Archive for the ‘Port of Olni’ Category

ANARCHY IS AFOOT ~ Chinks in the Armor of Gor

Saturday, November 1st, 2014

olni river

Olni River – Saleria

ANARCHY IS AFOOT ~ Chinks in the Armor of Gor

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni

I am almost finished telling you the story of my landing on Gor and the Masters that have populated my life. But, I have to stop a moment with that narrative because I was much disturbed this week by the activities I was witness to. These happenings were clearly the avant garde of creeping anarchy.

One of the treasured feelings I have since arriving on Gor is the pecking order of caste’s and the place of slaves in all this. The world I came from permitted migrations across class structure. Sometimes this was for the good as when an uneducated person crosses into the dominion of the educated. But these migrations can have a negative side as when a person lies their way into a situation that is over their heads. These arrivistes lay waste the class that they are pushing themselves into. They cause small anarchies which are observed and mostly followed by those who lack morals, scruples, and logic. I am saddened that these anarchists are becoming rampant on Gor and no one is there to stop them.

I witnessed this week a so-called free woman arrive at the gates, ask for entrance and then run around the commons like a vulo with its head cut off. It was strange since this so-called free woman had been slave just a short time ago. Her collar was removed for no good reason and she left the city that freed her and travelled to parts west and north. This woman arrived unescorted. She was closely questioned by two warriors who informed her that she was begging to be collared. They demanded her manumission papers, the whereabouts of her escort, and the reason why she was darkening the door of the city once more. Her answers were none too convincing. The Warriors threatened her with a lockup in the kennels. They were within their total right. All this was as it should be according to the great historian of Gor, Master Norman. The anarchy appeared in the form of a couple of free men who outright told the warriors that they were incorrect. It was a face palming moment for me but thankfully the warriors stood their ground.

Anarchy of course means disorder due to the absence or the non recognition of authority. In its simple form it means, do what you want, do what you feel and to hell with the consequences because, guess what, there are none.

Well, the lady in question had to produce her manumission papers which appeared forged but were accepted by the magistrate.

There were other moments when I saw the planet’s free espousing party lines that had no basis in fact. There was an incident where a free man was questioning a slave about her mischief. She traded jibes with the free male as if he was a street vendor. If that wasn’t bad enough, a newly minted slave freshly arrived from Earth, told the free man off. She said that he had no right to whip the mischievous slave and proclaimed this loudly. In the Gor that I have previously known, both those slaves would have been whipped publically. If they chose to commit a second offense like that to a free, they would have been impaled.

The free man reluctantly whipped one slave and used strong speech on the other. I expected him to say to them, “Go and sin no more,” and give them passes to a dinner out and a show.

This little travesty was also witnessed by a thrall who definitely looked strange. Looking at him you would have thought that he should have been quarantined for he looked like the Bazi Plague had taken over his body. This poor unfortunate had blue hair and the spots of a Earth leopard painted on his body. We know from the Master Historian that Goreans did not have blue hair nor did they have tattoo’s scattered all over their body. He definitely had crawled out from a rock and snuck by the powers that be to sleaze around the city.

Awhile back I recounted this nightmare I had whilst I slept. It bears repeating here. In this nightmare, I “saw” the commons area peopled with slave and free. The free women were without veils and their beautiful robes of concealment turned into wispy skirts that revealed their naked pudenda’s as they sat with their thighs spread open on cushions. Their bodices had disappeared and in their place was transparent cloth straining to cover breasts that clearly were exposed. The nightmare grew darker still as slaves, all carrying weapons, sullenly went about their tasks standing over and looking down on the free insulting them as they offered their service. I suspected that the male slaves were actually admiring the breasts of the free women, unrestrained and bouncing free.

Also in that dream, over at the gates, warriors were standing. I felt comforted at their sight until I got closer and the sight made my jaw drop. It was hard to discern the sex of the warriors at first but it became evident that they were all women! Their legs were hairy, their underarms doubly so, and they stood around talking about gate admittance procedures scratching their privates and passing gas. One of these freaks was being referred to as COMMANDER. For all their posturing they were poor imitations of men. I had the feeling though that I might be able to “take” them down in battle.

