Archive for the ‘The Slave’s Corner (by Teal Razor)’ Category

The Gorean Weather Girl

Saturday, April 30th, 2016

ASK TEAL ~ Dubious Advice to Goreans

Thursday, March 31st, 2016

ianda

Picture: Ianda on the Isle of Landa from far

ASK TEAL – Dubious Advice to Goreans

By Teal Razor
 
DEAR TEAL:
I am a free man who is in a quandary. I am now a mercenary who takes gold for hire. I try to be honest in my dealings with those who employ me. Most of the jobs I take gold for are simple tasks, like escorting free women on their travels and delivering slaves who have been purchased from afar to awaiting owners. There is also the odd war or raid here and there when I am hired as additional muscle.
 
Recently, I have been offered a contract that pays quite a bit of gold, to steal the Home Stone of a neighboring city. So far I have never undertaken such a dangerous task. I was wondering, if I am captured with the Home Stone of this other city, will I be prosecuted or will the city that asked me to steal the Home Stone be prosecuted?
 
DEAR SOON TO HAVE A PIKE SHOVED UP HIS ASS:
I think you need a physician to check you over. Do you have a fever? Hmm, if not, may I inquire as to why, after all this time of making a living on Gor, would you want to take a job where death will surely overtake you? I mean going into battle is a cakewalk compared to what can possibly turn into the greatest misadventure that you will ever experience.
 
Let us look at this logically, suppose you get captured, no, scratch that, you WILL be captured. So there you stand with the Home Stone of a city on your person. If you are lucky, the Home Stone is a pebble or a small gem. If that is the case you could quickly swallow it and wait for it to emerge from your other end in a couple of days, less if you consume a lot of fruit, grain, and water. But how would you know the size of the Home Stone? The Home Stone in my city is a very very large cut gem. You would need a bosk to haul it out on a sturdy wagon, or so I have been told. But, you would not know, until such time when you arrive at the place in which the Home Stone is displayed, what dimensions you are dealing with.
 
You would have to “case the joint” for days to determine where it lies, the size of it, how many guards block your way to it, and if the building that it resides in is locked. After careful calculations, you might be able to pull this off. I highly doubt it though. Do you have a tarn to make a quick getaway? More importantly, does the city you plan to rob have a legion of tarnsmen ready to shoot down your ass when you take flight?
 
You give me no details except the fact that you are looking at the gold coin you will earn. How many citizens live there? How many warriors are roaming the city at any one time? When you go to the city, what will be your reason for being there? (The tourist thing has really worn quite thin these days.) Do you have a fake ID or will you be using your real credentials? Will you bring help? Will you wear a disguise? These are all things to contemplate before going just for the gold.
 
Now, heed this. I say again, you WILL be caught. And as to your question who will be blamed for this operation? I have a suggestion, take out a mirror and gaze into it. Who do you see there? You are a mercenary. Any city that hires a mercenary to steal the Home Stone, or anything precious from another city, is not going to own up to some confession from a person who says, “But, your honor, the Ubarate of Fartsville made me come here and take your Home Stone.” I can guarantee you that the Ubar of Fartsville will come and help shove that pike up your rear.
 
Stick to escorting lovely free women on their shopping trips and waving your steel around in the odd war. This will be much safer than the road you are about to trod.

 
DEAR TEAL:
I am a free man, a member of the warrior’s caste. I was asked to take the commander’s position of the city I reside in. I had a mishap and was on leave. I have now come back into the city and find I am no longer respected by my brothers in arms. They all say that I do not know the city laws, that I have not recruited any warriors to serve under me, that I sit in the common area ogling the slaves and that I am looking to serve the needs of my own cock and not the city.
 
I am feeling despondent over these accusations and to top it off, one of the High Council members is seeking to kick me out of my position. How do I cope with this depressing situation?
 
DEAR NEEDING A DOSE OF REALITY:
I read your scroll three times wondering if you wrote your own question or if you had someone else write it for you? Have you read your question aloud to yourself? Let us test you on this…hold your hand up in front of your face, can you see it? Is it not plain?
 
If you are parroting back the concerns of your fellow warriors then I would say they all hold water. Warriors live by their codes. I guess you know that, or do you? A commander can only be granted power to command by his fellow caste members. If they are saying these things, guess what, you’re toast. I would say stand down, let the warriors choose a replacement that really cares about the rank and file. They think you are just goldbricking, which seems to be the case.
 
