a plain face, an attractive part of him was the enthusiastic emotion he openly expresses. A welcome trait to see nowadays in human life. He looked excited recently, always staying behind his father and sharing his experience in joy, giving his brown eyes life.
Helps me retain hope in humanity
His mind returns to drifting in the shadows of his past, head downcast.
Seeing them approach the counter, he returns to his daily routine of drinking his wine before being pulled into reality, noticing that two of the strangers approach him moments later. The older man held a serene smile while the child appeared more nervously then he was before, confidence draining. This catches the attention of all of the witnesses in the tavern, sweat dripping from their pores as they anticipate a sudden violent confrontation with one of the Organizations creatures.
"Father, please!"
The cautious child attempts to rear back his father by the robe but alas the father remains unfazed, his head bowed forward as an act of respect in the Claymores direction. Confusion rises within him as he did not expect newcomers to treat him in this manner. He remains composed, however, nodding in gratitude at the display. His right-hand shifts uncomfortably on the table as he was anxious to continue downing his drink.
"Do you mind if my son and I have a seat here? I have a drink we can all share in prosperity."
"Yes I do mind, why do you approach me in such an uncaring way? Surely you are not blind, Priest. You see my silver eyes." The warrior is skeptical of this exchange, he welcomes a conversation. But is caught off guard by the willingness to approach him, a Silver-Eyed monster in this way. People in the tavern are giving the Priest heated glares, not wanting him to disturb the Giant in the tavern.
"I see no reason to be suspicious towards you. You have been civil thus far, friend. I am Godfrey, Priest of Teresa and Clare." He points behinds him, gesturing to the teen behind him before patting his shoulder "And this is my son, Raki. A good lad."
Moments of hesitation would ensue, his head moving forward as the warriors glare piercing as he stares at both of their eyes inquisitively. The Father does not appear to be fazed by the action but he could tell there was a shift of movement in a panic his breath quickening he longer this goes on. He turns directly to Raki who fares worst, his right hand gripping his elbow in as an act of comfort but his looks were curious, they did not avoid his stare alongside his father. The Patrons, however, were all looking from a fair distance and away from his sight. A dead silence rings in the tavern.
"Aye, you can join in." His voice is calm, leaning back as both chairs were scooted, leaving them enough space to sit down. He respected their bravery. "My name is Talic, Number 21."
Noise begins to pick up once again in the tavern, more rumors to be spread about this incident with the local priest of this village. Godfrey sits down next to Talic, careful not to spill any drinks next to the Claymore as he lays his own in front of the warrior. A warm smell comes from inside the mug, herbal effects meant to soothe the body.
"A strong name, warrior. Care for a drink?" The priest lets out a long breath as he relaxes next to the unusual guest of the village, shifting his robes underneath the table.
Talic reaches to grab the mug, drinking it down after sniffing for any dangerous contents left inside, making use of his enhanced ability to detect a scent. The taste of tea was strange to him but it was satisfying, the smell of it helped to ignore the musky smell present in the tavern.
"Thank you. I never expect this hospitality." conversation ensues after that, Raki would be on him the moment he became comfortable in his presence, asking questions left and right. The chatter grew from there as the Priest, for the most part, remained silent, allowing his son to satisfy his curiosity.
"How do you yield that massive sword?!"
"Practice, boy."
"Could you teach me? I want to protect myself and my father!"
"A noble deed but there is a Yoma to hunt now."
"Maybe we could find the time! Father said we are going to have a celebration!"
Godfrey chided in. "We were thinking about purchasing fine carpets to make for a presentable celebration, this Yoma tragedy has grieved many of us for such a long duration. We can only pray that there is sun after the storm, this is our home after all and to have it be taken over in an instant..." Godfrey finished loosely, a sigh escaping from him as he stares down in silence. Prayer escaping from him as he attempts to find comfort in divinity.
Godfrey was surprised when he felt a strong grip on his shoulder, he turned around to come face to face with silver eyes that were determined and unbreakable, an expression which yielded to none.
"We must stay strong in these times to persevere, priest. Rabona watches over us under her wings, I swear to smite this Yoma in the darkest of nights where I know it shall appear." These words gave him a sense of resolve, he bowed his head down. A sense of hope overcoming the priest.
"Bless you, Talic. May Teresa and Clare watch over you."