In the dream I walked back to the commons hoping to find a change in the atmosphere. It had become worse. The free women were ordering the free men around. I heard one yell at her male companion, “What a poor excuse for a companion you are. You can’t satisfy your slave and you certainly have problems maintaining an erect member with me. Worthless mul.” I looked on as the man hung his head and my heart went out to him. Oh, and it did get worse from here…

As I “looked” upon the commons in my nightmare who should appear but myself! I was horrible to behold. I stood clothed in black leather with my feet encased in stilettos. They were the kind of foot coverings that the men of earth referred to as “knock-me-down-and-fornicate-with-me” shoes. It was a beastly sight, even for THIS beast. The dream-state me was brandishing a rather long sword, a bow with a quiver full of arrows and daggers inserted throughout my hair. I looked like a cross between a medusa and an “über” panther. And talk about rude! I was shouting from the kitchen to a Mistress. “What the blazes do you want now Mistress Tam? More fookin’ chocolate? Get off your fat ass and get it yourself. Can’t you see I have my mouth full of your companions baby maker?”

The strident sounds emitting from my cruelly twisted lips thankfully woke me up with a start.

Anarchy is hard to arrest. It grows, watered by self deception and ignorance. I was thinking that if Gor were to have another caste created it would be the “Watcher” caste. These cast members would have the vast knowledge of the Master Historian’s Scrolls. Their knowledge would be different from scribes and magistrates as their sole purpose would be to take care of the harebrained comments by those who have never studied the scrolls. This “Watcher” caste would have their own meetings in their own cities and Gor wide conventions where the asinine mouthing’s of Goreans who invent their own truth are aired in public and analyzed.

This, of course, will never take place as most would say, who would “watch” the “watchers”? I leave you with that for the moment and retire to the commons area to find everything in its place for now. I will go back to a Gor where gracious and obedient slaves pleasantly perform their tasks of serving the free. Where concealed and thankful free ladies sip tea in the afternoon. Where handsome and protective Masters oversee the beauty around them and swear silently to protect this way of life. All is right with the world for at least another ahn.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 179

River Mouth

Saturday, July 26th, 2014

Olni

Pictures: Where the Olni river (Saleria) flows into the Vosk – near Tancred’s Landing, upper Vosk area

I am back – The Return of the Prodigal

Saturday, June 7th, 2014

Klima

Picture: Isle of Landa [April 2011]

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni

I’M BAAAAAAACK ~ The Return of the Prodigal

In the first place you could say, “She’s back? I didn’t know she was gone.” and in the second place, you could say, “Oh God no! If she calls, tell her I’m not here.” Either way I am glad to be back and I want to warn you, don’t duck into the nearest alley when you see me coming.

There were so many things to observe and hear in Port Olni on my first day back. My Master rented a house. He wanted to rent the same house he was living in when he left Olni. Unfortunately someone had rented his old house and he took the house across the lane. The houses are similar in everyway except they are across from each other. When he told me that we could not have the old dwelling, I tried to hide my piteous cries by stuffing my face with a cream cake.

He could see through my deception which means either I am a poor liar or I find it amusing to feign distress through a mouthful of cake. In any instance, he said, “Would you like me to gag you slut? I think I will gag you, then you can’t make noise and you can’t eat. That will solve your problem and mine.” I rather thought he was being harsh with me but I quickly remembered that I had no rights as I am an animal. So I stopped screwing around and came correct.

It turned out okay because the new house is more commodious. I would like to say to the citizen that rented the old house of my Master in Olni Var…I don’t like what you have done with the place.

I was actually hoping that my Master would have changed his hair color, taken on a new caste and moved to Vonda. I would also have disguised my appearance. Moving to Vonda would have made it expeditious to poison the wells there and kill off the vermin who inhabit the city.

But, I am happy to be back in Port Olni. I am familiar with the market stalls and those who keep them. The proprietors were glad to see me back with my marketing basket. They give me free samples of their wares so I will stand by their places of business and attract men which brings in needed tarsks.

It is also easier to write my column in Port Olni. It is very quiet in Olni Var. One my first day back I was stopped by our sainted Ubara. She was carrying a scroll case loaded down with scrolls that had arrived for me while I was gone. They were from Gorean’s who had sent in questions for “ASK TEAL”. I must get to answering them.

There were a lot of things that have taken place though since my Master left. A few of them, architectural in nature. The first building I was greeted by is a new tavern that was erected by Buildem and Pray, the architectural firm that the Ubar and Ubara so often put into their employ. The tavern is a public building that is now worthy of the town of Olni.

