Moerae sensed the Yoma’s rage a second before the command was issued, the sudden spike of bloodthirsty Yoki bursting forth as it issued its order. Despite her forewarning, however, Moerae was unprepared when a red-colored Yoma sprang forth and chomped into one of the humans in line beside her. She was ready a second later, Claymore in hand and the red-skinned Yoma at her feet, gurgling as the Claymore looked for her next target. 

“Mommy!” a high-pitched voice screamed, a child running over and collapsing over the bloody body that was already cooling. “Mommy!”

[i]How pitiful and sad,[/i] Moerae thought, registering the child as she cut down another brave Yoma who was willing to test its chances. Not so much thinking her thoughts as looking down condescendingly at the humans, Moerae realized that humans were almost completely helpless against Yoma. They had neither the wit to realize that they were in danger, being unable to differentiate Yoma from humans, nor the physical requirements to do the only thing they seemed to know how to: run. [i]I suppose Claymore are needed, in that sense.[/i]

The crowd of Claymore who had been calmly watching the killing games had long since dispersed, the various single digits cutting down weaker Yoma one after the other. Raynald had headed directly for the source of the Yoki outburst, figuring that dispatching the leader was the fastest way to end everything. He wasn’t planning on spending too much time here, not even on behalf of Ansgar’s interest in the new Claymore. He’d seen enough — she was a defensive type, most likely, and her skills were similar to his own in that they both specialized in Yoki sensing. One day, perhaps, she’d be strong — perhaps as strong or even stronger than him —  but right now she was merely a new recruit, unfamiliar with her power and the norms of hunting Yoma.

Ansgar, unlike the goal-orientated Reynald, was currently running through the streets, cutting down whatever unfortunate bunch of Yoma he came across. “Are none of you strong?” he hollered at the fearful monsters who recognized his strength — cowards, the lot of them. “Are none of you capable of challenging me?”

Hearing the lead Claymore’s shout, Moerae was momentarily struck by how reckless, how idiotic Ansgar was. But, then again, he could afford such idiocy, and he was perhaps the only one that could. 

“Get everyone to that building over there,” Moerae told the line of terrified humans as she cut an arm off a charging Yoma, kicking it off to the side. “The other Claymores have cleared it out already and are moving to clear out the rest of town. I’ll stay and guard everyone.”

The winded Yoma — one arm less but twice as angry — charged again, frothy spittle flying as it roared towards the female Claymore. Moerae angled her sword, thrusting it forwards so that it stabbed right through the center of the Yoma’s torso before swinging it to the right, cutting through its heart. Beside her, the humans didn’t budge, instead watching in silent awe as the Yoma came crashing down, only to be replaced by another one of its angry brethren. 

“Go! What are you doing?” Moerae demanded, preparing to cut the newcomer down as well but still risking a glance at the unmoving line of likely casualties. The bloodied child sobbed on, wailing at his loss as the villagers huddled together in fear. [i]They’re angry — at[/i] me, Moerae realized with surprise, registering the burning emotion in the humans’ eyes. [i]But why? Am I not helping them — saving them?[/i]

The battle raged on, however, and Moerae narrowly ducked a mantis-like Yoma's arcing slash, severing it at its knees instead. She could consider everything humans seemed to think later -- there was a battle to be fought right now.

[hr]
[@lazarus]