Post by Moonbeam on Dec 7, 2007 11:19:08 GMT -5
Alright, guys. Because I've posted this fic on fanfiction.net, and have gotten some pretty good reviews, (and because I'm a vapid narcissist when it comes to my writing... =P), I've decided to post my Diablo II fic here. At least the prologue first. It pretty much follows the canon Diablo II storyline--except, with my own characters, and with a whole heck of a lot of deviation from the original.
And don't say I didn't warn you, i've placed it under the categories 'fantasy/romance' in FF.net, which is probably NOT most of the people here's cup of tea. =P
I'm not expecting anyone to read this, but here goes anyway.
---
Title: Footsteps of Glory
By: Emmelyn Cindy Mah
Category: Game/Diablo II, Lord of Destruction
Sub-Category: Action and Adventure/Drama/Romance
Summary: In the dark days of the Lords of Hatred, Terror, and Destruction, when all hope seems abandoned, several heroes of magnanimous differences undertake the greatest of burdens; the destroying of the three Prime Evils. This is their tale, as it is the tale of those who aid them for the freedom of the world they share.
Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo II, nor the concepts of the areas within the game, and the character classes and skills. I do, however, own the characters themselves, their names, appearances, and garments. All non-player characters and monsters mentioned are not my own, save for the development of their stories.
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Prologue: The Nonchalant Druid
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Twilight came gently upon the grassy plains surrounding the rogue encampment, bringing with it the rolling, chilly mist of the mountains. Beneath the calm, silent serenity—the façade, it was near impossible to comprehend the true depth of the troubles plaguing the land.
He sat upon a log just outside the gates of the encampment, appearing completely at leisure as he whistled nonchalantly to himself. A long, crooked staff lay on the ground at his feet, adorned with a single emerald headpiece. Yet further along the log lay a pack; within which numerous glass bottles of crimson and navy were visible to the wary eye.
Several long moments passed in which he sat in silence, merely content, as it were, to gaze out into the vastness of the grassy moor. He whistled softly to himself, an old tune all but forgotten save for few of his kinsmen.
“What news have you this day?” The voice that spoke was brisk; he had a vague idea that he recognized its owner.
He made no motion to turn to her, though he leaned back just a touch, stretching his arms wide. “Nothing.”
His lack of interest seemed to irritate the other, who promptly made to stand before him. Even as she bore down upon him, her icy-teal orbs flashing with unspoken annoyance, he smiled—brightly. “My rogue scouts are falling every day, and yet here you remain. Complacent.” She hissed. “Do you care at all?”
He blinked placidly as he gazed at her for a moment or two, eyes mirroring mild surprise. “You have a really short temper, Kashya. Charsi warned me of it—guess I should have listened to her.”
The one called Kashya narrowed her eyes. She opened her mouth, no doubt a retort ready, but he held up a hand to silence her.
“I shan’t attempt to satisfy your demand for news. But if I may, I will address the other complaints of me.” He continued. “Obviously, I have decided to aid your sisterhood in this battle against the darkness. Have I not single-handedly cleared the den of evil last week? Do you deny me a simple moment’s peace?”
She glared at him.
“Good. I believe we are understood, then.” He smiled, stretching easily once more.
Throwing one last withering look of disdain towards him, the revered captain of the rogue scouts turned on her heels, making to stride back into the encampment in which her, and her order, had made their home.
Truth be told, he rather sorry for her, and her sisterhood. Driven from their ancestral home by the forces of darkness had been tragedy enough; even then, after they had set up camp far from their home, the darkness had persued, and many of their sisters had since fallen to the demons of hell. When he’d first arrived at the encampment, they had been wary; suspicious. He did not blame them, for they had reason a-plenty for being so.
And yet, in the face of misfortune, the rogues held their tongues, refusing to complain and refusing to submit to their fear and despair. In fact, he’d always gotten the impression that the rogues rather hated being pitied, for all of their pride.
“You really should stop wreaking havoc upon Kashya’s nerves, Saul.”
