Dis Lexics vault of Secrets
Ideas, plot bunnys that won't let go, possible future stories. feel free to pick up the stories if you like them.
Hi everyone and welcome back to my Vault! This time, the story isn't Harry Potter related, but something else entirely. Its a Crossover of Claymore and The Elder Scrolls where the Dragonborn finds himself on the conternet Claymore takes place on. He had taken down Miraak, Harkon and Alduin and possesses all of the Shouts, in addition to being a Vampire Lord, so he may be a little OP. That does not mean he can take on all three Abyssal Ones and Priscilla and win. His power level is roughly the same as Galatea without Vamping, after which he could take on a former Number 3 Awakened Being. That is without his Shouts and magic which he tends to keep in reserve. Anyway, enough nattering, on with the show!
Dragon and Yoma
"How horrible."
"This is the fifth victim this week."
"What do we do?"
The cloaked stranger approached the small gathering of villages, his nostrils flaring at the scent of spilt blood. He gently pushed his way to the front and looked at the mess that filled the alleyway. The walls were painted red with splattered blood and in the middle of the mess was the corpse of a young man with his stomach split open, the contents missing, eaten if the tooth marks that marred parts of his skin was any indication. The mans lip curled at the sight, revealing pure white teeth that appeared to be slightly elongated and unnaturally pointed.
"Such a waist."
The man's statement drew the villages attention to him.
"What do you mean stranger?" asked one of the men in the village.
The cloaked stranger ignored the question in favor of reaching into his cloak and drawing a short sword made of a strange, grey metal with a guardless, black hilt.
"Lets see, one, two, three, four, five. Five targets."
"What are you mumbling about?" asked a big, muscled man, clapping a hand on the strangers shoulder.
"Theres one."
The stranger grabbed the man's wrist and flung him over his shoulder into the ground with enough force to crack it, before driving the short blade into his heart, killing him instantly. The crowd immediately scattered, screaming as the man straightened, blood dripping from his sword. He smirked beneath his hood before he vanished.
"Thats two."
A woman was sent flying with her throat slashed.
"Damn you!"
Two young men from the crowd surged forwards towards where the cloaked stranger stood, there forms distorting and expanding into grey skinned monsters as they did, eliciting more screams.
"YOU'RE DEAD YOU BASTARD!" yelled one of the Yoma as he slashed at the man, only to blink in confusion as the shredded remains of the man's cloak fluttered to the ground.
"Hehe, you'll have to be faster than that to catch me!"
The Yoma looked behind him to see the stranger stood over the corpse of his final companion, a wide grin on his face.
The stranger was clad in skintight, black and red leather armour with a hood that hid the top half of his face in shadow, but allowed his wide grin to be seen. What could be seen of his skin was pale, almost unhealthily so, although he was clearly far from frail if the speed and strength he displayed was anything to go by. Attached to his back was a pair of sheaths, one empty as he held its occupant in his hand, while the other held an unusual, leaf shaped sword with a tarnished gold hilt.
"Thats three," said the man mockingly.
The Yoma snarled, grinding his teeth together, before he charged the man again.
"A straight charge?" asked the man, "How predictable."
The Yoma went to stab the young man, only for him to duck under the monsters arm and executed a rising slash that removed his arm in a spray of gore, before spinning and sweeping the grey skinned monsters legs from under it, sending it crashing to the ground with his sword hovering an inch above its heart.
"No, please," whimpered the creature.
All it got was a fang filled grin before the razor sharp blade found its heart.
"Ah, look at the bodies!"
The voice from the silent crowd drew their attention to the others the stranger had killed, revealing that they had all been Yoma.
"Hmm, I smelt five of them," said the stranger, spinning his sword idly, "Lets see, one, two, three, four. Hmm, I missed one."
His gaze zeroed into a woman standing at the edge of the crowd with her arms around a young girl with brown hair.
"Gottcha."
The woman, knowing the game was up, transformed and placed a clawed hand at the girls throat. The girl let out a choking gasp as she found herself being lifted into the air by what she thought was her mother.