The new tavern off the commons is akin to a four star restaurant on earth and probably would receive two stars in the Guide Michelin if it were an earth bound establishment. But as it is a Gorean tavern the men could care less if there was excrement on the floors. I, on the other hand, appreciate a well designed and sumptuously decorated space. The new tavern off the commons is now such a place. There is a full kitchen, tasteful art on the walls and a nice dance pit. The only disconcerting note inside the building was a low wooden table with bench seats. The wood used in its building appeared to have been taken from some weathered material in an outdoor picnic area. I overheard that the Ubara is having a lovely marble table constructed for the tavern which will soon replace the old one.

Another building I was glad to see reinstated was the male and female bath house. I think water had become precious in Olni at one point and the bath house was demolished. In its place was a rickety old building that one felt afraid to go into. There was no privacy for men or women and it languished for a time. Olni was starting to smell ripe since no one wanted to use the bath house. I took to swimming in the Olni River everyday. Now a bath house that is accessible in a garden setting. It is also far enough out of the city that loud late night parties will not disturb anyone.

While covering the new construction in Port Olni I have one sad note to report. It is the existence of a group of apartment cylinders in the Olni Var garden. I visited them briefly and felt immediately trapped inside their forbidding walls. I think we need to put the jail where the apartments are and replace the jail with the apartments. With a few deft touches the jail could become a sought after address and the cylinder apartments would function nicely as roomy jail cells.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 161

HOW GOREAN PHYSICIANS TREAT A SHOCK AND HALLUCINATIONS

Tuesday, April 29th, 2014

Rose Harlow

Lady Rose Khaos [Rose Harlow], head physician to the Port City of Olni

THE NEW VOICE OF GOR: This new subspecies of the famous Cosian Wingfish (Parexocoetus brachypterus Cosinus) causes a kind of shock if it was prepared incorrectly: How do Gorean physicians treat a shock? What has to be done first?

Lady Rose Khaos: Well it all depends on the kind of shock. If it is mental then it is best to try to relax the patient and get them to relax, if it is more of a power surge through the body then it is best to just let them recover slowly and watch their vital signs. But I have found if it is a male who is in shock send in about five female slaves and let them have their joys with the man.

THE NEW VOICE OF GOR: Symptoms and side effects of the poison of the fish are hallucinations and nightmares. What do mind healers do against that kind of illness?

Lady Rose Khaos: Well you know that is honestly a good question, most would probably use herbs and such or do a lobotomy on them as for me I would most likely turn them loose in a raid and let them defend a city.

THE NEW VOICE OF GOR: Some symptoms of the hallucinates are similar to the effects of the frobicain injection. Mostly this takes the form of hysterical weeping, threats, demands for explanation, screaming and such. These symtoms have been found in the tavern of Vonda where they offered the red Cosian Wingfish and where several citizens of Vonda amd even a member of the black caste have eaten the fish. What do you recommend against that?

Lady Rose Khaos: Next time I would say have the bosk I have heard it is amazing with a nice aged paga and after that have a nice bowl of fruit and a good nap.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 156

ASK TEAL – Dubious advice to Goreans

Tuesday, April 8th, 2014

Olni

Pictures: Docks of the city of Olni – Saleria

ASK TEAL ~ Dubious advice to Goreans
By Teal Razor

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni Warrior

DEAR TEAL:
Here is my problem. I have a fast approaching pre-arranged companioning with one of the my caste; the caste of warriors. I recently witnessed him denouncing his superior and refusing to defend his Home Stone while the city was under attack. His actions have chilled me to the bone. I want to escape the coming ceremony that I have no control over. It seems my mother and father are adamant that this one is a “keeper” and have elaborate plans costing a sack of gold tarns which my family can ill afford to spend. It might ruin my family. Do you have a suggestion?

DEAR LOOKING FOR THE BACK DOOR OUT:
Let us delve into your dilemma. I perceive that you are a free woman since you mentioned an upcoming companioning ceremony and that you are of the honorable warrior’s caste. So I am certain you know the codes as any honorable Gorean and would be distraught at someone defecating on them. I can say, as a slave, I would not want a traitor to darken my doorstep and I cast a dim view on the outcome of this event. The worse that can happen is that you will need to stick around and endure his personal shame for a year. Then when the anniversary of your ceremony comes due, you will choose not to renew. Then “you’re home free baby!”

Sorry, I forgot you do not know that term. It was effective communication on earth. I have to keep reminding myself that there is a little blue ball out there called earth. A place I have some fond memories of. But, such is life and one must make the best of it.