Finishing his drink he gets up from the poorly kept wooden chair, getting the full attention of the people in the tavern as they just witnessed a human have a full conversation with a claymore without his skin torn off in an instant. As he approaches out of the entrance, he turns around and stares into the priest's eyes.
"This Yoma shall be slain by my hand, I honor my oath to the organization to kill the creatures who slaughter humans similar to cattle. Keep this in mind, Godfrey." He turns to Raki.
"Take care of your father, he is a good man."
His mail coif would slide up onto his head before his visored bascinet was put back on, striding outside.
The night was dark. Sounds of crickets could be heard at great distances accompanied the occasional howling of a wolf, with no light source around any normal human would be blind to this environment. The Villages lights, for the most part, were snuffed out but there were Guards on the patrol, checking closely on all the nearby buildings and cottages for any Yoma activity to handle; weapons in their hand.
Talic is knelt down on the ground on top of the vantage point, giving him the ability to overlook the entire village. His eyes turned yellow to scan his surroundings for any hostile targets as his training was kicked in and his breath was kept steady to focus on his surroundings. He can sense the Yoma from a great distance from the hill he was at, his legs pumped with muscle using a small amount of Yoki to give them the strength to propel himself when the time arises. The rustle of bushes would be heard while moths fly above his head. He was not tempted. Moments would pass by with nothing transpiring, but he remains vigil in his duty.
"He is quite something, Father, a Claymore!" Raki was cleaning up the cottage where he and his father live, the scrubbing the tables and floors as he prepares for hopefully a good day, the place was on the lower end of the class but nonetheless well kept and maintained due to the Godfreys strict manner in cleaning and Raki's effort in his tasks. He was currently sweeping the floor with a cloth, diligent in his task.
Godfrey looks up from his book, his blue eyes becoming wary. "I cannot help but agree with you, Raki, but it's late at night. You can finish the chore later."
"Father, what about the Yoma?" Raki's brown orbs were shown with fear. "We should not be caught sleeping when they come to eat us..."
Godfrey nodded in understanding before glancing down at the ring he held between his forefingers; a ring he gave to his wife in marriage after he was fortunate enough to purchase it. His heart sinks down as he recalls the memory of their time together raising Raki, from the day he was born to the moment she was stricken with the plague and inevitably was embraced by death due to the cold from a rare winter season. He was hopeless. Felt useless when he could do nothing to save her. But he still had Raki to take care of and even in the darkest of times as he is alone in his thoughts Raki comes to cheer for him, still the enthusiastic child that he is. He is proud to have a wonderful son.
But there were certain moments where he truly was worried about his sons genuine curiosity, Raki as the person to introduce the idea of Claymores being heroes as he hears the stories of them, the slayers of Yoma was an inspiration to him and he wanted to one day fight as a Knight that is devoted to the people. It is a child's fantasy to be sure but it gave him a new perspective on them as a whole, opening his mind to humanity they may possess. Unfortunately, the last time he had ever seen a warrior was one where she looked purely predatorial, eyes widened in excitement with the sight of bloodshed as she soaked her sword and braided hair at once in blood with bliss in her expression. He was glad she left the instant she was done with the task.
When Talic arrived through the gate it was almost a contrast to what he had seen from the previous Claymore, Godfrey saw his eyes stern and experienced but compassionate and was open to speaking with others. He arrived at the tavern with Raki behind him, expecting the Claymore to shove them off when he asked if he could have a seat alongside him only to be in shock when Talic openly invited them to sit after analyzing them, an understandable action for a person in his position. It must have been strange for the Half-Yoma to be approached without spite. Conversations with him at the table were interesting, with most of them filled with Raki asking him questions that he yearned to know for so long with only calm and civil responses sent back by the that has the patience of a saint.
But most surprising was when the warrior grabbed his arm. Never before had he seen someone that stared at him with such piety, conviction, and determination as that Claymore, it was truly an inspiration to him and it was at that moment he made the conscious choice to believe that they are equal to humans. It was a firm belief he would hold onto strongly. He stares back up at Raki, blowing out the candles.
"Raki, I trust the Claymore's vigilant efforts to-"
*CLASH*
The frail wooden walls that keep the cottage upright would burst open, Godfrey taking the brunt of the damage from the collision; his back bleeding from the pieces of rubble stabbing into him. Raki slammed into the other side of the wall, stunning him as his right arm and leg are broken from the impact leaving him severely crippled with a piece of wood stabbed into his side. Both coughs violently as smoke fills the cottage area, losing their breath from the impacts they received. They painfully look to see what had caused such destruction only to be frozen in their state of perpetual fear.
