Legends of Belariath

Caila

Caila stands 5'6 a lithe and delicate looking creature. Her skin glows sun-kissed while her large jade-green eyes sparkle like gems set under her golden. Her body though small is blessed with the wonder of womanly curves. A smile always seems to dance upon her pouty lips, as if she knows something no one else seems to know.

Since coming to this land Caila has begun to attire herself in eye catching clothing, already tiny waist corested to enhance the crest of those breasts. A dancers stance guides her steps, glances of long legs caught from the slits in her skirting. Exposed is the expanse of her toned stomach, wasitband of her skirt caught upon her hips, only adding to the impact of her graceful movements.The sweetest of contrast, that new addition to her dancers body, the ebon ink whirling across the valley of her breasts to the succor of her sex, a path to neverending pleasure. Each shoulder bears a whisping pattern as well, leading to a protective crest at her nipples, even if unclothed she is adorned.

Her mother a Sylvan ranger who was raped during a scouting mission by a human warrior. Because of her love for the innocent life inside of her and because of her pain at remembering the deed which planted it within her womb, the choice was made to give the infant to the Temple of Leassa. Beliving all life is granted with a purpose no matter the circumstances involving it, the priestess's took in the babe and named her Caila.

And so the child grew with in the inner circles of love, relishing in the stories and rituals to the goddess of fertility. Caila was adept at storytelling and preforming but surely showed a gift with prose. This talent was looked upon as a blessing and therefore she was trained as a bard, learning not only her preformance arts but the art of protecting herself as well.

But all things wonderful must come to an end at some point. When Caila reached the age of understanding she was told she must leave the safety of the Temple..and make her own way in the world. While all of these years the Priest and Priestesses coddled her every whim and desire, it was made known to them that her path lay elsewhere.

Nothing not where to go...or what to do Caila gathered her strength and her wits about her, some moves are based on Faith and with this knowlege she made her way about the wilderness in search of her true path, never knowing she was making her way to the land of pleasure and pain, love and hate, making her way to the Inn.

How simple it would have been if this had been the end of our story. Caila set out on her path, leading her through the land of her birth, and further into countries she knew not. Beautiful in form, and blissful in her innocence she wandered ignorant into the open arms of a Slaver. Sold to the highest bidder, Caila went to the home of her new Master. Her talents soon exposed she lived as she could her heart aching for her freedom. Master was a tortured soul, who enjoyed warping innocence into guilt, pain into pleasure. The only way for Caila to survive the tortures he composed for her were to watch the other slaves, and copy their emotions and movements, careful to not expose true Heart in any manner. And so time passed, Caila trapped in a prison of her mind. Soon a plan was hatched and with the smallest seed of deciet, Caila put her plan in motion. She took a lover, a boorish brute of a man, never exposing her true self to him. With tender touches, lustful acts and careful utter whispers, she promised him her heart, her mind as well as her body, the whole time painting a picture of her true Master as the real Brute. Becoming a shadow of herself, she conned her Lover into the murder of her Master. Knowing the deed was done, knowing that now her debt would be due, she pointed the finger only at the Brute, never exposing her part in this passion play.

Sickened by her own actions, sick at her core for her own

betrayl of her values, Caila ran, seeking solace in the woods about her, free yet chased by the demons that would not let her be. Careful to avoid attention she promised herself a new start, to leave the blackness of her soul behind, to go to a land that others like her, other tainted beings could exist, a place where the shadows could not find her. Her art brought her through, selling her prose, selling her dances to make ends meet hearing words of it spoken by other bards..hearing of the meeting place called only The Inn. A place of Legend and Lore, a place where she could watch and learn of our true natures, all races, all kinds. Surely there who could judge, who could guess her past. Her eyes shine the steely knowledge of what she has done, but her smile reflects only her vision of where she is going.

Once a slave, trained to be what would please, what would cause balant lust, after time exposed to the needs of Beleraith, she has discovered something with in her. Strength. There are many types of domination, the most joyous to her discovered upon her knees. Emotions so clear here, this bard has many a story to tell, many a story to experiance and a lifetime to embrace it.

How many years have passed here for the Bardess? Does it matter to her now? Nikolas, her one true love is gone, and all those wonderful emotions she had dared to allow into her soul have fled. Alone, and yet not, the beautiful one still reflects that sunshine, the dazzling smile, the warm nature. Almost always that is, those who anger her, those who taunt or try to capture her for their own, find that the sugary sweetness, is a pleasent decoy for the rage that exists within. Working, perfection her craft, Caila moves one with her life, or the shell of it that exists now. Laughter hides such pain, and makes it easier for her to pretend.

Pain, it was more then that, wasnt it. Walking as she has, those experiance that have molded her, which had made her strong, now forgotten. The halfing has begun to slowly lose her mind, at least at times. Forgetting events, strange behavior, people. It didnt matter, she was terrified. What it is to wake up and wonder how the person beside you got there, of who they are. It happens at times, with no control, the fuges thankfully farther apart now, her soul settling into covering up the madness that is claiming her. Only when in the throes of passion now does she feel in control, dones she feel as if she isnt losing the thin strings that hold her together. That temper when her mask is flushed, when her bluff is called. It wont be long now, she will lose what little sanity remains. Her only hope is to figure out what is causing it, what darkness was controlling her light heart. She remains kind, at least when the right personailty is out. How does one know that their grasp on reality is changing...they dont.

Tender kisses,

Exposed to fate.

Tempered by love,

Made stronger by Hate.

Emotions so pure,

and yet not allowed.

To lead with your Heart,

Or to follow your Head.

Which in the end allows your body to sing?

Stolen kisses,

Lifes sure embrace,

Natures reward,

Just for one taste.

Here they stand alone,

Here they lay as one.

Tomorrow anouther,

The conquest undone.

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