The Voice of Gor

In the weeks that followed, the expedition did not limit itself to Nara alone. Guided by local pilots and charts newly amended with careful notes, the Lysander also sailed on to the neighboring islands of Kamura and Daphna, each different in custom and opportunity.

On Kamura, the visit was brief but cordial, marked by cautious exchanges and the promise of future contact. It was on Daphna, however, that events took a sharper and more memorable turn. The island was larger and more densely settled, its harbor watched over by the residence of its Shogun, a man known for his keen mind and firm rule. There, the members of the Southern Trade Alliance found themselves engaged in serious and promising trade discussions, speaking of routes, tariffs, and rare goods that might one day flow regularly across the Thassa.

The calm was broken one night by violence.

A group of rebels, their motives unclear but their intent unmistakable, launched an attack on the Shogun’s residence. Steel rang in the torchlight, and shouts echoed through the courtyards. Guards responded swiftly, and after a brief but fierce clash, the attackers were driven off or captured. The Shogun’s authority held—but not without cost.

One person was badly wounded in the fighting, struck deeply enough that death seemed close. There was no time to summon help from afar. Sabayna, the free companion of Rarius Yuroki, stepped forward without hesitation. Trained as a physician, she ordered water boiled, instruments cleaned, and space cleared. By lamplight, she performed an emergency operation, working with calm precision while soldiers stood watch at the doors.

The wounded survived.

In the days that followed, Sabayna’s skill drew attention not only for saving a life, but for her knowledge of healing arts. Daphna, it soon became clear, was rich in rare herbs and medicinal plants, many unknown or scarcely studied on the mainland of Gor. After careful thought, the physician made a decision: she would remain in Daphna until spring, to study these plants and expand her understanding of their uses.

The Shogun himself granted his approval—and more than that. He formally promised her protection, assigning guards and offering access to lands and gardens normally closed to outsiders. It was both gratitude and recognition of her value.

Thus, while ships and merchants prepared to sail on, a different kind of journey began—one of knowledge rather than trade. And on the island of Daphna, amid winter winds and quiet gardens, the bonds between strangers grew deeper, forged not only by commerce, but by courage, healing, and trust.

As winter tightened its grip on the Pani Islands, the time came to depart. The Lysander was the last ship able to leave before the season closed the seas with ice, storms, and treacherous winds. Her hull sat low in the water, fully laden with exotic trade goods—barrels of sake from Nara, rare items from Kamura, and carefully packed wares acquired through hard-won agreements in Daphna.

Farewells were spoken quietly. Sabayna remained behind under the Shogun’s protection, her work only beginning, while the rest of the expedition returned to the sea. With sails raised and anchors drawn, the Lysander slipped from the harbor and turned westward, setting her course for Selnar.

The Thassa, so cruel on the outward journey, showed a gentler face on the return. The winds were favorable, steady and strong, filling the sails and driving the ship onward day and night. The crew moved with renewed confidence, the weight of successful trade and survival lifting their spirits. Snow faded behind them, replaced by clearer skies and the familiar rhythm of open water.

Then, in the early light of dawn, a cry rose once more from the lookout—not of danger, but of home.

“Land ahead!”

Out of the pale morning mist, the coast of Cos appeared, dark and solid against the glowing horizon. Cliffs and shoreline took shape as the sun began to rise, painting the sea in bands of gold and blue. Men gathered at the rail in silence, many smiling, some whispering thanks to the winds and to the gods of Gor.

The long circle was nearly complete. From Selnar to the Pani Islands and back again, across storm, fog, snow, and steel, the Lysander had endured. Now, with Cos before her and Selnar close beyond, she carried not only cargo – but proof that the Thassa could be crossed, and that new paths of trade and alliance had truly been opened.

Ganima and Sabyna also contributed photos.

At dawn, two ships slipped from the harbor of Selnar and set their prows westward onto the Thassa, the vast and treacherous ocean of Gor. One was the Lysander, a heavy-bellied merchant vessel of the Southern Trade Alliance, its sails dyed deep brown; the other the Mjollner, a lean merchant ship, oars resting like folded wings along its sides. Though built for different purposes, the ships sailed together, bound by necessity and the uneasy trust of the Thassa.

By midday the wind freshened, snapping the sails and driving them forward across dark, rolling water. The sea smelled of salt and distance. Far from land, the Thassa revealed its first trial: a sudden storm rising as if summoned by unseen hands. Black clouds devoured the sky, and waves like moving hills crashed against the hulls. Men shouted, ropes burned hands, and the warship’s oars were pulled in lest they be torn away. For long hours the ships fought the storm, each moment balanced between survival and ruin.