For the second time that night, his brief resting period was intruded upon. He frowned. “Liene? Is your Captain shrieking her head off in there? Wait—” He smirked, drawing back from the Lieutenant of the rogues. “You aren’t here to make me apologize, are you?”
Liene smirked, shaking her head briskly. “You know, one of these days, you’re going to need her help fighting the demons. When you do, heaven smile down upon you, because it will not be easy harnessing her aid, after all you’ve said to injure her.” She lowered herself stiffly onto the log beside him, cradling her bow upon her lap as she would a priceless jewel.
He ran a finger along his clean-shaven jaw. His lips were curled into what was a rather rogue-ish smile. “Oh, she loves me. That’s why she pretends to yell at me and such.” Beneath the shadows cast by his dark, messy hair, his gray orbs twinkled with playful amusement.
“Don’t let her hear you say that.” Liene warned.
“She’s listening. Not very amused, though.”
Saul yelped, widening his eyes in mock surprise; he’d heard the Captain’s footsteps, felt her presence long before she’d spoken. He threw both his hands in the air, in a gesture of surrender. Beside him, Liene jumped immediately to her feet, slinging her bow over her shoulder to greet her superior. Apparently, she, alone had been taken by surprise at the arrival of her Captain.
“Captain Kashya!”
“Would you please excuse us, Liene?” Came the cold, dour voice—the Captain clearly was not amused. She stood with her eyes narrowed, tapping one chain-shod foot impatiently upon the ground. “I have need to speak to Master Vyreant here.”
Saul winced openly. “Goodbye, Liene. This may well be our last meeting.” He released a loud, dramatic sigh, blatantly choosing to ignore the Captain’s severe expression. Liene smirked, and, rolling her eyes, turned away.
The Captain stood in silence for a moment or two, her arms crossed over her chest. Clearly, she was going through a battle of sorts within her head; to trust the cocky stranger, or not. As though taunting her, he smiled lazily, before allowing his mouth to stretch into a giant yawn.
“Will we be speaking anytime this century, then?” He lifted both his eyebrows.
“Be quiet.” She snapped. “And listen.”
He gave her a mock-pout, but, though clearly amused, he remained silent.
“Flavie has informed me that there is something afoot within the burial grounds just yonder the Cold Plains.” Kashya hissed. “Apparently… one of our rogue sisters, Alathea, has been seen wandering the paths around the tombs.”
“And your point is?” Almost as soon as he’d opened his mouth, he’d regretted—She’d given him a look so stony, he was obliged to fall silent once more.
“She died over two months ago.” This time, the words were not hissed; neither were they filled with contempt. There was, instead, a rather pained quality to the Captain’s voice, as though the she were loathe to utter such words. “The only conclusion to this is that—that she’s been bought over to the dark side.”
Saul blinked. “Oh my.” He said, having found no intelligent remark to make.
“She has fashioned herself a new name. Blood Raven, she calls herself now.” Kashya seemed bolstered by his silence; she spoke with her usual authority once more—her lips thinning into a single, fine line. “And she is building an army of the undead; defiling the bodies of those long gone.”
Saul sat in silence for a moment. “…Shall I suppose that you wish me to stop her, then?” He lifted a brow.
The Captain’s lips thinned even further. She seemed to be considering him. After a moment, she nodded. “Please.”
The stars now dotted the night sky from corner to corner; night had fallen. Saul gazed silently into the Rogue Captain’s face; she, too, returned his stare, her’s a stony façade. Finally, with a trace of his former smile, he nodded.
“I’ll be on my way, then.” He began, jumping lightly to his feet.
He’d already gathered his pack and staff, and had taken several steps from her, when she spoke once more. “When you do it—” she began. He noted the slight tinge of sadness in her voice, though he pretended that he hadn’t. “—Do it gently.”
He nodded. “I shall put Alathea to rest. Properly.”