Have you read the laws of your city? Do you understand them? If you can’t read, let someone read them to you. Ask questions. Go out there and seek men who will serve the city well. Quit sitting in the common areas staring at the penis between your legs and wondering when it will see action. You appear to be a commander who has totally shirked his responsibilities. Things will not bode well for you if you do not become active and command the respect of your men once more. If a high ranking member of the High Council is gunning for you, start packing your bags.

Taken from the VOICE OF GOR v. 5, issue 255

Ask Teal – Dubious Advice to Goreans

Saturday, October 17th, 2015

VOICE OF GOR – The Slave’s Corner: What a Week!

Saturday, September 26th, 2015

THE SLAVE’S CORNER ~ A Satiric View of Life on Gor, by Teal Razor ~ slave of Siri Emerald Jr, Admin of Ianda on the island of Landa

Published in the VOICE OF GOR, fifth volume, issue No. 229, first day of the second hand of the month of Se’Kara (The Second Turning) of the year 10166 Contasta Ar

Tour of Ianda

Sunday, September 13th, 2015

WHERE DOES THE GLORIUS EMPIRE OF AR EXIST?

Tuesday, November 18th, 2014

Klima

The House of Yuroki Caravan approaching the Oasis of Klima

WHERE DOES THE GLORIUS EMPIRE OF AR EXIST? ~ 400 Years in the Future
By Teal Razor

In Port Olni, for the most part, the dwellers go about their tasks in a placid but cautious manner. Well, for the most part, except when sex starved slaves obtain a construction crew to erect an impromptu dance pit in the dead center of the commons. This was the scene last week in the commons of Port Olni.

Passersby were taken aback by this construction zone. Curiously though, the passersby did not report this behavior to a warrior, a magistrate, or the Ubarate. I speculated that those who passed by did not inform the authorities because they thought it was another project by the architectural firm, Buildem & Pray. After all it had all the earmarks of one of their construction sites; rubble, cement dust, and puddles of water everywhere.

So, no one suspected that a slave was actually the contractor. The pit, though, was fabricated so shoddily that there was a hole in the sand of the pit near the perimeter. When the slave/construction manager hopped in the pit to show a visiting physician some new moves she had learned, the hole proved to be a hindrance to her footfalls. At a couple of points in the dance she fell face first into the hole. I had never seen such a movement in any Gorean dance I had learned at the Gorean Dance Academy.

That no punishment was accorded the slave for causing this architectural flaw in the commons is the biggest puzzle of all. After the dance, the slave just walked away casually. Later a warrior saw the mess in the commons and ordered it cleared immediately. He asked around to see if he could learn who was responsible for this monstrosity of a dance pit. Funny, no one was able to identify the “perp” since no one thought a slave would do such a thing and chalked it up to the architectural firm of Buildem & Pray. No one would question THEIR doings in the commons. I think if anyone passing would have stopped to ascertain what was going on, the slave would have been apprehended quickly with a public whipping to follow.

This unquestioning of a questionable act was the forerunner of further aberrant behavior of the Citizens of Port Olni. I tried to figure out why last week, all the citizens believed that the Glorious Empire of Ar raided Port Olni.

The citizens even went so far as to claim injury and capture from the raiders who swooped down from the Glorious Empire of Ar. The peculiar thing about this raid was that it did not take place.

But, you could not reassure the citizens of this fact. The citizens brandished their swords and whacked away at invisible raiders before them.

And yet, for a raid that did not take place, the citizens thought it was real. Women hid, babies cried, alarms were sounded and the bridge raised. Warriors were seen tying themselves in binds, shouting to the thin air that they would kill the sleen from the Glorious Empire of Ar.

I came upon the aftermath of this raid to see people actually standing around discussing it. I felt like I was in a time warp because the Glorious Empire of Ar … does not exist. If it exists somewhere in the future we do not know. I mean, when was the last time a haruspex gazed into the entrails of a giani and said… “By golly, the Glorious Empire of Ar exists in the future. In fact, 400 years in the future.” No one has done this to anyone’s knowledge and yet Port Olni was deluded into thinking the Glorious Empire of Ar existed and they were in fact being raided by The Glorious Empire of Ar.

If the Glorious Empire of Ar does not exist and if by chance it will exist in the future, then in order to raid Port Olni, the raiders from that Glorious Empire would have had to use a time machine. Time machines do not exist, therefore the Glorious Empire of Ar was not in Olni.