When the storm finally broke, it left behind an unnatural silence – and fog. A pale, suffocating mist crept across the water, swallowing mast and sail until each ship was little more than a ghost to the other. Bells rang to keep them from collision, their dull tones echoing strangely in the white emptiness. In the fog, sailors whispered of sea serpents and lost islands, of ships that vanished forever upon the Thassa.

At last, the sun burned through the mist, and the fog unraveled like a dream at waking. The two ships emerged battered but afloat, their crews exhausted yet alive. Side by side once more, they continued westward, knowing that on the Thassa, survival itself was a quiet victory – and that the ocean was never truly finished with those who dared to cross it.

As the long voyage wore on, the two ships Lysander and Mjollnir cut steadily through the blue-gray swells of the Thassa. Days blurred into one another, measured only by the rising and setting of the sun and the creak of timber and rope. Faces grew lean, voices quiet, hope carefully guarded.

Then, one morning, a shout rang out from high above. “Land! Land to the south!”

The cry from the lookout shattered the weary silence. Men rushed on deck, shielding their eyes against the glare. At first there was only a thin, dark line on the horizon, but it was enough. A murmur spread across both ships, growing into laughter and shouted prayers of thanks.

As if the Thassa itself confirmed the news, birds appeared—white and gray shapes wheeling out of the sky. Several settled boldly on the rigging and even on the deck of the Lysander, cocking their heads and crying sharply. Sailors smiled at the sight. On Gor, birds resting upon a ship were a sure sign: land was close.

By midday, the sea began to change color, lighter and calmer, and then the islands rose from the water like green-backed beasts. The first islands of the Pani emerged through the haze—low hills crowned with palms, rocky shores kissed by white surf. Smoke curled faintly upward from somewhere inland.

A cheer rose from the Lysander, echoed moments later by the crew of the Mjollnir. Shoulders straightened, tired hands gripped the rail with renewed strength, and fear loosened its hold. The Thassa had tested them with storm and fog, but now it yielded its reward.

With the Pani Islands ahead and land within reach, the mood aboard both ships lifted like the sails in a fair wind, and for the first time in many days, the future felt close – and kind.

By sunset, the two ships reached a small harbor on one of the islands, which the charts named Nara. The light of the dying sun painted the shoreline in gold and red, revealing a quiet bay framed by dark stone and scattered palms. No signal fires burned, and no boats came out to greet them.

Caution prevailed. The Lysander and the Mjollnir dropped anchor farther out in the bay, where the water was deep and clear. No one knew whether the islanders of Nara were friendly, hostile, or something in between. Watches were set, weapons kept close at hand, and the ships rocked gently as night settled over the harbor.

The crews spent the night aboard. Some slept in narrow cabins below deck, while others stretched out in hammocks slung between beams, swaying softly with the motion of the sea. After the long crossing of the Thassa, even uneasy rest was welcome. Beyond the hulls, the island lay silent, its dark shape rising against a sky thick with stars.

At sunrise, the world revealed itself anew – and strangely so.

The harbor was calm and beautiful in the pale morning light, the water smooth as polished stone. But the air was sharp, biting at skin and breath. To the sailors’ astonishment, snow was falling, thin white flakes drifting down upon deck and sail. Frost rimed the ropes, and the wooden planks felt cold beneath bare hands.

Men stared in disbelief. Snow upon the islands of the Thassa was rare and unsettling, a reminder that Gor did not always obey expectation. Yet the sight was oddly peaceful: white flakes settling on green hills, cold air over a gentle sea.

Wrapped in cloaks and blankets, the crews watched the island of Nara awaken, unsure what the day would bring—but keenly aware that even after landfall, the world of Gor could still surprise them.

After some debate, it was decided that they would go ashore together. Two boats were lowered, and the landing party formed carefully. The men went first, armed and alert, spreading out as they reached the beach, ey

What awaited them was not steel or arrows—but smiles.

The people of Nara emerged openly from between the houses and terraces, unarmed, curious rather than fearful. They spoke in soft voices, pointing at the ships in the bay and at the strangers who had crossed the Thassa to reach their island. Children stared wide-eyed; elders nodded politely. Warm gestures replaced tension, and slowly, hands relaxed on sword hilts.

The surprise deepened when the Shugun of Nara himself appeared. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, dressed in layered garments suited for both cold and war, a curved sword at his side. His presence carried weight—this was a ruler not unlike an Ubar of the great cities of the Gorian continent, a man accustomed to command and battle. Yet his expression was calm, even welcoming, and he greeted the leaders of the expedition with formal courtesy.