Glowing eyes shone through the smoke that began to clear, foam coming out of the mouth of the hideous creatures. Their bloodlust was to be sated by human entrails. They weren't bothered as the alarm rang in the Village and the group of Guards rushed to see the commotion. They were confident enough to eat their guts and run off at a rapid pace.
Raki, feeling the effects of fear uses his weaker arm to grab a dagger from the table and with a panicked scream lunges at one of the Yoma, the effects of adrenaline pumping in his veins as he comes through the smoke, lucky enough to stab it into the stronger Yoma's eye as it was surprised to get attacked from the smoke. The creature roared, echoing throughout the village as it punched Raki back into the cottage, the wall cracking as all of his ribs were broken his dagger being left on the ground.
Is this how I'm going to die?
Raki closes his eyes, tears spilling as he felt death in its terrifying presence.
As the humanoid creatures approach the small family with claws that are extended and fangs that are prepared to tear asunder until a loud battle cry is heard in the distance, halting their movements at the sheer volume and scale. They looked up when it was too late...
*BOOM*
A resounding noise would be made as the Claymore slices deep into one of the Yoma with sheer Strength and power. Its death was instantaneous as the unfortunate victim of the strike was sliced from head to toe like a knife through hot butter from the force, the bones of the creature could not resist the strike from tearing apart. Bright yellow eyes can be seen under the helmet the warriors wears through the spray of purple blood, the shockwave was enough to send what remained of the broken cottage down with only a few walls remaining upright.
Another Yoma takes notice of this when the surprise factor wears off from the ambush, its legs propel itself forward, taking the opportunity to close the short distance the two rivals have between one another and teeth at the ready. With Talic's sword still struck on the ground, he uses what little time he has before the frenzied monster follows through with the attack as his left-hand catches the animalistic humanoid by the throat, halting it in its progress and keeping it firm as his right followed suit.
His armor was pummeled with the continuous attack made by the frantic Yoma, slashing and bashing blindly to release him from choking the Yoma as both hands were on its neck, its body lifted above the ground. It proved to be futile as the armor simply bounced off the unfocused strikes and a sharp twist on the creature's neck that resulted in a sickening snap made it easier to tear it apart completely. He made great use of his strength at that moment. Blood gushed from the vicious wound the Yoma suffered as he threw the corpse onto the ground, head and body. The front part of his set of armor was covered in the creatures purple blood after the violent confrontation. The threat was neutralized.
Talic's eyes scanned around the cottage before they were set on the two bodies that lay on the floor, both familiar to him as he came to the terrible truth that they were Raki and Godfrey. They groaned in pain as their own blood surrounded them on the floor and walls, and he knew he needed to take immediate action. Sheathing the sword he quickly extended his hands, he could hear the sounds of Guards approaching the cottage at a great pace but ignored their advances, they should see the two Yomas dead on the ground.
Father and son were unconscious and on the verge of death and it was in that moment when the Guards approached the destroyed terrain and saw the Claymore that they would see something otherworldly...
A soft chant would come from Talic's lips, hands raised in the air as they begin to glow with radiant power, pressing into the body of the priest as the wounds begin to regenerate slowly but surely, bones adjusted into the right places and the bleeding stops when the flesh was sealed up on its own. The guards who are witness to this are in amazement at the spectacle that this is seeing. Is this a man of a divine being? A saint? A Man of the Gods?
With the tissues back into fruition on the priest, the Claymore rises up. The Guardsman notices a difference however, he looks more weakened than before and approached the child in a haggard state. His hands were once again raised and a divine glow radiates from the palms, creating warmth as he fixes the bones in place. In the aftermath of this miracle is the Claymore against the wall, helmet off as he appears to be sweating and breathing heavily but still keeping even breathing in between.
One of the braver guards approached the fighter, kneeling down in front of him as he took out a flask of water in an effort to offer it to the Claymore.
"No... Just get those two to safety."
The Guards nodded as they heeded his words, picking up the bodies to place in one of the neighbors' homes. All of the guards walk away as they converse on what sort of Claymore he must be to do such an act. One of them, the brave guard turned around to look at the armored man's condition. His head was leaned forward, the mail coif dropping to the back of his neck. He would also appear to be in a state of death to the Guard with the way he stumbled around previously and how he is positioned against the wall.