I am getting off track. Back to the copious piles of gold that will be spent on this catered affair. It seems to matter not if you run from the affair or stay and be a party of the companioning to this spitting image of bosk dung, you probably WILL, if companioned, leave your companion after a year, (that poor excuse for a meat suit) which will cause your parents to lament the day your were born. If you run pre-companioning, your parents would not only regret ever knowing you, they might lose their retirement. Either way your parents lose even though you will come out about even. So let’s see what can be done to let your parents back out of this dubious “celebration” with good graces and seem heroic for having done so.
 
It will be up to you to mount a grass roots campaign to declare your “future companion” unfit. All of Gor needs to know of the “warrior” who defecated on his caste codes. Gor must be warned when this type of mental illness creeps on board. No self-respecting free woman would allow the progeny of this psychotic to exit from her womb let alone enter her womb.

Again, I digress. So, in mounting a crusade, you will be vindicated. Your parents will be proud that you stood up for true caste members where ever they may be, and you will be relieved of the guilt and shame of causing the ruination of your parents.

By the way, if you need a campaign manager, I am available on short notice.

abydos

DEAR TEAL:
I am a slave. I used to live in the northern climes of Gor. There, we called our masters, Jarls. We did not have to kneel in the presence of the free. We could walk by them and not be concerned that the free would want a report of who we were and where were we going. We had too much work to do to be kneeling down and relaxing. I was bought by a new Master and he lives in a southern clime. In the new city, I have to kneel constantly in the presence of the free, I have to say Master this and Master that. I am not happy with all this regimentation. I do not want to run away. Do you have a solution for me?

DEAR DEEP IN NOSTALGIA:
You seem to know little about how things are done around here. I appreciate that you come from a land that you have good feelings about. I too know of such feelings myself. Here is what I don’t do, though. I don’t kneel all the time in the presence of the free. Think about it, if you got on your knees to every free person you passed, even though they may not give a rosy red urts ass as to the reason you are walking around , you would never be able to accomplish tasks.

I do kneel when I am speaking to them or they are speaking to me or if I am serving them. Otherwise a slave does not have to spend their lives on their knees. It is a bad habit in any case and can cause prepatellar bursitis. So if you are cooking, cleaning, and marketing, etc. you obviously, should be on your feet. It is always a good idea to get on your knees when your own Master enters your presence.

I also don’t do this. I don’t vocalize the sentiments that my previous place of residence was superior to my present city. This kind of talk can lead to a good cuffing or at the very least, being captured and abused. When in Treve, do what the Trevian’s do. For example, in Treve, you might see slave’s spitting in the pots of food awaiting the free. You see that this slave is not being admonished or punished in anyway and continues to get away with this detestable act. Does this mean you join in and jump over the cliff like the rest of the lemmings. This kind of insubordination spreads like wildfire. It is called anarchy. Turning a blind eye to one infraction will, down the road, leave plenty of space for other noxious practices. Maybe slaves will take up swords against the free and defy their Masters, threatening them with death.

Start practicing saying the word Master or Mistress. It is just a small contribution to stave off certain anarchy. Then practice and perfect a graceful kneel. Make it a game with yourself. Tell yourself to “mean it” when you do kneel. Don’t give one of those, “toss back your hair, utter an audible word of disgust at having to do this kneeling thing, and look up into the eyes of the free with a nauseous look and tell them in a sarcastic manner that you would be only too “happy” to comply with whatever they are asking you.” Give them a heartfelt kneel and response. Is it too awful to suggest that? You will be surprised at how much candy you will be tossed.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 153

TRAITORS, TRAITORS EVERYWHERE, AND NOT A ONE CAN THINK

Tuesday, February 18th, 2014

ferryferry

Pictures: The new ferry of Tancred’s Landing

Traitors, Traitors everywhere, and not a one can think

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr, Port Olni Warrior

Distressing as it may be, there are traitors in every city and hamlet. There are free who would sooner spit on the Home Stone than honor it. It fills everyone with disgust to think that this would be possible and if it does not fill one with disgust, then one needs to reexamine his or her priorities.
 
All warriors, companions, Masters, Mistresses, and yes, even slaves need someone who has their back. This person is one you can depend on to sit with you, back to back, and have a 180 degree view of the battle field while you cover the other 180 degrees. Then in the war called life, you are less likely to suffer a sneak attack. They would both have each other’s back, or so one would think.
 
This past week I was the personal witness and recipient to a traitor and his ugly ways. The city of my Master’s Home Stone is a paragon of good taste, beautiful ladies, exquisite slaves, (except for you Tilapia, you bitch) and brave handsome males of all castes. So it is with heavy heart that I must relate a most disgusting act by a warrior to his senior officer. If this act shook me to the core, I could see that it might make a grown man cry. My Master had the unfortunate bad luck to be captured by warriors from Sais. My Master departed Olni to help Turia against an attack from Sais. That Sais is a filthy outpost on the Vosk, a fly ridden, smelly heap of bosk dung, is really secondary to the lying thieving ways of their slaves.
 