They were invited into a sturdy house near the harbor, built of dark wood and stone. Inside, the air was warm, and low braziers glowed softly. The travelers were seated on woven mats while servants moved quietly among them, pouring hot tea into simple cups. Steam rose, carrying a gentle, unfamiliar scent.

As they drank, stiffness eased from cold limbs, and words began to flow – careful at first, then more freely. Curiosity met curiosity. Stories of the Thassa, of storms and fog, were exchanged for tales of Nara and its winters by the sea.

What had begun as a wary landing ended in unexpected hospitality, and for the first time since leaving the mainland, the expedition felt not merely tolerated – but truly welcome.

Before long, the conversations turned from pleasantries to the true purpose of the voyage: trade.

The leaders of the expedition spoke of the Southern Trade Alliance, of long routes across sea and desert, and of goods carried from lands far beyond the horizon. When the chests were opened and the cargo revealed, there was a quiet stir among the people of Nara. Most impressive of all was the salt of the Tahari – coarse, white, and unmistakably real. On Gor, such salt was precious, especially beyond the great deserts where it was born.

The Shugun examined it closely, letting the crystals run through his fingers. He nodded, clearly understanding its value. In return, the people of Nara brought forward their own treasure: barrels of sake, carefully sealed, the wood darkened by age and sea air. The scent alone spoke of skill and patience, of rice and water shaped by long tradition.

The agreement was made without raised voices or drawn steel. Several barrels of sake were exchanged for the Tahari salt, each side satisfied that the balance was fair. Seals were marked, witnesses noted, and servants moved the goods with practiced care.

Warm cups were refilled as the mood in the house grew lighter. What had begun as a perilous crossing of the Thassa had led, at last, to successful commerce. The Southern Trade Alliance had opened a new door, and Nara, snow-dusted and distant, had proven itself not a threat—but a partner.

As the tea and sake were shared, it became clear to all present that this meeting was more than a single exchange of goods. It was the beginning of a route, a promise carried across the cold sea by the Lysander and the Mjollnir, and by the fragile but powerful bond of trade.

Word spreads along the docks of Selnar like sparks on dry parchment – the Southern Trade Alliance vessel, Lysander, has slipped into port under a bright Imperial sun and now rests at anchor in the harbor.

No official announcement preceded it.
No courier rode ahead.
No herald arrived to prepare the city.

The Lysander simply appeared at dawn’s first light – its sails furled in disciplined lines, its sail marked with the familiar sigil of the Southern Trade Alliance.

Merchants gradually arrived and unloaded crates and barrels destined for the Lysander at the docks.

The Lysander is so huge that it doesn’t fit into the harbor of the Ubarate of Cos and therefore had to anchor in the outer harbor where the water is deep enough. On the second day, several merchants arrived by boat to inspect the ship.

On the evening of the second day, another ship arrived, the Mjollnir, belonging to the White Tarn Mines Company. The passengers and slaves soon rowed to the Lysander, as they too wanted to travel to the Pani Islands.

The mooring fee for the ship and the fee for stacking the crates and barrels at the docks was quite high. One had to pay two silver Tarsks – as much as a warrior’s monthly wage.

Meanwhile, the ship filled with passengers who spread out over the two decks below the main deck, in the cabins and in the hammocks. A member of the black caste appeared and spread fear, but fortunately it turned out that the man had been hired to protect the HoY Company, i.e., he was under contract.

In the evening, members of the white caste, including the Initiate from Isfahan and an Initiate from Selnar, bestowed blessings for the journey and wished the expedition good luck and success.

Shortly before dusk, the passengers gathered on deck and discussed what to do, as the captain had not yet arrived. Some knew how to sail a ship, but they were unsure of the exact direction.

It was decided to hoist the sails, weigh anchor, and slowly sail towards the Pani Islands, hoping that the missing captain would be able to find a fast sailing vessel in the port of Selnar to join the expedition.

As the last rays of the sun faded, the sails unfurled, displaying the proud symbol of the Southern Trade Alliance. They sailed out past the bustling port of Selnar, hoping the weather would be favorable for the expedition.

Soon night fell and the stars shone above the Lysander. A sailor’s voice could be heard singing a song and others joined in during the chorus.

Upon the Thassa, dark and wide,
where roaring winds take hold,
we cast our fate to wave and tide,
to waters deep and cold.
The timbers groan, the sail-cloth strains,
yet still we onward steer;
for every man of Gor remains
too proud to bow to fear.

Oh Thassa blue, oh Thassa gray,
your song is fierce and free.
We brave your wrath, we dare your might,
great ancient, endless sea!