I pondered this mass hysteria and decided to check the water supply to see if someone had infused a mind altering drug in the cisterns. I drank it, as a test, hoping I could see things that were not there. It did not happen. I was as sober as a magistrate after drinking a bota full of the stuff. I sniffed the air for some malicious gas that could be floating around. Gas has been known to cause ill effects on the sniffee’s. No gas was detected by me. Just the plain ole clean air of Port Olni.

I then had a bright idea that maybe the city had ingested Sa tarna grains contaminated with ergot. I rushed to the bakery and ate some mouthfuls of the grain hoping for a psychedelic effect. The only thing I received was a stomach ache.

This is a puzzle that one cannot solve. It did leave collateral damage in Olni with cuts, bruises, and headaches. They are still talking about it and all I can think of is…why?

southern trade alliance

Meeting of the Southern Trade Alliance – Brundisium

ASK TEAL ~ Dubious Advice to Goreans
By Teal Razor

DEAR TEAL:
I am a warrior and in my city I have noticed a steady increase in gambling. I myself like to throw an ostrakan into a basket to judge the way a game will go or not but I am not talking of this casual type of gambling. I have been seeing a more pervasive and insidious game being played where two men are drinking in the tavern. One brings out a pair of dice and tells the other…”I want to cut your head off. I want you to roll the dice and if you roll a number higher than mine, I will not cut your head off. But, if the number you roll is lower than the one I throw, you lose your head. So lets do that to pass the time.” I have seen men agree to this, the dice are thrown and inevitably a head will roll onto the tavern floor accompanied by much blood.

Three of my brother warriors were involved in such nonsense last week. One of them wound up without a right arm, which makes him useless to his caste, another had a dagger stuck in his belly and may not make it, the last was carved up like a vulo on a spit and died. This vice is spreading even to the kennels. Slaves are starting to throw dice to see who will clean up the bosk pens and they even throw the dice to find out how many lashes with a quirt that the first girl will administer.

Free women in the commons have stopped conversing so that they can roll dice on the table. They prearrange with another free woman that if they roll a higher number, that person can kill the slave of the other. If the other woman rolls higher, she gets to impale the other woman’s slave.

How can this madness go on and what can I do to stop it.

DEAR LEAVING LAS VEGAS:
Madness is an apt word for what you are experiencing. What you relate is a chilling tale of life being determined by a role of the dice. I mean what does that say for the participants, that they are at a loss for words to work out their differences, that they are so bored out of their minds that they chose not to speak but grunt to one another? I think you are right to rant about this “unspeakable” behavior. I am wondering what you really can do about this. It is a risky business to get between a person and his vice, especially of the vice of gambling.

If you think about it, you could become the object of their wrath and instead of their betting on one another, they could bet who could be next to run you through with a sword. This would be bad for your health.

I really believe that you should look for another city to make your Home Stone. Find a city where the citizens are articulate and have developed the habit of reading. It is doubtful that you will find “dice rollers” in your new city. The sound of soft chatter will be heard instead of the blood curdling screams of those who lose their limbs to a bet.

From the VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 182

SHE WHO MUST OBEY ~ Or My Life as a Warrior PART 5

Saturday, November 1st, 2014

tarnwald

Heavy rains batter the city of Tarnwald (2013)

SHE WHO MUST OBEY ~ Or My Life as a Warrior PART 5

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

I am anxious to finish up the recounting of my kidnapping from Earth and early life on Gor that I related to my Master one cool evening in En-Var. I remember that I left off in the part of the tale where the Ubar of Port Kalana, my Master at the time, went stark raving bonkers.

Well, after the Ubar left the city, a city Administrator was put in charge of dispersing the madman’s property. I knelt under his scrutiny and the sneers of his personal slave. This Admin took one look at me and said, “No one in this city will buy you, in fact, I can’t even give you away. Free citizens speak your name and spit on the ground at the same time. I see no alternative, slut, than to take you back to the city your former Master had purchased you from and see if any there will take you off my hands.” His personal slave told me in a low voice what a piece of sleen crap I was. Vengence is mine sayeth Teal.

The three of us, the Administrator, his slut, and I, journeyed back to Port Olni. Upon arriving, we went up the wide front steps, rang the visitor’s bell, and stood in front of the gates waiting for a person to open them. The hair stood up on the back of my neck when who should be there but my current Master, a warrior who I secretly could not stand the sight of. It was at this point of my story that my Master, upon hearing my assessment of his former self, told me to get the whip with which he then gave me three lashes for my impudence.