And without a second glance, he’d turned; the hem of his long, dark cloak billowing behind him. The Captain watched his striding figure for a brief moment, and she almost smiled. But then the moon disappeared behind the clouds; when it re-appeared, he was gone.
---
Oh, yes. And I'm thinking of re-posting the EAB Sims. Good idea? Bad?
And don't say I didn't warn you, i've placed it under the categories 'fantasy/romance' in FF.net, which is probably NOT most of the people here's cup of tea. =P
I'm not expecting anyone to read this, but here goes anyway.
---
Title: Footsteps of Glory
By: Emmelyn Cindy Mah
Category: Game/Diablo II, Lord of Destruction
Sub-Category: Action and Adventure/Drama/Romance
Summary: In the dark days of the Lords of Hatred, Terror, and Destruction, when all hope seems abandoned, several heroes of magnanimous differences undertake the greatest of burdens; the destroying of the three Prime Evils. This is their tale, as it is the tale of those who aid them for the freedom of the world they share.
Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo II, nor the concepts of the areas within the game, and the character classes and skills. I do, however, own the characters themselves, their names, appearances, and garments. All non-player characters and monsters mentioned are not my own, save for the development of their stories.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prologue: The Nonchalant Druid
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Twilight came gently upon the grassy plains surrounding the rogue encampment, bringing with it the rolling, chilly mist of the mountains. Beneath the calm, silent serenity—the façade, it was near impossible to comprehend the true depth of the troubles plaguing the land.
He sat upon a log just outside the gates of the encampment, appearing completely at leisure as he whistled nonchalantly to himself. A long, crooked staff lay on the ground at his feet, adorned with a single emerald headpiece. Yet further along the log lay a pack; within which numerous glass bottles of crimson and navy were visible to the wary eye.
Several long moments passed in which he sat in silence, merely content, as it were, to gaze out into the vastness of the grassy moor. He whistled softly to himself, an old tune all but forgotten save for few of his kinsmen.
“What news have you this day?” The voice that spoke was brisk; he had a vague idea that he recognized its owner.
He made no motion to turn to her, though he leaned back just a touch, stretching his arms wide. “Nothing.”
His lack of interest seemed to irritate the other, who promptly made to stand before him. Even as she bore down upon him, her icy-teal orbs flashing with unspoken annoyance, he smiled—brightly. “My rogue scouts are falling every day, and yet here you remain. Complacent.” She hissed. “Do you care at all?”
He blinked placidly as he gazed at her for a moment or two, eyes mirroring mild surprise. “You have a really short temper, Kashya. Charsi warned me of it—guess I should have listened to her.”
The one called Kashya narrowed her eyes. She opened her mouth, no doubt a retort ready, but he held up a hand to silence her.
“I shan’t attempt to satisfy your demand for news. But if I may, I will address the other complaints of me.” He continued. “Obviously, I have decided to aid your sisterhood in this battle against the darkness. Have I not single-handedly cleared the den of evil last week? Do you deny me a simple moment’s peace?”
She glared at him.
“Good. I believe we are understood, then.” He smiled, stretching easily once more.
Throwing one last withering look of disdain towards him, the revered captain of the rogue scouts turned on her heels, making to stride back into the encampment in which her, and her order, had made their home.
Truth be told, he rather sorry for her, and her sisterhood. Driven from their ancestral home by the forces of darkness had been tragedy enough; even then, after they had set up camp far from their home, the darkness had persued, and many of their sisters had since fallen to the demons of hell. When he’d first arrived at the encampment, they had been wary; suspicious. He did not blame them, for they had reason a-plenty for being so.
And yet, in the face of misfortune, the rogues held their tongues, refusing to complain and refusing to submit to their fear and despair. In fact, he’d always gotten the impression that the rogues rather hated being pitied, for all of their pride.
“You really should stop wreaking havoc upon Kashya’s nerves, Saul.”
For the second time that night, his brief resting period was intruded upon. He frowned. “Liene? Is your Captain shrieking her head off in there? Wait—” He smirked, drawing back from the Lieutenant of the rogues. “You aren’t here to make me apologize, are you?”
