Legends of Belariath

Arissa Altiur

The summer, in the sky, reflections in her pale blue eyes. The brightness of the sun, a soft gold touching her delicious flesh as wings of purest snow carry her across the land. As fire doth burn, as do the locks of her hair seem to be as they caress down along her toned cheeks and slender shoulders, like waves of gentle flames cascading along her in a flowing stream. A touch or simple motion seemed to be all that was needed for her full, yet firm and perky, breasts to ripple within the tight confines of dress, flirting along with dark roses. Wondrous it was, two thin straps along her shoulders were all that seemed to keep those delightful globes from spilling forth to the hungry eyes of all those who had been watching, waiting to see them in desire. Yet that was not all, the sleeves like silken petals along her lower arms into flowing cuffs about her wrists. Even more seemed to tease the gaze of those near, soft pink silk cleverly hiding her petite, rounded ass, yet deigns to show her sumptuous thighs and legs for lustful eyes to feast upon, only to be foiled once more as the cloth caressed softly between her thighs, keeping their sight at bay from seeing what she had hidden just under the thin silk. She is the Temptress of the Burning rose, a fiery passion that consumes you, craving your beautiful cries of pleasure. She is the heat in your blood that rushes through your veins, she is ecstasy, and she blazes like the sun. Can you tame her, or will you be washed away by her passionate flames?

From proud to felled and felled to here, This woman now doth spend her years.

They say that pride does come before the fall, And of this adage this woman does now speak testament to us all.

Made up to be above all others, then made to nothing in a moments time, She was undone to their ends, she whose only crime was not to ask so many questions

She has now become what she did make, A human thing it is, this cycle, never ending in its hateTo those rise and those who fall, look now on her and see it all

She will sit there, sublime in her hidden grace, She will sit there, melancholy looks dancing on her face

Ever longing for what could have been,Yet accepting that which has now come,She will sit ever more, alone in what has been done

Masters come to claim her body, but her soul they cannot takeAngel blessed and demon cursed, the slave that they cannot break

Listen well and hear her tale, for it holds in her life, her gloryLearn well its lesson lest you too fall, and this is where we start her story.

She was beautiful, of this there is no question, that smile she did have, it seemed to radiate from her form and send all of the men's hears aflutter, though she was called by most the untouchable woman. She was her work, and she took no humility in that, she was the best and she knew it, and she hardly would let you ever forget it. A Slave Mistress, a woman without give, she was the one who would break the new flesh in. She was not cruel, she was not sadistic, but she did not hold back the lash, not when it was needed. She could break a mind and shape a soul, and she did it without compassion, they would come in to her home, and within a month they would be ready. She only let them touch her once, a kiss pressed to her lips, as they did leave her home, they would get there one moment with there mistress. Even at eighteen she had learned her craft well, so much so that other masters looked to her for advice. She did not make them into mindless drones, but she pushed them to the point that they lost all will of their own.

It seems we can live the same day, a thousand times over, but it takes but a moment, to end all that we know, and redefine our very nature. Fire has this nasty habit, of killing those it touches, and when her town was set ablaze, it ripped through her home with abandon. She was forced out into the streets, the nights sky alive with embers, and she fled with her kin, seeking to find shelter. They could not take to wing, the fires forced them down, the smoke made them blind, and in that lack of air she found herself on the ground. She slipped away into that state, the darkness over came her, but five minutes had then passed from the terrified awakening, and it seemed to her at that moment, a most anti-climactic ending.

She woke up to a hard shot to the jaw; the pain slammed into her body as she snapped her head up, ready to rip the face of the fool who dare struck her. She could not move, she soon discovered, she was tied to post, stripped of all her garments, nude and dirty before these men, but there was only one that stood before her. “Yer name don't matter no more, ya belong ta us, and ifen ya thinkin of runnin, ever, we will simply slit yer bitch throat.”And with that, those harsh and biting words, she was made their slave, and to their whims she would serve. They started, as most would think they did, they raped her for days it seemed the five of them. They took there turns, they used her hard, and when she though she would pass out, she would feel there magics slither into her, recovering her just enough. She fought with them for the first few hours, then she simply let her mind turn off, they took their fill of her body, until they could no more.

The days began to have a routine, she would be awakened with a raping, and then a rather savage beating, if she did not pleasure them, as they wanted her too do. She would then tend to the slavers hut, to clean the tools they used on her, sometimes she would have to wipe up her own blood, from the random painful interludes. She came to expect the pain, even as the ripped the feathers from her wings, she could cry out and tear up, but it stopped mattering to her, if she lived or died. For months the slaver then tided her wings to her body, the pain still felt to this day, every time she unlocks them, as they made her look like they.

Within that time that spread of months she simply did what she was told, she fought them, for a while, but quickly she learned not to be so bold. At first she had hissed, she had kicked and fought back, but they were nowhere near as good as she had been, they just wanted her to put up the act. She let go her mind, she turned it off, she hid within herself, she did as she was told, and that kept the beatings less. She would obey without vigor, she would do as she was told with out question, and she was what they wanted from her, a broken woman in all her mindless perfection. Still she held on, within her own mind, but she could feel that hope slipping, like the grains of sand that was her life, were passing through her fingers.

One night she did lay awake, to try and recall her mother, she blinked a time, and she could not recall, more then some vague and hazy shadow. She wanted to cry, but she held back, afraid she might draw to herself her masters ire. She was slowly now forgetting, all that she had been, like the fading of a dream, the passing of some fantastic story, she had her on a merchants lips, she was loosing the person, Christine, and simply becoming, This one.

All hope seemed last, she had simply given up that night, but fate was not done with her yet. She lay awake, and tried her best to simply forget. She knew her life would be much more simple, if she simply become what they wanted, maybe even if she tried harder, she could someday be allowed to fly again. She then heard it, a terrible crash, the sound of an explosion, and again the flames that had at one time been used by these barbarians, were now turned against them. Rock trolls, the kind of trolls that had the least fear of flame, swept into that town, and of their land they sought to reclaim. The tribe she was with had been waging war, and now it seemed as though they were going to loose it horribly.

He master did charge from his hut, that massive axe well in hand, he joined his brethren in a desperate last stand. She saw then her beloved sky, and only those leather straps to hold her. She had no memory now left of what she was, not fully, but she did remember that she should fly, whenever she was in danger. She snapped up the dagger from his bed and cut those ties from her, she winces in pain and pleasure as her wings she did now open. She then ran, to get away, the tears running down her face. She looked back and thought for a time, that she belonged at her place. She wanted to be her masters slave. The fire though, that reminded her of her self, and she simply ran, to scared and confused to do anything but what she knew, she took to the air, and for the first time in so many months, she finally flew. She beat her wings for many days, afraid someone might find her, she forced herself until she came, to this town she is now a slave in. She fled, only to become flesh once again, though at least in time, she has remembered who she was. This is where our tale does end, and from that she can tell you, her past she knows is no longer hers, but she enjoys the thoughts of it at times, the memory of family. She sits, sometimes, alone, looking at the sky, wondering to herself, what would have happened if I had chosen not to fly?

Written by Du`ghals player.

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