But I digress. The warrior, my present Master, asked what business the Administrator of Port Kalana had at the gates of Port Olni. The man said he was there to liquidate the property of the Ubar who fled the city in madness. He said he brought a slave that was bought from this city and had hopes to return her to it saying, “There is no one in Port Kalana who will take her in. Most of the citizen’s of the city wanted her impaled.” The warrior glanced at the slave by the side of the Administrator and began to assess her thinking she was the one who was for sale. The Administrator quickly corrected him and pointed to me. I had been kneeling in back of him, not visible to the warrior at the gates.

When the warrior got a gander at who it was, he laughed long and loud and then remarked, “I have no doubt that the citizens of Port Kalana wanted to “lynch” her. She has had to talk her way out of many a death sentence here in Port Olni.” And, with that he offered a copper for me to the Administrator. The Administrator seemed pleased that his journey was not for naught and willingly accepted the pittance from the warrior. The warrior then said, “And here is a silver for your troubles.” With that I became the slave of Captain Siri Emerald jr., Red caste, Port Olni.

He took me to his office, filled out paperwork on me for the records, and beat me till I begged him to stop. Then used me well. During my questioning, he asked me my name. I told him rather smartly that it was “Ruby Tuesday”. He smirked at me and wrote on the scroll, “Ruby”. He said, “That is your name from now on. And don’t think you own it.” I not only did not want to own the odious name, I started introducing myself as “Cadet” since it more aptly matched my former station on Earth.

This Master owned me for exactly one Gorean day before he sold me to a private slaver in the city of Port Olni who happened into the commons where we were sitting. The warrior did not really want to sell me. He saw in me a slave who would not only become totally devoted to him but also provide a foil for his personality, since I myself was of the “Warrior Caste” on Earth.

Captain Siri Emerald Jr. did not want to put up with my punching, kicking, slapping, yelling and throwing of things. His person was not subjected to this but his First Girl was. She and I had engaged in a battle royale. During the one Gorean day I was in his household, I managed to thrust my knee in her groin several times, smash her in the face with a flat pan, put her in a choke hold and force her to eat grass and bugs. I can’t say she was any less hospitable. I had the bruises to show for it. Rather than have us both kill each other, he chose to sell me and keep his first girl.

This was lucky and unlucky at the same time. Lucky for his first girl that I did not maim or kill her but rather unlucky for me. It turns out this private slaver in Port Olni had gone the way of the former Ubar of Port Kalana. He was a megalomaniac who was deep within his disease. He started trying to change me into his former slave who escaped from his clutches. In order to effect my total change he took me to dressmakers, hair salons, and doctors who could effect this transformation with surgery.

It was with luck that a warrior from Sais rented me for two weeks. He was one of those warriors who read extensively and was fond of writing Gorean verse. He encouraged me to pen sweet missives to him on rence paper which he provided to me. It was all very nice until I was accused of hiding a dagger on my person by some jealous slaves who where at the gate in Sais when he brought me into the city. The guard at the gate threatened to cut my tongue out for the offense. The charge was ridiculous really, I was totally naked at the time. When my hair was searched they found nothing. But my Master was told to whip me publically for the alleged offense and so he did. That was not pretty.

After the two weeks were up on the rental, my Master was loathe to bring me back to the demented slaver but he realized that a slave from Port Olni, living in Sais, a warring city, was not a good match. So I was back in Port Olni. It was another stroke of good luck that I caught the eye immediately of a mercenary who was residing in Olni at the time. A no nonsense fellow who came into the slaver’s office, plunked down a gold tarn, grabbed me by the hair and took me to the metalsmith to have his collar locked on me.

This free man became my “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” Master as he shoved me back to the insane slaver once more. It was back in the private slave house that I became frightened for the first time in my life on any planet. My fears became reality when this crazy house escapee choked me and left me for dead in one of the side streets of Port Olni. Thankfully I was found by a kind Master and taken to the infirmary where the marvelous physicians brought me back to life.

After the healing I went back into the city kennels, the House of Spiritweaver. Unable to speak because of the severe bruising of my larynx, I started to go into mad reveries of what I might say could I communicate. To all outward appearances, I nodded, obeyed, knelt, and served with proper deference. Underneath it all, I plotted the death of all and bringing down of the walls of Port Olni.