"Lads, do you think the Claymore is dead?"
"Nay, he must be a tough bastard to put down. Leave him be, Kice." A burly man grumbled, his hairy arms crossed on his chest as he and the rest of the Guardsman stared at the formidable body of the Claymore. The guardsman, however, wanted to check to the bemusement of the group. He approaches the blood-soaked man and with great hesitation touched his neck to check for a pulse.
There is a pulse.
Kice rose to his feet, looking back towards the guards before he made a suggestion.
"Could I guard him until he wakes, Captain? Gods know what happens if he wakes and finds his possession stolen…"
One of the Guards looked up from sharpening the tip of an arrow while sitting cross-legged as he pointed the edge at the unconscious claymore with it.
"Why not slit his throat and be done with it? His equipment must be worth many coins."
A snarl escapes from Kice, facing the cutthroat.
"He healed the priest and saved us the rest of us from the Yoma and that is our thanks? Have a sense of honor, Yorick!"
Yorick simply returns to picking his teeth with the dagger, his eyes focused on Kice. They were on opposite sides of what they believe. The captain interrupted the heated confrontation.
"Whatever it may be I don't want the organization to fuck us in the arse after losing one their own." Although he is limited on his knowledge of the organization he would assume they would not appreciate a Claymore's throat being slit by humans of all people they were meant to protect. Similar to killing a pet of a powerful Lord. "Kice will guard him. I'm not taking risks."
Kice bowed his head in reverence.
"I accept the task, Captain."
The captain nods in approval before making a gesture for the fallen Yoma.
"Good, let's be off and clean up the bodies..."
Pure darkness surrounds Talic, his form is small as he is huddled in the corner in an icy environment; forced to endure the cold. Next to him are other children of similar age, all suffering the same fate. Their naked bodies shook, the ground that their feet touched was metallic touched with frost; forcing them to keep balance before they slip down the slope and into the hole that would be their cause of death. There is nothing but fear as they are alone in the Abyss, huddled together with clattered teeth.
It's all part of the Organization's training.
"D-damn it…" grunted one of the bigger children in the group, Rauf. "This is getting to me hard!"
Next to Rauf were two other children. Talic and Isley remain the most composed in this state; both have their own ways of calming themselves while at the farther end of the group was Rigardo, whos pride kept him from failing to remain in solitude.
"Then put your mind elsewhere, Rauf." Isley responded, annoyed that his meditative state was interrupted by the brash complaints coming from him. "Words are useless at this time. Silence is key."
Talic head remains bowed in silent prayer, his legs struggling to keep itself still in the harsh terrain. His arms were crossed to try to offer himself any resemblance of warmth but to no measure. He did feel something deep within him rise inside…
"Rabona grant me the strength to persevere…"
It started when he felt his legs were embraced in warmth, similar to a hearth is in a cabin, giving it relief from the cold. He continued to travel up his body.
"The blood that is spilled shall be in your name…"
More of this strange power was beginning to grow, now focused on one of his hands that were outstretched and shaking in the environment. The warmth is concentrated at the center of the palm. Isley took notice of the illumination made on Talic's palm, his eyes widening at the spectacle as it grew brighter over time.
"This I swear under your wings…"
A sudden bright light in the shape of a sphere would rotate around his hand, a sort of vortex begins to encircle around the center where the ball of light is held in his palm. It begins to fly up, revealing all of the huddled together children with their scars on their torsos from the result of the surgery to turn each of them into half yoma and able to see a small part of their surroundings as they were previously thrown in here blindly to try and survive in the darkness. All of the boys including Talic looked up with mesmerization in their looks, fixated with this magical power that came from his hand. Moments would pass in silence as they could feel the warmth touching them until one boy, in particular, spoke up, one with dark Azure hair which was matted the same as the other who was anxious to get this over with, patience thinning.
"W-what the hell did you do, Talic?!"
The child in response could only look at the right palm that was still glowing, feeling weaker the more he focused on concentrating this power, his eyelids beginning to soften as it closes in a slow draw, with bigger intakes of breath as sweat pours from his body.
"I-I don't know, Rigardo…"
Before his body falls into a state of unconsciousness he could feel a sharp sting on his arm, fastening the process as he sees the boys alongside him falling as well. The last thing he sees is the illuminating light source fizzling out of existence and being holstered on the shoulder after feeling the sloped platform move on its own accord.
