Hello folks, here's my attempt at writing a Claymore fan fiction... Hope it works out :P
Disclaimer: I don't own Claymore, the makers of Claymore or any of the Claymores. Though Clarice doesn't look too bad... Or Helen... Hmm...
Please note that this is going to be based off of the manga more so than the anime, which excludes many scenes and a lot of gory battles due to it being only 24 episodes planned thus far. So, by including all the way up to Chapter 73 (which would probably be like... episode 50) this will be much more inclusive than if you were to watch the anime alone. If you'd like to read the manga online so you'll understand what the hell I'm talking about, please visit onemanga dot com and find Claymore under the manga section.
Plot: Clare never met Raki, instead, Clare finds a young man with a penchant for trouble and a Yoma Hunter, or so he says. Chaos ensues when she and the other Claymores find out that there is more to him than meets the eye. Rated for explicit violence, gore, etc
Wiess is pronnounced "Weece"
Number Zero
A dark forest reeked of the stench of death. Rivers of crimson liquid flowed through the underbrush in disgusting streams as they drizzled and pooled around bodies. One such body lay broken upon a large rock, the man's face submerged under a pool of his own blood as a figure stood atop it, tearing chunks of flesh and innards from his torso. Sounds of lip smacking and crunching could be heard as this montrous creature ate this dead man.
A drop of water was heared, and the creature turned around to reveal a horribly montrous face. It looked human at once, or maybe it never was, with reddish-brown skin that looked leathery to the touch and a wide, gaping maw filled with large pointed teeth. Its eyes were perhaps the most scary thing on its bald head, bright, sickly yellow with slitted pupils like a cat. Its body was large and powerful, with bulking muscles that flexed with every movement. The monster turned to see a figure standing in the distance between some trees. It stood up angrily as some pitiful human dared to disturb its meal. No matter, the human would just be desert then. The monster stood up and roared a primal bellow of bloodlust, and the figure in the distance reached over their back.
A huge sword was drawn. Emblazoned on the blade itself was a simple symbol, which looked like a t with the cross tips pointing up. The monster dashed towards its new victim.
Silver eyes looked calmly at their oppenent, before flashing yellow with slitted pupils. The monster was upon the figure now, and ripples in the blood pool signalled its attack.
A loud slicing noise was heard and the monster stopped dead in its tracks, as blood flew around it like some sort of sick ballet. The monster's head slid cleanly off its lower jaw and landed with a splash into the bloody puddle. The figure stood off in the distance, the huge claymore sword clutched loosely in her delicate hand wavering off the ground. Her work here was done.
-----
Somewhere, in a small village down South, a large crowd of people surrounded a body lying on the ground. Blood smears were everywhere, signifying a bloody struggle.
"This is the sixth one," someone muttered, as women cried and children were ushered away and to their homes.
"What'll we do at this rate?" another man asked angrily. "Damn it! The last one was just three days ago!"
"If we don't do something, we're finished!" a man with a moustache said tersely. "There's no doubt about it," he said to a young man. "There's a Yoma in this village."
Moments later, a mob entered the mayor's home and began protesting.
"They eat out your guts while you're still alive!" a frazzled woman cried in fear.
"If we just sit here and wait, we'll be butchered!" a farmer yelled, waving his pitchfork.
"What'll we do chief?" the young man from before shouted. "That's the sixth one! We've got to kill this thing!"
"Calm down Wiess," the mayor said heavily. The young man of his late teens sniffed and crossed his arms together. "Are you proposing that you go kill a Yoma?"
Silence was met all round. The man narrowed his eyes and slammed his fist on the mayor's desk. "If not me, then who?" Wiess said angrily. "I'm skilled enough!"
The mayor sighed. "Yes you are Wiess, in fact, I've not met a soldier more skilled than you, my dear bladesmith," he responded. "But these Yoma... They can kill you and take your form you know, how would you find one? Not to mention that they are wickedly fast, intelligent and powerful. Much more powerful than you, I'm afraid."
The mayor slid a folded piece of parchment on his desk. "We've recieved a reply to our letter," he said, sliding the parchment to Wiess. "It seems they're sending one to our village."
The old mayor looked much older at that moment. "A Claymore that is."
-----
Claymores. The term that humans have given these powerful, deadly beauties of the world. A Claymore is half-human, half-Yoma. However, they are servants of man, and use their incredible powers to kill and eradicate Yoma. One Claymore is more than enough to clear out an entire village of 10 Yoma. However, they are regarded with fear and suspicion, since they also carry the flesh and blood of the very creatures they kill. It seems that even these "Silver-Eyed Witches" can garner no favor from the very people they protect, no matter who many lives are saved, or even how beautiful each one is. They are monsters in a pretty form.
"She's here!"
"It's the Claymore!"
"The Silver-Eyed Witch!"
Wiess looked up from his father's forge. His family had been famous bladesmiths for over 200 years, creating works of art for the soldiers of the continent (this world had only one large continent, with very few small islands surrounding it) and they had great respect for their work. Wiess was currently the owner of the forge, since his father had been killed by a Yoma several years back. He, in turn, had killed the Yoma while it fed on his father and had earned the title, "Yoma Hunter" from the mayor, and he was looked up to from many.