At around that time, Captain Siri Emerald Jr. came back into my life. He had chosen not to renew his companioning contract with his mate. It seems she had what on earth is termed “a multiple personality disorder”. He grew tired of her lies and so she left for another city and took the first girl with her. He was renting a slave himself at the time to serve his needs. This rented slave had her own mental meltdown and went off to get pregnant by another warrior. He immediately terminated her rental and sent her packing.

The Captain was sitting in the commons and lamented to me, as I served him cup after cup of black wine, how disgusted he was with trying to find a slave who could meet his needs. A small digression here as I tell you why I had to keep serving him cup after cup of his favorite libation. It seems that at the time, each serve of this black wine was not done as per his instructions. This caused him great consternation and he poured the cup of black wine over my head and made me go back to get the order right.

I think he was pleased with the stoic and rather ingratiating way I took his orders. After all, I was of the warriors caste myself. So it came about that later that day I attended a reading of the historian Master Norman’s work, by the Ubara of Port Olni. The Captain was there and proclaimed to the Ubara that he had every intention of collaring me. She looked over with a smirk and told him, “Do you know how MANY Masters she has had? Captain, I give her to you.” With that, our sainted Ubara waved her hand thusly “gifting” me to him. And that is how I came to the collar of my present Master. I hope you have been slightly entertained by this. Next week I will get back to the more serious work of offering my advice in “ASK TEAL”.

From the VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 181

ASK TEAL – Dubious Advice to Goreans

Saturday, November 1st, 2014

vulo

Island of Asperiche (2008) – Rarius Yuroki’s first vulo

ASK TEAL ~ Dubious Advice to Goreans

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

Before I conclude, hopefully, the story of how I came to Gor, I must answer some pressing questions that have been sent by scroll for Teal to answer. Also, in the last few weeks I have had numerous scrolls arriving at my Master’s house and frankly, he cannot stand the dust they are gathering. To avoid another whipping I will answer two of these scrolls so that he will see the goodwill I am extending by eliminating two more dust collecting scrolls. I will then send them on to the editor, the Rarius Yuroki, for him to deal with.

DEAR TEAL:
I am a free woman set to be companioned to a free male who at first seemed to be the man of my dreams. I have known this man since I was a little girl. We have lived in the same city all our lives. And we lived down the same lane. I thought, after all that time, since I knew his personality and intelligence, why not accept his offer of companionship. However, the ceremony has not taken place yet.

Here is what disturbs me. I have been a spectator to his performances in the melee games held in the city arena. In the last man standing bout where all of the free male competitors rush out to the sands to do battle with whomever comes their way they must have excellent stamina. Now, stamina is really how the game is won. I have seen my intended hang back against the wall, run around, not drawing his sword and wait until all the other men in the melee are defeated but one. He then charges after this last exhausted participant and downs him easily. Using this less than honorable ploy, my intended has been considered victorious in many of these melee’s as of late. I am wondering whether he will manifest this peculiar trait of a “sneak” in our companioning.

DEAR GAZER INTO A CRYSTAL BALL:
I would say that you have the gift of prophecy, a true prognosticator. By asking your question, you have already answered it. There is an expression that I will translate into the Gorean, it is, “once a sneak, always a sneak”. I know this to be true on a personal level because I too have exhibited this sneaky trait in the past. It takes a lot of hard soul searching to stop this very bad habit or it takes the five bladed whip to drive it far from you. Either way it is hard on the mind and body.

I cannot tell from which city your scroll was sent since it is ragged and stained but I think it may have come from afar. As I see it, you may not read this answer for a couple of months being that the mail moves at a snails pace on Gor. When you do finally get to read my reply, I hope that you will have made the decision that I am about to dispense, translated into Gorean, “kick the bum to the curb”.

As an aside, when I had arrived at my first city on the planet and saw actual streets of stone, I found it pretty amazing that the streets were laid out with walkways for pedestrians which leave the middle of the street for wastes, animals, and carts. So to say “kick the bum to the curb” actually has meaning on Gor. If you kick him to the curb, he might roll into the street where his garments will be soiled with human waste.

So I hope that at the time you read the Voice of Gor you will be happily looking for another prospective companion. Now, you might even look at it another way. His action in the arena could be a strategy, although a questionable one. One could be lead to believe that his sneakiness is being stealthy, but one would be wrong. It is a gimmick that requires little stamina, waiting for the exhausted last man to finish his reserves of strength and succumb to a few blows to the head. Yes, to be sure, a less than honorable move

You may have a budding career as a haruspex. You could take your show on the road to the Turian plains. You could hit up all the Tuchuk camps. I hear they give their fortune teller’s much respect. Make sure you have a shiny crystal ball though. It makes it look more legit and anyway, do you really want to slit open animals to gaze into their intestines?