But I digress…My Master was tied hand and foot and dragged down the unpaved streets of Sais to their jail which is little more than a pen for verr. Upon this straw covered floor he lay helpless while a couple of slaves from the city made rude comments about his manhood and robbed him of his coin purse. I have sent a scroll to the Initiate in Port Olni asking him, in the name of my Master, to send a blue flame their way. My Master was allowed to give one shout out for help and so a scribe was sent for and a scroll prepared for delivery to the warriors in Port Olni.
 
When the scroll arrived by messenger, a warrior at the gate opened it and wrote across my Master’s plea for help, “NO”. He handed the scroll back to the messenger. When my Master heard of the reply from this traitor to his caste, he was incredulous. He vowed that upon returning to Port Olni, heads were going to roll. I never want to contemplate my Master going to the City of Dust due to neglect from a brother in his caste.
 
Fortunately for my Master and me, a merchant named Hesius was at the gate and watched this whole disgraceful transaction take place. He immediately took off for the docks with his slave and sister who was visiting him at the time. He arrived in Sais a short time later, it being just down the Olni River on the Vosk. It is amazing to me how one small merchant was brave enough to face all the warriors of Sais. He had no weapon but his inventory. Makes me think of my Boss, the Rarius Yuroki, and how he can make cities bow low with just the mention of the delicacies he puts into his warehouses.
 
Well, Master Hesius Grey, cajoled the two dufus warriors who greeted him at the gate, with 2 barrels of mead and 2 of ale. They had demanded 5 slaves at first and it was fortunate that these dipsomaniacal members of their caste let a valuable warrior escape their clutches. If the sainted Ubar of Port Olni had caught wind of his capture, a protracted war with Sais would have been undertaken.
 
After this incident of the capture and release, my Master shrugged off the obscene act by a brother and was off again for escort duty for some ambassador or other from the city. I went to the commons to serve and hear the gossip. I was greeted by a persistent buzz about a warrior who had left Olni, seemingly in the dead of night, and went to Genesian Port to swear allegiance to THEIR Home Stone. This happens so infrequently in Olni, traitors spitting on the Home Stone, that free women were seen to weep while talking about this back-stabbing apostate in the commons.
 
I, on the other hand, love the idea of vengeance. I daydreamed of cutting off the head of this two-timing defector. I saw myself leading a battalion of warriors into Genesian Port, headed by the high magistrate and demanding they turn over this man who spit on the Home Stone. I felt my body shaking with righteous indignation picturing my laughter at his execution.
 
Shortly though, I was yelled at by a scribe to wake up because he wanted a hot drink. And so went my reverie. It is at times like this, I wish I was free and had money in my purse. Then there would be no question about hiring an assassin to push this ex-Olnian into the river chained to some large boulders. If I was the Ubar of a city, a silly thought really, I would deny that pond scum, access to bread, salt, and fire.
 
If I could, I would warn the good citizens of Genesian Port, of the double-crossing deceiver in their midst who most certainly will have no one’s back but his own.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 144

BLUE FLAMES SINGE THE EARS OF PORT OLNI

Wednesday, February 12th, 2014

Initiate

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr, Port Olni Warrior

BLUE FLAMES SINGE THE EARS OF PORT OLNI

Well, who da thunk it?  I was witness to a blue flaming of the ears of the good citizens of Port Olni on Friday night at the temple service.  The new Initiate, Solaran, was pounding his fists in the air, exhorting who ever would listen, to be better than they were being.   It seems the Blessed One has caught wind of a piece of calumny perpetrated in the city.  The initiate had the good graces to not reveal the name of the individual.  It seems he is more discreet than I would even be.
 
There is something delightful about naming the names of  those who have breached the boundaries of good taste.  It  can be so delicious to jeer and caste a disapproving eye at another.  There are so many times when I have felt compelled to do this.  I am guilty. And, the kiss of the whip has finally caused this habit to exit my practice.
 