"Claymore, huh?" he said quietly, eyeing the sword that lay before him. It was his father, Vice's masterpiece before he had died, and Wiess had finished it. Vice had seen a Claymore in combat once, though this one seemed to have lost its massive sword of which it was named after. Instead, she was using what appeared to be single-edged daggers, that curved slightly and looked beautiful. Vice had decided to create a larger version for himself, and had forged the blade using his finest steel, with iron as its core as the steel was hammered and folded around the softer core. When he was finished, the sword was beautiful. It had a very long tang - almost 17 inches - to make up for its 40 inch blade that curved ever-so-slightly to the tip. The blade's edge was razor sharp, and could cut through anything with ease.
SInce Vice had died before he could fit the sword, Wiess had done it himself. He had cut some very exquisite beigewood (they don't really have tree names XD) down and had fashioned a sleek wooden handle, which he shaped and lovingly sanded himself. It covered the tang's entire length. (AN: this sword is basically a larger, kickass version of one of Legalos' fighting knives. End description)
Making up his mind, Wiess strapped the sword's harness to his shoulders and chest, making sure the belts were tight but comfortable. He then grabbed the sword and with practiced ease, slid it into the leather sheath that now rested on his back. He walked outside to see the commotion about the Claymore.
There she was, standing in the distance, surrounded by townsfolk. She wore a silver outfit, of course, and had light armor in the form of shoulder plates, waist plates and knee-high boots. A long sword handle could be seen poking from her back beside her head. Despite the fact that she had a terribly scary look on her face, she was very beautiful. She had shoulder length hair with a fringe on her forehead that reached down to her eyebrows. She had almond shaped eyes, with the famous silver orbs Wiess had heard so much about. Her expression was cold. Beautiful, but cold.
The townsfolk began murmuring as the Claymore walked past them, and right up to Wiess. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, including his sword, but she just walked past him without a care in the world.
Wiess, for his part, was extremely intrigued by the silent woman. He saw her walk into the mayor's home, no doubt to talk about the situation. He decided to hang around until she came out. Absentmindedly, he noticed all the townsfolk dissapear into their homes. It seemed as if the Claymore scared the people more than the Yoma. Hell, the Yoma would leave dead bodies lying around yet the townsfolk would walk around anyways. These people needed to get their priorities straightened...
The mayor's door opened and Wiess saw the Claymore step out. He grinned and ran up behind her. She suddenly whirled around in a flash, drawing her sword in one fluid motion as she swung it towards him. Wiess reacted on instinct and drew his own sword, ready to meet her blade's edge.
He waited for the loud clang of steel on steel, but it never came. Looking to the swords, he noticed that the Claymore stopped her blade a hair's width from his own. He raised an eyebrow.
"Paranoid much?" he asked.
Swish! Shhhhhing! She sheathed her mighty sword over her shoulder and gave him a cold look before turning away. Wiess raised an eyebrow.
-----
For a moment there, I thought I felt something from that man, Clare thought to herself as she clank clanked away in her steel boots. A very miniscule amount of Yoki. But he couldn't possibly be a Yoma. No, no way. She turned her head slightly.
"Hey, wait up!" the young man said, jogging up to her side. "You're a Claymore, aren't you?"
"No," she answered tonelessly.
"That's what people call you then, huh?" he asked.
"That's right. Our organization has no name. That's the name your people thrust upon us," she said.
"I see, I see," the young man said. He gave her a queer look. "I somehow thought you'd be scarier, but you look pretty normal to me."
Clare was surprised, though she didn't show it. "You're not afraid of me?" she asked curiously, despite herself.
The man laughed. "Of course not!" he said. "You're a defender of humans! Besides, you're really easy on the eyes."
Clare glared at him and started to walk away again. He caught up to her easily.
"Whoa, I didn't mean to offend you, most girls would have liked a compliment," he said cheerfully, matching her stride for stride. They came to an archway. "Hey, that's leads out of the village."
She looked around. "This is the end of the village?" she asked, filing it away in her memory.
"Yes ma'am," the man said.
Thunk! Plop!
In smooth fashion, Clare impaled her sword into the dirt ground and sat down using it as a backrest. She crossed her arms and closed her eyes. She could feel the man's eyes on her body.
"Rest time," she stated, answering his unasked question. "I've been walking for three days."
She heard the sounds of someone sitting down and cracked an eye open. The man was sitting next to her - but not too close - although his sword remained on his back. It appeared to have rotated so it wouldn't stick into the ground. She looked at him.
"Why are you so interested in me?" she asked.
The man shrugged. "I've never seen a Claymore fight a Yoma before," he said. "It was hard for me, is it easy for you?"
Clare raised a delicately arched eyebrow. "You, killed a Yoma?" she asked.
The man nodded. "Seven years ago, my father - he was a bladesmith - was killed by a Yoma. I was apprenticed under my father of course, and killed it using the skills I learned from practicing with swords. I'm this town's bladesmith now."
Clare was mildly amazed. Judging by this man's appearance that meant he had to have dispatched of a fully grown and freshly fed Yoma when he less than 10 years old. "Impressive," was all she said. "However the abilities of one of us is far greater than a human's. Comparing the two is quite drastic."
"I know that," the man said with a chuckle. He held out his hand. "I'm Wiess."
She stared at his offered hand. He slowly drew it back. "Riiiiight," he said awkwardly. "Not that friendly. Well, what's your name?"
The town bell started to gong, signalling curfew.
"You don't need to know my name," she said, turning away from him. "You'll forget it soon enough."
"Like you'll forget mine?"
She turned around to see the man, Wiess looking at her with something akin to pity on his face. "You must be very lonely," was all he said before walking away, his unique sword swaying on his back.
Clare stayed there, rooted to the spot as the bell tower gonged over and over again.