DEAL TEAL:
I do not know how to address this situation that has arisen in my life. I am a free woman who is companioned to a magistrate in my city. We have had a blissful two years together. This bliss was shattered recently. He brought home three female slaves a couple of weeks ago. Prior to this I was the only one who performed all of the household duties for my companion. It was not necessary to have nosy slaves here to destroy our privacy.

Now I have three of his slaves to contend with. My problem is that I have no authority over these sluts. They argue with each other every ahn of the day. They mock me when I request something. They are the laziest beasts I have ever known. As well, I am STILL doing all the work and cleaning up after them. Either there will be a coronation of three princesses in my home or I will put a contract out on the three of them. Help me, I am going insane.

DEAR ALREADY DRIVEN INSANE:
Your plea filled me with much pity. Well, maybe empathy would be a better word. These three members of the royal family sound like they all need a severe lashing. I realize that your companion has not given you dominion over his animals. This is a tricky situation. I have witnessed being acquired into a household with one slave in its pen. When I entered this Master’s abode, the slave sneered at me as I was offered a mat by the hearth to sleep on while she had her own room to sleep in. We battled over the choice of foods to give the Master, where and upon what he would eat his meal and the question of “have you ever eaten bark off of a tree.

During this encounter with the sneering slave, she slapped me so I applied my knee to her groin. That started a Battle of Bitches. We slapped, punched, screamed, kicked, bit, and cursed each other. The Master was in his room planning out some new hearth for his kitchen remodel. He would shout down, half heartedly, every once in a while. His admonition was to, “Stop the Priest-King awful racket down there.” Of course we did not stop until I got her in a choke hold. I could feel the adrenalin coursing through my veins. I was getting high with the feeling that I could end her life right now.

Instead, I made her vow to sit down and talk to me “mano y mano” after the Master had eaten his dinner off of my back while I was put down on all fours in front of him. We spent the rest of the evening, talking it out. As I talked to her I realized that she was an illiterate female slave who did not consider anything to be fun. She could express herself only in fits and starts of poor Gorean. After awhile I found myself dozing off to the sound of her voice which was as pleasant as the squawks of a vulo about to be butchered.

The evening ended with me begging the Master to sell me to the highest bidder so he would make some coin on me. He knew that I was unhappy. Next morning he sold me to a slaver. It was best that the sale happened. If I had been in that Master’s house one more day, his first girl would be lying in a pool of blood.

I say this because the idea to “off” all three of them could put you in peril. I do like the idea of hiring an assassin to clean house for you. Make sure you find your assassin in another city as there is less likelihood your secret would leak out. I certainly wanted to murder the first girl of that Master and if I had the coin and the clout, I would have hired an assassin to cut her head off. So I sit in no judgment.

You could try this, leave the house in the morning and do not return until your companion does. You both meet at the door of your house and enter. You will both be greeted by a filthy house and squabbling slaves. It won’t take but a few days for your companion to see the error of his purchase and sell the sluts to the city kennel.

I hear that Port Kar is lovely this time of year. Maybe you and your companion can travel to this slave auction destination and make a holiday out of it.

From the VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 180

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

SHE WHO MUST OBEY ~ Or My Life as a Warrior PART 4

Saturday, November 1st, 2014

Island of anango

Picture: Island of Anango

SHE WHO MUST OBEY ~ Or My Life as a Warrior PART 4

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni
 
My chronicle of abduction, collaring, branding, and subsequent ownership by various free males caused me to relive some very sad moments in my life on the planet Gor. As I repeated aloud these unwanted adventures to my Master, it evinced the strong feelings I had while suffering through them. But, to use an old Earth expression, I soldiered on. This story only took me a night to reveal to my Master but writing about it has taken longer. I apologize to readers of The Voice of Gor for such lengthy explanations.
 
I left off with the Master most called, “the roaming dude”. The first day that I misbehaved in the commons he had me in a headlock underneath the table. It kinda looked like I was performing fellatio out in public but it was not anything like that. My head was in a vise grip under his legs and feet. When the free women left the table, Master Dude dragged me to the jails and beat me senseless. I refused to make a whimper which proved how stubborn I was. All I wanted was to be given back my weapons so I could clear this place of these backward and ignorant people whom I considered “the enemy”.
 