"Stop right there," the Yoma growled, "This girl is the last of her family after we killed them and took their place. You wouldn't want her to die would you?"
The man simply stood there, his grin fading from his lips.
"Alright, now drop your sword and let me go," said the Yoma.
The man remained still, before his form flickered like a mirage and vanished, even as he appeared behind the Yoma.
"Taking a child hostage?" he growled into the monster's ear, "I'm truly ashamed to call your kind kin."
The Yomas eyes widened slightly, before she attempted to slice the girls throat in a final act of defiance, only to find her head flying through the air before she could so much as twitch.
The stranger grabbed the Yomas body and threw her away so she wouldn't fall on the girl who fell to the ground without anything to hold her up, sobbing in terror. The man knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms with the air of one who knew exactly how to calm a crying child. The girl immediately latched onto him and started crying into his armour as he gently rubbed her back.
As the stranger was comforting the girl, the crowd slowly began to disperse and the Village Chief hesitantly approached the hooded swordsman. The stranger noticed his approach and placed a finger to his lips, indicating to the girl who had cried herself to sleep. He got to his feet, easily shifting the girl in his arms, before becoming the chief to follow. He headed into the only inn in town and laid the girl down on the bed in the room he had rented shortly before killing the Yoma and shutting the door.
"Alright, what do you need?" he asked the Chief who was wringing his hands.
"Thank you!" he blurted, "You have no idea how much we appreciate you killing the Yoma for us! Tell us how we can repay you!"
The stranger looked embarrassed and rubbed the back of his head.
"It was nothing," he said, "I don't need any repayment."
"Please, you have to let us do something for you?"
The man let out an exasperated sigh and muttered something under his breath.
"Alright, how about a room for a few days and new cloak since mine was shredded?" he asked.
"Of course," said the Chief, "Might I know your name?"
The stranger, who had been entering his room, glanced back at the Chief.
"Omarus. Omarus Nightsky."
He shut the door.
Omarus sighed as he slumped down on one of the chairs in his room, tugging down his hood to reveal a sharp but handsome face, shoulder length, platinum blond hair and pointed ears. His eyes were orange and seemed to glow lightly in the evening light that leaked through the windows. The Elf rested his chin on clasped hands and looked over at the bed where the girl he had saved was sleeping.
She reminded him so much Sofie and Lucia, the two girls he had adopted during his time in Skyrim and, for a short time, had been the lights in his dark life, along with his wife, Lydia. Until the Thalmor had burnt his homestead and strung up there bloody corpses for the crows to feast on. He had retaliated by completely obliterating their presence in Skyrim, before travelling to the Summerset Isles and slaughtering their ruling council in there locked chambers and leaving incriminating evidence pointing at each other. The Thalmor had torn themselves apart with infighting, making them easy pickings for the Imperial armies after a few subtle pushes to the new Emperor.
Omarus' hands tightened as blood red tears began to fall at the thought of his family. Even if it had been nearly a century since they had been murdered, the memory of returning home to smouldering ruins and his family hanging from trees was still fresh in his mind, such was the curse of Immortality.
A sharp gasp from the bed drew Omarus' attention to the bed and the now awake girl who was looking around frantically. The Vampire quickly scrubbed his bloody tears from his face and moved to the bedside as the girls eyes fell on him.
"M-mummy?" she asked in a small voice.
Omarus shook his head and the girl looked down at her lap, her eyes filling with tears again. The elf clambered onto the bed and wrapped an arm around the girl, rubbing her back as she cried her sorrow away. Eventually, the girl stopped crying, although a few choked sobs still escaped her.
"What's your name little one?" asked Omarus lowly.
"M-miria," sniffed the girl, scrubbing at her eyes.
"Nice to meet you Miria, my name is Omarus," said the Elf.
"What happened to my mummy?" asked the girl, looking up at the elf with tear filled, brown eyes.
"She was killed by a monster," said Omarus gently. No point in trying to hide it at this point.
Miria sniffed and burrowed further into his chest, seeking comfort in his arms.
