Progress

Well, it's been awhile since I've written and a lot of things have happened since then.

1. I'm engaged.
2. I've graduated.
3. I'm employed.
4. I like lists.

I've been a busy lady and that has resulted in my writing being pushed back. But I'm not too bothered and I hope you aren't either by it. There are plenty of better authors out there, but I am happy if you like my work.

I am still working on a Diablo 2 story and it still is a continuation of the series. While I'm glad of all the feedback I've received on Fallen, I take the "no news is good news" approach to it; if it was awful I'm sure my inbox would be ashes with the number of flames that could fill it.

I'm working on the plot of it right now. That's the stage I like the most if I haven't said that before. I like to build up the plot by point form then add the meat to the bones of the story gradually. It builds with detail bit by bit.

I think the reason I write my stories from point format to begin with is because I need the organization. I don't know if I've said this, but Longing to be with you was written chapter-by-chapter with small thought given towards future chapters.

And people wonder why it's such a train wreck... ha ha. :)

The next story is Prodigy. One of the main characters has already been introduced and a several old characters return.

So to the few people who actually sneak here, you get to see a bit of the first chapter in advance:

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Diablo 2: Prodigy
by Lady Jasmine

Disclaimer: I do not own DIablo 2, this is a fanfic purely for entertainment and parody purposes with no profit whatsoever. Diablo 2 and its characters belongs to its respective companies/owners.
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Twas upon one starry eve
the amazon prodigy was given life.
And was upon a dark day she announced
to never lay like anyone's wife.

She turned down the best prospects,
hoping for one more suited for her.
If she sees her future holding something great,
then I say 'tis her eyes that be in a blur.

How strange this act of
one of the top amazon defenders.
Perhaps she prefers her mate
to be of some distorted lackless gender?

Never shall she spread her legs
for a man who desires her so.
The softness of her breasts and womanhood,
not one man shall ever know.

She claims to keep her innocence
just to have her morals pleased.
But it could be something more indeed
like hiding an incurable disease?

Perhaps she fears not pleasing a man
and fears being tossed aside.
And that man shall take up another woman,
because even whores will allow him inside.

But if the lovely lady's virginity were sold,
she'd earn a fortune or more.
Being chaste will never earn you money, my dear,
so t'would be best you be a gloried whore.

You claim the loss of self-respect
be your greatest fear along with pride.
But, my striking one, you are wrong:
you fear letting a man inside.

What is it you hide from?
Are you scared of the pain?
There will be no hurt if you heed my words
and do the act again and again.

You claim yourself to be different,
do you belive thyself as complex?
You are not so because I know what are:
a wee lass scared of the stronger sex.
- Originally sung by Bayard, until it spread through the lands and spawned several bastardized variations.

----

"Stronger sex...? Stronger sex? STRONGER sex?!!" Her voice grew louder as her offense to the song become more obvious with each repetition.

The men in the dilapidated tavern inched off their rotting bar stools and scooted away from the dark haired woman, slamming her fist on the bar and screeching her disdain in a voice that would sour the milk and the cow it came from. The furious woman wasn't fragile or fair—-thus considered ugly--but she was striking; she had a strength to her face and eyes that taunted men and dared only brave ones to look twice longingly.

In the confines of the Grand Escape tavern and inn recently erected in the now thriving desert city of Lut Gholein, a raven haired woman's hand lashed out and choked the mug's handle, threatening to obliterate it into splinters within the firm grip of her decidedly feminine hand.

One man dared to give the stink eye to the woman. Clearly he was irritated that her outburst stopped the song from repeating the final stanza faster and faster until only one drunkard remain singing. That was the game of the song and the woman simply ruined the fun.

A dark angry aura seemed to rise off of the woman as all but her neck remained perfectly still. Her head was turning slowly in a twitchy manner, her nerves torn raw from the drunken ditty. She haughtily stared down the man who dared to give her any attitude be it through one's voice or actions.

She had her own actions to accompany her displeasure which she would happily follow through with.

Minutes later, she left the bar. She couldn't help but smirk to herself as she walked down the dusty streets. Even when she was in the area of the legendary blacksmith's workplace she could still see the arms of a man frantically waving and screaming at the top of his lungs.

His form, though a dark silhouette against the red skyline of the desert city of the west, was impressive. It was a feat that he could even get air into his lungs given how much effort it had taken the woman to shove the rude bar patron up the fireplace chimney.

The rules of the amazon life was simple:
1. Honour and pride among you and your sisters
2. Courage in light and darkness.
3. Never disrespect the prodigal amazon.

As she tossed back her dark hair, Celesta still felt her fury boiling. Furious? Yes! Of course she was furious. She, the mighty Celesta of the Amazons, daughter of the revered Kaelith and student to the legendary Illeila was being laughed at. Imagine the nerve! All she could do was clenched her fists tightly; she was not used to this brand of rage and was unsure of what to do it.

She halted in her tracks, the dust rising up from her worn boots that were covered in a fine layer of dirt. According to Amazonian laws, offended sisters were given the right to exact their revenge or displeasure upon those who offend. Granted, the original author was no responsible for the song was not under or a follower of the Amazon ways... however, that fact alone would not spare him of Celesta's right to follow through with tradition and justice.

Celesta had heard the song many times. With each retelling she had heard though it became more and more offensive to her. The point of the song remained and it was beyond insulting! To suggest that females were the weaker sex and that Celesta had failed to find a mate as tradition dictated was unacceptable.

There was more to her tale, but she was beyond unwilling to find the stupid bard and explain herself. It however was not beyond her to find the bard for other reasons.

She knew she needed to find the bard, but she was unsure of how anyone was supposed to track someone down based on just one clue: his name, Bayard.

*****