A shadow circles round our keel,
a hunter of the deep.
The deck is slick with salt and steel,
and no man dares to sleep.
The storm above begins to roar,
it tears the sky apart;
but Gorean men endure far more –
with fire in every heart.

Oh Thassa blue, oh Thassa gray,
your song is fierce and free.
We brave your wrath, we dare your might,
great ancient, endless sea!

Through shattered clouds a pale star gleams,
a guide for those who roam.
It leads us past the Thassa’s schemes
and whispers, “Sail for home.”
Yet should her call return once more,
we’ll answer without shame;
for men who voyage out from Gor
are bound to sea and flame.

Oh Thassa blue, oh Thassa gray,
we heed your timeless plea.
When next you call, we sail again –
proud sons of Gor on sea!

A large group of armed men gathered yesterday in the main square of the Oasis of Lame Kaiila. They had responded to a call to track down and capture a band of outlaws who, according to caravan leaders from the Oasis of Klima, were hiding near the Exchange Point. Or perhaps near the ruins of the Oasis of Mandara; no one knew for sure.

Those who knew the area waited warily, fearing the dangers, especially the ever-present quicksand and the difficulty of attacking the exchange point should someone happen to be entrenched there.

The expedition was ill-fated from the very beginning. Everyone had hoped that Salt Ubar would send its elite troops, the Guards of the Dunes. But that didn’t happen. They waited in vain. Consequently, there was a lack of organization and experienced military leadership. The men began to grumble in frustration. One heard disrespectful remarks like, “He’s a man who values ​​comfort more than fighting,” or “He just sits in his palace and does nothing.”

At least the ruins of the Oasis of Mandala were reached without incident, and nobody got lost.

But when we reached the enormous rocks that protect the Oasis of Klima from the sandstorms, and passed the well-known rocky outcrop, what many had feared came to pass: the outlaws had prepared and ambushed the expedition.

There was great confusion, and no one knew who was friend or foe because, of course, everyone involved was masked for protection from the sand, and no one was giving proper orders. Unfortunately, all of us were hacked down, shot, and without exception, bound.

Fortunately, it turned out that the band of outlaws had arrived at the Exchange Point purely by chance and had no idea how to get back to an oasis or where the paths were. We pointed out to them that without the help of the locals, they would have perished miserably from thirst.

Someone offered to bring the outlaws back if they simply released the majority of the prisoners. There was supposedly a tunnel system near the ruins to bypass the quicksand. This was, of course, a trick and a lie, but the outlaws fell for it.

In the labyrinth, which had already been explored several times, they managed to lead the outlaws astray. And the few who reached the surface again wandered among the dunes. All the prisoners were freed. No one knows where the outlaws are now. But one cannot be sure that they are still near the ruins, because that is the only place with water.

The men blamed Salt Ubar for his shameful neglect of the dangers posed by outlaws and the safety of the caravans.

^{A caravan of Kaiila is being prepared in the Oasis to move to the Exchange Point of the Oasis of Klima.}

Urgent: A very large group of outlaws, including women, has been seen near the ruins of the Oasis of Mandara. They appear to be heading towards the Oasis of Klima’s Exchange Point. Perhaps they are simply lost and don’t know where they are. However, they have attacked a caravan.

The caravan leaders refuse to march to Klima as long as the area remains unsafe.

The Southern Trade Alliance (STA) is currently assembling the largest possible number of armed men. We need help!

All male members of the STA who are able to carry weapons are needed!

Next march to the Oasis of Klima: November 29 (Saturday) noon SLT / 8pm GMT, 21:00 GMT+1-german time)
Start main place Oasis of Lame Kaiila

The Southern Trade Alliance (STA) is currently building a huge ship capable of crossing the Thassa Ocean and reaching the Pani Islands.

It is said that there are very interesting, valuable, and rare items to be acquired there. STA merchants believe that the Pani could use salt and other goods from South Gor. This presents good prospects for trade.

The ship “Lysander” is currently in a secret shipyard near Selnar on Cos and is being outfitted with the necessary equipment. One shipyard worker managed to paint a picture of it. They are hoping for good weather for its imminent departure.

[For more information about the roleplay plot ask Rarius Yuroki.]

The last days of Imperial Ar IV… What a pity!

A slave auction was held at the Oasis of Lame Kaiila. Up for sale were slaves who had recently been abducted from Earth—from an island called “Cuba.” The Oasis’s lecture hall was packed to capacity; some attendees even had to stand. The event was a resounding success.

(Pictures from the roleplay plot “Voyage of Aquisition Nr.25 – Abduction from CUBA”, Oasis of Lame Kaiila, Screenshots: Ganima. More to follow.)