He would wake up after moments of being in complete darkness, his eyes adjusting to the light that came from a set of torches that faced each other in the room. The room itself was blank, there were no garnishes to be seen nor were there any basic essentials that were evident as he laid on the stone floor. The only thing that caught his interest from the corner he was leaning upon was a man in the center of the sitting on a chair with a table in the front, his face hidden as it was looking down at the table, Patient. He was aged as he looked on his hands but was well built underneath his black coat which holds a gold collar with blonde hair that is swept back only in the middle, leaving the sides bald. Alongside him was a man whose appearance startled him from under the frail man's hood with half of his face missing his skin, leaving only flesh and exposed teeth on the man's left side which holds a bulging eyeball that stares at his woken form with great interest. Talic's eyes widened as he became familiar with the names of the two highly ranked individuals, being taught to remember them and address them appropriately by rank and name.
Arch-Scholar Dae and Elder Rimuto...
As Talic got up from his position he heard a voice that was hoarse but contained almost an unconcealed excitement underneath, the hooded man raising his hand upward towards the empty chair.
"Take a seat in front of the Elder, trainee."
He does so without hesitation, being taught to follow the orders of his superiors with great haste, especially when an Elder is present in the room, Talic. His still naked form sits on the chair that felt smooth to the touch, awaiting further instructions as he sits perfectly straight and facing the aged man in front of him. As the mans face reveals itself when he glances up to the recruit Talic breathes in slowly, the first time he is able to see the Elder face to face.
The Elder himself held wrinkles on his face, most on his forehead and corners of his mouth with dark gray eyes that are unflinching and cold, a startling smile was also shown. He finally speaks after moments of silence his voice being gravelly and gruff, observing Talic's right hand.
"This power, trainee... How did this come about?"
The room would be left with the absence of sound as no response comes from the trainee, not knowing how he would be able to answer this question about what occurred during training, he glimpses at his hand, deep in thought.
"Answer him, Trainee. Disobedience is a punishable offense in the Organization."
Talic finally gives out his feedback, eyes shifting from his hand to peer back to the Elder.
"It felt as if...There was a sudden warmth that climbed my body that reached my hand, Elder Rimuto."
The head of research had a large book in his hand that contained the various journals he wrote down, his quill wrote what he heard from the Trainee, anxious for new knowledge.
"So this energy is concentrated on your hand? Most interesting..."
"Yes, that's when I was able to make the light, Elder Rimuto."
"Attempt to use this power again," he leans back in his chair, his index finger tapping the wooden table in a slow rhythm. "The Arch-Scholar and I want to see this on closer inspection. "
Talic's hand begins to clench as he focuses on recreating the scenario, focused on gathering this strange energy before he feels the familiar glow inside him, reaching to his hand as he concentrates harder, keeping the glow aligned with his hand. Both of his superiors were leaning forward, curious at what would transpire from this potential of power. The Arch Scholar of the Organization was quick to write in his notes at a rushed pace, attempting to capture every detail of the phenomenon.
Suddenly, with a great amount of concentration, a ball of light, bigger than it was before it sprung forth from his hand, the dimly lit room was suddenly engulfed in a luminous aura. The sound of a book dropping followed by a quill is heard as the Arch-Scholar covers his eyes to protect himself from the light as a shout of pain escapes him from the unfamiliar brightness, Rimuto was less bothered, squinting as he pays close attention to the way it moves and thrives in the air, its soft ringing noise echoing.
By the time the light disappeared Talic was on the ground, knelt by the table with the chair knocked down behind him, his breaths were frantic and in a state of perspiration. Elder Rimuto turns to the Arch Scholar who was recovering from the harsh glare of the light, a direct command being given.
"Get him treated, he will be scheduled to train this ability between his Yoma Hunts. I will not have this potential squandered." He gets up from his chair, walking to the doorway that leads to one of the many hallwalls of the Organizations quarters before turning back to the exhausted Talic. Meeting his stare with his own. "You have been granted a gift, Trainee. Try as we might it could not be found in your Yoma flesh..."