A few days later saw Omarus stood at the village gates with a full pack over his shoulder and wearing a new cloak. Standing with him to see him off was the Chief and Miria who had become very attached to the blond Elf in the short time he had been in the village.
"Why can't I go with you?" asked Miria for the fifth time.
Omarus sighed but answered.
"Because my travels are dangerous and I can't guarantee your safety," said the vampire, "I couldn't forgive myself if something were to happen to you."
Miria sniffed, but nodded. Omarus sighed and knelt in front of the girl, tilting her head up with a finger.
"Hey, don't cry," he said, "I'll come and visit. Here…"
He reached into his cloak and pulled out an amulet on a piece of twine. The amulet was made of a purple metal and resembled a bird in flight and had a small, blue gem in the middle of the birds body.
"This is an Amulet of Kynareth, one of the gods of my homeland," said Omarus, "She protects travellers and brings good fortune. It will protect you."
He looped the twine over Mirias head and allowed the amulet to rest in the centre of her chest, before rubbing her head with a smile. Omarus straightened and turned to the Chief.
"Take care of her, OK?" he said, "Don't worry, shes completely human."
The Chief nodded and clasped Omarus' proffered arm.
"I will, come back soon."
Omarus nodded and hefted his pack onto his shoulder. With one last pat to the head of Miria, the wanderer headed off down the path and away from the town.
When he was a mile from the town, Omarus stopped in place and dropped his pack to the ground.
"Come on out."
From behind one of the trees that lined the road stepped a woman with braided, platinum blond hair, silver eyes and a slight smirk. She was dressed in a skin tight white uniform with armoured pauldrons, skirt, gloves and boots. Held lightly in her right hand was a huge claymore.
"So, you can sense me?" said the Warrior as she stepped onto the path .
"Smell you," corrected Omarus, "You and your kind reek of blood. You're also not as quiet as you'd like to believe."
The womans face twitched slightly, but she remained calm.
"So what can I do for you Claymore?"
"I was intrigued to meet the human who could take down five Yoma alone," said the Claymore, "But now I'm closer I have to wonder if you truly are human. You don't feel like a Yoma or Awakened One, but you do have a Yoki aura."
Omarus narrowed his eyes, his hands shifting to the hilts of his swords hidden underneath his cloak.
"So, what are you gonna do?" he asked, "You said it yourself, I'm not a Yoma."
"True, but you're also not human," said the Warrior, "And that means you are a threat and I cannot allow a threat to walk these lands."
The Warrior charged, her sword held out to the side. Omarus snarled, drawing his lips from his fangs as he shed his cloak and drew his swords, Knightingale and Chillrend from their sheaths, crossing them in the air before him to catch the Warriors blade. However, his eyes widened in shock as the woman seemed to phase threw his body, leaving a deep cut in his shoulder in her wake. Omarus spun to face the woman, his face weary as his hand went to the cut shoulder, the arm hanging limply.
"Oh, looks like I missed," said the woman, "I was aiming to take your head off."
Omarus narrowed his eyes, removing his arm from his shoulder as he felt the injury close up rapidly.
"How interesting, you move so quickly it appears that you passed through me," said the vampire, flexing his arm a few times to make sure it had healed correctly, "I have a similar technique, but it is nowhere near as refined as yours. Might I know your name?"
"I don't see why you need to know it, but I am Elegant Hysteria, the current Number One of the Organization," said the Warrior as she flicked the blood from her blade.
She spun her blade and charged, once more using her Elegance, only for her blade to phase through the Vampire like a mirage as he reappeared behind her and dealt a cut to her back with Knightingale.
"Well then, I am known as Omarus the Phantom Swordsman, First Nightingale of Lady Nocturnal," said Omarus, as Hysteria spun to face him, her own face contorted in shock that someone had dodged her Elegance, "Now, lets see who is faster."
END! This is likely going to be one I do more work on as I love both series and think I could do something quite cool with them. For those in the know, yes that little girl is indeed Phantom Miria. As always feel free to pick this up and leave me a review letting me know what you think!