Well, the Friday temple service was exciting.  I arrived about 15 ehn early to beg the Blessed One to speak louder.   I arrived to beat about the bush trying to tell our Holy man about the slaves.  The slaves, low beasts that they are, were complaining in the market place about not being able to hear the Blessed Initiate when they had to kneel so far from the door.  My entreaties got his attention and as he started the service, his voice rang out in thunderous claps.  There was a fisherman floating in a round boat near the Olni shore.  He stood in fear, looking around for a possible blue flaming.  It was kinda amusing because at the time a thunderstorm started and the rumbles and flashes of lightning matched the words from the Initiate’s mouth.
 
Barring my ridiculous observations, the content and delivery of the service was bone chilling.  There were quite a few attendees inside the temple.  Among them were the Ubara of Olni, an Ambassador, the Olni City Kennel Slavers, and three slaves.  There were others standing about the temple.   I could feel the astonishment in the air coming from inside the service.  The only thing I felt from the slaves surrounding me was the hot breath from their yawns.  To be sure, it was a cold day.  Snow was still on the ground.  One of the slaves, gratefully, lit a brazier and we huddled close to it.  These slaves may need a dressing down from their owners. But, I guess it is hard to concentrate on the Holy Ones words when your lips and fingers are turning blue. I tried to elicit some conversation but was regaled with things like, “Did you see that so and so’s Master bought her a new set of silks that cost more than the dress his companion wore to their companioning ceremony?”  And, “I cooked three suls last night for my Master’s household and all three burst into flame on the hearth.”   I nodded dumbly. 
 
The content of the Blessed One’s speech exhorted all of Olni to stop the idol gossip and bickering that was perceived to be present.  He said that the Priest-Kings know all about what goes on everywhere including Olni.  He intimated that Olni will not be permitted to stand unless we are undivided in our loyalties to the city.  The old adage, “a chain is only as strong as its weakest link”, was shouted so loudly that I’ll bet anyone in the public baths could have heard it.  And how about that other saying, “a house divided cannot stand”, a truth if there ever was one. 
 
I watched as everyone left the service, their beautiful robes glinting in the setting Tor tu Gor.  The Ubara  appeared to have tears welling in her eyes.  The slavers were uneasy, and more so since the free woman slaver was in need of a toilet.  She is nine months pregnant and her bladder could not be counted on to hold its contents for long periods.
 
The Ambassador, as he exited, turned his attention to the thrall that was kneeling with us.  He greeted him and told him to serve with heart.  At that point, I was so cold I would have preferred he serve with heat.
 
I glanced up at the Blessed One as he came out the door and exhorted us all to go in peace.  There was a wistful look on his face.  One of deep concern.  He had the look of a father whose son is being sent off into battle.  His eyes were overlaid with love, pride. and fear.  I took my leave and went to the commons area to see if there was any buzz about the service.  I have not  heard any yet, put I will certainly keep my ears open and report back any developments.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 144

The Trip – where is he going?

Saturday, February 1st, 2014

wreck

Picture: Shipwreck, near the mouth where the Olni river flows into the Vosk

by Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni

I am making preparations for a trip that my Master is to embark upon and taking me with, but I am not being told where he is going. To be sure, my Master knows, the Priest-Kings know but as I look around the city, there is no one else who knows anything more about this. On my way to the market I dropped by the docks to inquire of the captain of the ship ‘Lucy’ where his floating emporium of ripe smells would be headed in the next few days. The captain, one Philomen of Cos, looked as though he had gastric problems and did not answer my inquiry. There was a small boy, a cabin boy, who told me that they were sailing down the Olni, to the mighty Vosk and out into the waters of gleaming Thassa.

I felt panic since I am a white knuckle traveler on the shipping lanes of Gor. The hazards are myriad, from man eating sea sleen to river tharlarion. If you have never seen a free woman or man fall overboard and meet their death by one of these creatures, you haven’t lived. I would prefer that my Master hire a tarn to take us wherever he is traveling to.

Now that I knew the direction in which he was proceeding I conjectured that he might be travelling to Port Cos. It was probably going to be a long river and Thassa journey and that is why the provisions he had me buy were many and varied. I took out clean piece of rence paper and wrote down the ever growing list that my Master was insisting I purchase.

It was a little disconcerting because many of these provisions needed to be cooked which means I had to pack a large stew pot and other vessels used for steeping and baking. I have travelled before. Sometimes I have stayed at inns around Gor while accompanying the Master. This is the best way to travel. There is something to be said about staying in a four star inn and having room service. The proprietors of these inns, my Master books on travels, are very knowledgeable of the type of service my Master expects.

He is sent the best foods the area has to offer and the cutest of slave boys for me to flirt with. These Inn Keepers are not blind to MY needs in that department. While my Master is sleeping with a sumptuous repast in his tummy, I am off playing Strip Zar with the slave boys. This beats traveling to a place where I have to use someone else’s kitchen to set up shop to prepare my Master’s meals.