It dawned outside and Kice still upheld his duty as a guardsman, watching over the body of the unconscious Claymore. He was touching the pieces of armor that the warrior wore, admiring its craftsmanship. It felt smooth to the touch even with the scars embedded in the armor, his hand reaching up to the back of the neck to feel the mail coif in its silvery glow. He attempted to take a small piece of the chain to keep it as a token but his efforts were futile, hammering it down against the wall barely denting it and trying to piece it apart with the end of his dagger resulting in dulling the blade. He sighed in exasperation, leaning back on the chair he set up to make watching over him tolerable, feeling the effects of fatigue close in on him from hours of observation. He turns to his right when he hears steps approaching him, standing up with his hand laid on the handle of his longsword, ready to release the weapon.
A boy who looked to be in his teens approached, climbing down from the pile of rubble that came from the confrontation with the two Yomas, their bodies gone after the recent cleanup. The same young man who was touched by the glowing entity is full of health and renewed from recovery. His grip on the handle softened, realizing it was only the priest's son, Raki.
"Raki, I pray that you have recovered well?"
Raki looked back down at his body, the realization of recovering from such vicious wounds still shocked him as much as anyone in the village. Rumors were spread across the village after the Guards revealed what they had seen while in the tavern off duty, many were skeptical to know if this was true only to see the collapse of the cottage where they knew the priest and his son lived that also happen to be alive after an attack at that scale. It made the story seem more believable but trusting a drunkard guards tale was far fetched. Nonetheless, there was an assortment of items laid around the Claymore that were brought by a few serfs who wished to show their gratitude with a prayer of Teresa and Clare being left from their lips before departing.
Raki nearly tripped over a jug of wine that the innkeeper from the Tavern set down before regaining his composure, looking up at the Claymore with worry before his sights turned to the guard that stayed beside him.
"I feel as good as new. Is Talic alright?"
Kice's eyebrow raises at the mention of that name, head turning back to the Claymore. He looked better than he was before in the middle of the night, the sweat that poured from him was gone and he looked to be in a peaceful state of sleeping, his hair that reached the tip of his ears covering his eyes as his head was facing his chest.
"Talic looks better than he was before." The name rolled off of his tongue easily. "He's no longer sweating."
Raki simply nodding before sitting down next to the guardsman, his hands crossed in prayer, asking that the brave hero wakes from his slumber. Moments would pass by in silence at the destroyed cottage, the sounds of people outside fulfilling their daily commerce to return things back to normal after the recent attack on the village, as they were still on edge.
"I saw what you did to that creature, stabbing it in the eye." Kice glanced at Raki, whos eyes widen. "It was brave of you, standing up and fighting the same Yoma that killed my sister. You have my respect."
Kice unholsters the sheath from his belt, holding it out for Raki to take.
"Accept this gift, I held this sword for many years and you deserve to take the mantle."
Raki nods gratefully, grabbing hold of the sword awkwardly as he examines it.
Another set of footsteps catches their attention as a shadowy figure emerges from the shade to reveal the symbol of Teresa and Clare in his robe, the damage done on it repaired and clean.
"Father!" Raki ran to embrace Godfrey, the gesture following back up the same to him. "You are well!"
"It was a miracle what he did..." Godfrey's voice was distant, his mind in deep thought at what had happened when those hands were glowing with such divinity and the warmth that came from it, pulling him from the clutches of the cold and inevitable that he was prepared to face. "I am glad you are alive, my son."
The touching moment would last under the orange hue of the late evening before a grunt that came from a different voice was made in the cottage, startling Kice. Everyone turns to see Talic shaking his head, hand unconsciously moving to his amulet to ensure its there before opening his eyes to reveal its Silver orbs as he looks around in an analytical approach, familiarizing himself with the situation.
"Talic! Are you ok?" Raki rushes to the side of the Claymore, his hand touching his pauldron.
Talic simply nods his head, picking up his helmet that laid beside him, the greatsword properly adjusting to its position after being balanced at an awkward angle from leaning against the wall as he stands up. When he felt something knock on the ground, he looks to see a jug of wine from the tavern before next to him sealed with a clean cloth that kept the contents from spilling out, its white color matching his armor. There were also flowers and other trinkets that laid around him.
"A few folks left the items here as a symbol of thanks, they felt they owed you something while you were vulnerable here." Kice pitched in, he picked up the jug of wine that was left on its side before holding it to the Claymore. "I heard you liked wine, is that true?"