After the beating, this Master took me to the outskirts of a city called the Oasis of Seraphina. There he had pitched a tent outside the city’s high protective walls. It was a nice place really. The tent was laid out beside a watering hole containing palm type trees. I am constantly amazed when I look at houses, villages, towns and great cities on Gor. They all look like a set designer had thought them into being. It was that way with the tent. I inhabited that tent for 3 days, on and off. I grew to love it and felt very rich being there. The sand was covered with priceless handmade carpets and the colorful tent that was erected above them was brilliant against the beige sands of the oasis.
 
Well the “Dude” took off. I then started to worry about what would happen to me. I decided that I would go up into the Oasis of Seraphina, the entrance of which was at the top of a long flight of stairs. At the wooden gate I was faced with some forbidding guards. They let me through with some minimal questioning. While walking through the streets, I met the Pasha of the Oasis. I asked him if I could perform some service to him, and in exchange I would be permitted to live in the tent at the foot of the high walls.
 
I am just chomping at the bit to digress here. I was inside a city that was built with the sole purpose of letting people be what they wanted. Free women would come to this city to shed their “robes” and run around naked performing slave “duties”. You never saw the reverse there. By that I mean, slave’s going to the oasis to experience being a free woman. Also, free women and men, who were not companioned, met in clandestine trysts. The free woman, who was companioned to another, would make herself a naked slave just to experience the lust she had wanted with her actual companion but could not attain. It was a city of love, that is for sure. So you see asking the Pasha if I could perform some service could have bought me a place on his streets, accommodating any and all as a coin slut.
 
Gratefully, that was not the case. He told me I could live there as long as I needed. In exchange he wanted me to look after three of his prize desert kaiila. I accepted the position warily. I prayed that I would be able to provide them food, water, and happiness every day so that they would maintain their health. I took to sleeping next to them almost every night. I believe they liked it when I told them stories of my home planet. To be sure I had to bathe every morning.
 
I did this for about a month or so, when one day, during a sandstorm, a Master burst into my tent wielding a scimitar in his sword hand. I had tied the tent flaps down to keep the sand out which prevented him from seeing anyone who might be inside the tent. He jumped blind into a situation that could cause his demise. When he saw me he relaxed and sheathed his weapon. He saw I was a slave sans a Master and so collared me on the spot.
 
I continued to live in the tent with my new Master, Master Ubik, at the foot of the high walls. After only 4 days, he left, telling me he had to take a caravan on a trade route. He never came back.

I decided to go ask the Pasha if he would sell me in the slave market. I really wanted a stable situation. He took me to his slave house and had the auctioneer take bids from the gathered citizens. I was sold for a pittance to a warrior from Port Olni who was at the Oasis to be with his female companion. It was later discovered that she was having all kinds of relations with free men up and down the Vosk. She went by many names but her identification scrolls all contained similar elements.
 
And so the free man from Port Olni, who name rhymes with Dum-Dum, took me back to the city I came from just a few months before. Master DD was quite a few years older than me. I mean quite. He was constantly in the commons dozing off in between sips of ale. He conversed with hardly a person. One day the Ubara of Olni ordered some guards to take my Master back to his couch since she was sure he had either lapsed into a coma or died.
 
It was quite an embarrassment to me which quickly turned into a massive case of boredom. I was forced to sit by the couch of my Master while he was deep in the throes of a pre-dementia stupor. I was glad when the Ubar of Port Kalana spied me at a sword tournament in Sais. He came over and asked my Master, Dunce-Dunce, if he could “borrow” me for a while but instead I was actually sold to him. I was taken to Port Kalana. Thirty-two hours later, the Ubar went absolutely berserk. He departed the city and left a scroll containing all the grievances he felt were nagging him. The angry citizens, converged on the Ubar’s palace and found me practicing in the armory with a Gladius . I was tied up immediately, taken to the jail and questioned for hours. I gave only my name rank and serial number, which they did not understand. They wanted to know what I had “done” to the Ubar and how I had driven him to the point of madness. I pointed out, not to my benefit, that the Ubar was insane to begin with.
 
I thought I was going to be able to finish my tale to my Master in this column but alas it is not to be. My memory is being flooded with details of my exploits and I feel impelled to note them down.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 178