Now that we are travelling on a ship I will have to use the galley of the vessel and try to get my Master’s meals prepared before the ship’s cook comes in to prepare the bread, onions, and peas for the crew. I always hesitate to use the galley’s on ships my Master embarks on. The small spaces that are allocated to these floating kitchens make excellent traps where the cooks can grab me and have a go.

I must be off shopping for now and will finish telling this on going story next week.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 141

All is not quiet on the northern Front

Saturday, February 1st, 2014

Tancred's Landing

Picture: The new headquarters of the NEW VOICE OF GOR, Tancred’s Landing

by Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni

This week I felt compelled to pen this observation. I will not reveal the name of my source. I will not reveal any information even close to sounding like a name. And, it is my fervent hope that the people who recognize themselves, in this story, take heed. They will be secure in the fact that I will never expose them. For in the end, we all eventually expose ourselves.

I must say that I always have a case of “the nerves” when I am needed for serving in the commons. It is not that I dislike serving, for I am commanded to serve all free by my Master, a most generous and kind Master. The fear of displeasing my Master though, by displeasing a free person is not a situation I care to experience. This guilt by proxy is unnerving to say the least. My Master’s sense of justice is swift and fueled only by his certain knowledge that a transgression has taken place. He is none to kind with the use of the lash at this point. So, on the whole, I would say, I will not, under any circumstances, cause a constipated look on my Master’s face. He will only have relief of his constipation when he beats the shit outta ME.

Well, that is neither here nor there. The fact is, there are many things I love about serving. One is the view you are afforded. It is a view that most never experience inside the city. Where else can you see the latest styles as worn by the free women and the new weapons purchased from the metal workshops around Gor.

If I may digress for a moment, it is inherent in me to ogle the swords and bows that men carry. I am spellbound by tales of weapons, combat and war. There are certain reasons for this but that is another story.

But, then again, I am just as fascinated by the rich materials that the beautiful free women use to adorn themselves. The fabrics and decoration are just as mesmerizing as the sharpened steel blades.

The commons is also a place where there is food cooking, fruits on display, casks of strong drink and bottles of sweet Turian wine. And, the prime mover for serving in the commons, the proximity to cake. It is here also, that a variety of Gorean life parades in an ever changing tableau of dialects, colors, customs, and personalities.

Everyone who is anyone comes through the gates of Port Olni. Only the riff raff, for example, Trevian raiders on tarns, fly down from the walls.

So the gates being in front of the commons offers you a changing view of Goreans in various modes of undress.

The commons is the hub of any city. Visitors bring news of other neighboring and faraway places they have traveled to. It is also an amusing place where the free and slave gossip and flirt. These stories make ripe telling when a Master is bored and commands you to entertain him.

I always strive to please the free. It is actually a win win situation. I please them, they feed me. Sometimes I get candy and cream cakes.

Now because the commons is the heart of the city and the cross roads of the town, it is fitting for this important place to have an air of quiet and professional dignity. Craftsmen, even now, are drawing up new plans for the transformation of this port city. I am told that broad plaza’s of stone and tile will be set down shortly.

I believe the architectural firm of Buildem and Pray has been engaged once more to edit and reedit the city’s monuments. They may be having problems choosing which edifices, built by past architects who have “bit the City of Dust”, to eradicate from the skyline.

It was within such a scene that I overheard the most flagrant disruption of the space time continuum as ever there was.

A merchant who does business trading in the northern forests was elaborating about his recent encounter with a panther tribe. He has done commerce with this tribe on his trade route and makes it into their lands about every six months. There is no wonder that he is not captured and made a thrall but his rotundity makes him ill equipped for waiting on a panther hand and foot.

The merchant was giving a warning to all present and even asked to have an audience with the Ubar and the Commander of Port Olni. He wanted one and all to hear of a warning he brought back from the north. It seems this panther tribe he deals with has gone rogue. Their members have become true man-haters. This misandry was spreading like a disease through the tribe. Former panthers who were mainly interested in honing their hunting skills and capturing hapless males who wandered past their borders, were now crying for blood. They were planning a full scale attack on a large city on the Olni River. Their plan was to kill as many men as they could and then capture the free women and slaves. Only the Priest-Kings would know what could ensue then.