"Aye, I do." Talic grasps the Jug, his grip strong as he lifts the cloth and drank the wine after his investigative sniff. "You people have my gratitude, but I must be off to be ready for my next hunt. The Organization could see me missing in action stalling like this." He gives the jug back to Kice, heading outside after his coif and helmet were on, the visor lifted. "May Rabona protect you under her wings."
"Wait!"
Talic turns around to see Raki with the most determined gaze he had seen him, a fire that yearns to be unleashed. His form was confident, standing straight as he stares unflinchingly. He was taken back by the demeanor the boy extrudes from himself.
"I want to travel alongside you, to fight the Yoma so that no more people have to suffer what Father and I did!"
It was quiet in the cottage after Raki's declaration, Talic's eyes narrow as he meets the boys glare. Godfrey became solemn after the statement was made, still as the shrine that laid at the front of the cottage. Kice looked at Raki as if he just grew two heads.
This boy has a spirit.
"You hold great ambition within you but the path that I travel is dangerous, the creatures I fight are beyond human and you will need to rise above the capabilities of what you are able to do underneath my tutelage. Are you certain in your decision, Raki?"
"Yes." A stiff nod
"I know I cannot stop you from following me no matter how much I will reject. But..." He points at Godfrey who was silent as a statue. "I will never forgive you if your father does not approve of you to travel alongside me."
Raki turns to see his father, witnessing his reaction to what he has said gave him a great shame for his selfishness. Godfrey's breath was calm, his eyes opening to meet with Raki's that were pleading with him to follow his desire to be the Hero who saves people from the Yoma threat. Talic patiently awaited for a response from the priest.
"Although I will miss him I cannot abstain from where he chooses to go in his life." He approaches Raki, leaning his forehead against his as he gives a silent prayer for his beloved son, releasing him afterward as he faces Talic. "Before you press on, however, I wish to start a ritual for you, to become one of the chosen of Goddess Teresa and Clare so that the future fights you hold are guided by their presence."
"I worship the goddess Rabona, I do not want to slight her."
"There is no need to worry, this ritual is not to become a disciple of the Goddess, it is an honorary blessing that shows that they recognize your efforts."
"Very well, I shall accept this benediction with no trouble. Where shall it be done?"
Talic stands in front of the untarnished shrine of Teresa and Clare, the altar containing water that the priest needed to commence the ritual. The priest begins by dropping his hands in the water while preaching the sermon as Talic knelt to the ground, his eyes facing the ground that the ground split on the earth, showing the effects of the fight with the Yoma.
Oh, great sisters of the Heavens!
Let this man that I bestow your blessings unto
Prosper within this life on earth and the heavens
If the man be a merchant his wealth shall be humble
If the man be a serf his hard work yield fair returns
If the man be a warrior the burdens of sorrow will be at ease
If the man be a noble his accomplishments be great
I, Father Godfrey grant this fair man your aid
After the words were finished the water Godfrey scoops drops on the Claymores head, afterward, he would stand up from his kneeling position, closing both eyes as instructed as a kiss from the priest is placed on both cheeks. While unfamiliar with the sensation he remained still so that the ritual is completed. When he is allowed to open his eyes he sees the priest reached into his robe, pulling out a figurine of the twin goddesses that are made out of pure silver, an engraving is set on both wings.
"I never thought I would grant this to a Claymore of all people." His fingers traced the engraving on the miniature statue before holding it out for Talic to receive. "This object is proof of the blessing you received from me, only the high ranking members which I used to hold possession of this."
Kice is in awe at the sight of a half Yoma receiving such a holy item and this new found knowledge from Godfrey, he approached the priest as Talic took possession of the relic, placing it in his pouch before he called for Raki to gather what was left of his belongings. He whispers harshly.
"You were a high priest?! How are you here?"
Godfrey simply smiled at the guard. His response was simple.
"The woman I loved was humble, she cared not the luxury of the capital, her desire was to raise a family in the comfort of a cottage" He points at his son who already had his traveling kit ready, a large pack which was used for Godfrey's pilgrimage that contained enough rations to supply them for a long trip, it managed to come unscathed from the assault on the house. "I see most of her in Raki, I believe in him and Talic."
After proper preparations were made they said their farewells, Talic being the first to move outside of the village as Raki follows, his newly attained longsword dangling at his hip. Few villagers would wave their goodbyes at the duo as they pressed on, their figures disappearing the farther in the forest they go.
Although I pray for their perseverance I feel this is just the beginning...