Liene smirked, shaking her head briskly. “You know, one of these days, you’re going to need her help fighting the demons. When you do, heaven smile down upon you, because it will not be easy harnessing her aid, after all you’ve said to injure her.” She lowered herself stiffly onto the log beside him, cradling her bow upon her lap as she would a priceless jewel.
He ran a finger along his clean-shaven jaw. His lips were curled into what was a rather rogue-ish smile. “Oh, she loves me. That’s why she pretends to yell at me and such.” Beneath the shadows cast by his dark, messy hair, his gray orbs twinkled with playful amusement.
“Don’t let her hear you say that.” Liene warned.
“She’s listening. Not very amused, though.”
Saul yelped, widening his eyes in mock surprise; he’d heard the Captain’s footsteps, felt her presence long before she’d spoken. He threw both his hands in the air, in a gesture of surrender. Beside him, Liene jumped immediately to her feet, slinging her bow over her shoulder to greet her superior. Apparently, she, alone had been taken by surprise at the arrival of her Captain.
“Captain Kashya!”
“Would you please excuse us, Liene?” Came the cold, dour voice—the Captain clearly was not amused. She stood with her eyes narrowed, tapping one chain-shod foot impatiently upon the ground. “I have need to speak to Master Vyreant here.”
Saul winced openly. “Goodbye, Liene. This may well be our last meeting.” He released a loud, dramatic sigh, blatantly choosing to ignore the Captain’s severe expression. Liene smirked, and, rolling her eyes, turned away.
The Captain stood in silence for a moment or two, her arms crossed over her chest. Clearly, she was going through a battle of sorts within her head; to trust the cocky stranger, or not. As though taunting her, he smiled lazily, before allowing his mouth to stretch into a giant yawn.
“Will we be speaking anytime this century, then?” He lifted both his eyebrows.
“Be quiet.” She snapped. “And listen.”
He gave her a mock-pout, but, though clearly amused, he remained silent.
“Flavie has informed me that there is something afoot within the burial grounds just yonder the Cold Plains.” Kashya hissed. “Apparently… one of our rogue sisters, Alathea, has been seen wandering the paths around the tombs.”
“And your point is?” Almost as soon as he’d opened his mouth, he’d regretted—She’d given him a look so stony, he was obliged to fall silent once more.
“She died over two months ago.” This time, the words were not hissed; neither were they filled with contempt. There was, instead, a rather pained quality to the Captain’s voice, as though the she were loathe to utter such words. “The only conclusion to this is that—that she’s been bought over to the dark side.”
Saul blinked. “Oh my.” He said, having found no intelligent remark to make.
“She has fashioned herself a new name. Blood Raven, she calls herself now.” Kashya seemed bolstered by his silence; she spoke with her usual authority once more—her lips thinning into a single, fine line. “And she is building an army of the undead; defiling the bodies of those long gone.”
Saul sat in silence for a moment. “…Shall I suppose that you wish me to stop her, then?” He lifted a brow.
The Captain’s lips thinned even further. She seemed to be considering him. After a moment, she nodded. “Please.”
The stars now dotted the night sky from corner to corner; night had fallen. Saul gazed silently into the Rogue Captain’s face; she, too, returned his stare, her’s a stony façade. Finally, with a trace of his former smile, he nodded.
“I’ll be on my way, then.” He began, jumping lightly to his feet.
He’d already gathered his pack and staff, and had taken several steps from her, when she spoke once more. “When you do it—” she began. He noted the slight tinge of sadness in her voice, though he pretended that he hadn’t. “—Do it gently.”
He nodded. “I shall put Alathea to rest. Properly.”
And without a second glance, he’d turned; the hem of his long, dark cloak billowing behind him. The Captain watched his striding figure for a brief moment, and she almost smiled. But then the moon disappeared behind the clouds; when it re-appeared, he was gone.
---
Oh, yes. And I'm thinking of re-posting the EAB Sims. Good idea? Bad?