As ludicrous as this sounds coming from the Falstaffian merchant, the man was unnerved enough to quaff his libation with a shaking hand. He told of a horrific scene he witnessed when two free persons were brought into the panther camp. The captured free man was assaulted by derision and stripped naked. His companion was tied and made to watch the disgusting display of misanthropic vengeance. After much abuse and punches to his genitalia, the man’s throat was cut. His companion looked on helpless. Her wails were heard all through the forest. The merchant, not having weapons or the authority to stop this, fled the scene.

It seems that there were just a few rotten apples in this panther camp that were causing the psyches of the others to whither and rot as theirs had. The merchant stopped in Olni to entreat the administration to send warriors and a magistrate to put down this dangerous uprising. He was begging anyone who would listen to help him arm himself and put together a battalion of free men and warriors to bring the murderous women to justice.

I was chilled to my core after hearing this and sat closer to a brazier to warm myself. When most of the commons cleared out except for a warrior and a slave who were feeling each other up in a corner, I ran home and waited for my Master’s return.

When the door opened I set about helping him remove his gear and when he was relaxed I related the story of the merchant in the commons. I could see the anger in his eyes. He told me if it was a true story, the warriors of Olni would wipe that tribe off the face of Gor. After saying this he put his heavy cloak on and took off for the Ubar’s office in the admin cylinder.

I smiled because I could feel safe in the knowledge that retribution would be swift. To sum it up for the poor panther’s who brought this on, “payback’s a bitch.”

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 140

Ask Teal – Dubious Advice to Goreans

Saturday, February 1st, 2014

Tancred's Landing

Picture: New Tancred’s Landing

by Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni

DEAR TEAL:
I am a slave who has committed a blunder and I need to know how to come out of it smelling like a rose. It concerns my Master’s signet ring. This ring was passed down from his Great Grandfather, to his son, my Master’s grandfather and subsequently to my Master’s father, who, at one point in his life was held captive in Port Kar. He knew that if his captors in Port Kar found the ring, it would have been confiscated and melted down. The way his Father looked at it, this ring was his son’s birthright. He’d be damned if any pirates were gonna put their greasy hands on his boy’s birthright, so he hid it, in the one place he knew he could hide something: his ass. Five long years, he wore this signet ring up his ass. Then, before he died, he gave the signet ring to my Master.

I was playing with this ring and dropped it. An urt ran out and picked it up in its teeth and off he ran to I know not where. Help me.

DEAR CLUMSY OAF:
Your whole question smacks of another time and place. I am recalling a movie I saw on earth that had a segment in it that gave a similar recounting. It matters not that you know what a movie is, but just take it from me….this will not be easy to solve without using a grand set of prevarications.

When you think about it, the urt could have jumped up on the table and taken the ring just on principle. Since for every warm body on Gor, there exists at least two urts, the possibility of having an urt problem in one’s abode is very real. Your urts are rather bold to surface in the light of day.

What I am going to give you is a series of plausible lies that can be used to cover your own rear end. Yes, yes, I know that slaves should never lie and this one will not quite be a lie. You will just have to leave out the part of the story that set you in the middle and close the gaps.

How about you start crying profusely when your Master returns, telling him you were cleaning when an urt jumped up on the desk and ran off with the signet ring. This first scenario totally absolves you from blame and your Master’s wrath will be turned against the filthy, furry thief.

My second scenario includes you taking the ring to the local gemstone dealer for a good cleaning. This will give you time to set up traps inside and outside the house to try and catch the obnoxious creature. Of course, you have no ring to take to the jeweler so you will have to concoct a story of believable magnitude to prevent him from going off to the jeweler to reclaim his precious piece.

But let’s get back to the trapping of the disgusting filth that absconded with the ring in the first place. If you tell your Master and urt ate it or that you took it to the jeweler, it does not matter since either way you can still put out traps everywhere in the house further implicating the urt and covering your proverbial ass.

I would use as bait that smelly comestible known as bosk milk cheese. Urts are crazy about it and no doubt the ring itself was perceived to be a smelly treat by the urt since Master’s are not given to frequent hand washing. Hence their hands smell like moldy cheese. Once you catch the vermin, you will know what to do, namely deprive it of the life it almost cost you. The ring should be inside its intestines as I don’t think an urt’s anal opening is big enough to pass a ring of that size. It might be shrewd of you to enlist the help of another slave. Just make sure the other does not know of your ruse since they would be punished for your transgression also.

Good luck with the ring. If you find it, ask your Master to keep it firmly wedged in between his buttocks for safekeeping. Except if he is captured in Treve, the ring will definitely be discovered straightway.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 139