Archive for the ‘Voice of Gor’ Category

The last day of Ianda on the isle of Landa

Saturday, July 20th, 2019

last day of Ianda

Written on the ship “Phaedra” near the shores of Kargash…

On the second day of the fourth week of En’Var – The First Resting – my free companion drew my attention to the fact that a cloud of unusual size and shape had made its appearance. I had been out in the sun, followed by a cold bath, and after a light meal I was lying down and reading. Yet I called for my sandals, and climbed up to a spot from which I could command a good view of the curious phenomenon.

Those who were looking at the cloud from some distance could not make out from which mountain it was rising – it was afterwards discovered to have been Mount Callera on the northern part of the isle of Landa – but in likeness and form it more closely resembled a tree of a swamp forest than anything else, for what corresponded to the trunk was of great length and height, and then spread out into a number of branches, the reason being, I imagine, that while the vapour was fresh, the cloud was borne upwards, but when the vapour became wasted, it lost its motion, or even became dissipated by its own weight, and spread out laterally. At times it looked white, and at other times dirty and spotted, according to the quantity of earth and cinders that were shot up.

To our Physician and to our Commander Marcus Attilius Flamma the phenomenon appeared one of great importance, which deserved a closer study. Marcus ordered a galley to be got ready, and offered to take me with him, if I desired to accompany him, but I replied that I preferred to go on with my paperwork. Oisin, the Physician of Ianda, and the commander were just leaving the house when the Physician received a written message from lady Dezire, the free woman and scribe of Ianda, who was terrified at the peril threatening her – for her villa lay just beneath the mountain, and there were no means of escape save by shipboard – begging him to save her from her perilous position. So they changed their plans, and carried out with the greatest fortitude the task, which they had started as a scholarly inquiry.

last day of Ianda

They had the galleys launched and went on board, in the hope of succouring, not only the free woman but many other citizens of Port Ianda, for there were a number of people living along the shore owing to its delightful situation. They hastened, therefore, towards the place whence others were fleeing, and steering a direct course, kept the helm straight for the point of danger, so utterly devoid of fear that every movement of the looming portent and every change in its appearance he described and had noted down by a scribe, as soon as their eyes detected it. Already ashes were beginning to fall upon the ships, hotter and in thicker showers as they approached more nearly, with pumice-stones and black flints, charred and cracked by the heat of the flames, while their way was barred by the sudden shoaling of the sea bottom and the litter of the mountain on the shore. They hesitated for a moment whether to turn back, and then, when the Physician warned to do so,

Marcus Attilius Flamma exclaimed, “Fortune favours the bold; try to reach Rarius Yuroki”. The latter was at Port Ianda, separated by the whole width of the bay, for the sea there pours in upon a gently rounded and curving shore. Although the danger was not yet close upon them, it was none the less clearly seen, and it travelled quickly as it came nearer, so all citizens had got their baggage together on shipboard, and had determined upon flight, and was waiting for the wind which was blowing on shore to fall. The commander and the Physician sailed in with the wind fair behind them and embraced the captain of the ship who was in a state of fright, comforting and cheering him at the same time. Then in order to calm his friend’s fears by showing how composed he was himself, Marcus ordered the slaves to carry him to the bath, and, after his ablutions, he sat down and had dinner in the best of spirits, or with that assumption of good spirits which is quite as remarkable as the reality.

In the meantime broad sheets of flame, which rose high in the air, were breaking out in a number of places on Mount Callera and lighting up the sky, and the glare and brightness seemed all the more striking owing to the darkness of the night. Marcus Attilius Flamma kept declaring that the country people in their terror had left their fires burning, and that the conflagration they saw arose from the blazing and empty villas. Then he betook himself to rest and enjoyed a very deep sleep, for his breathing, which, owing to his bulk, was rather heavy and loud, was heard by those who were waiting at the door of his chamber. But by this time the courtyard leading to the room he occupied was so full of ashes and pumice-stones mingled together, and covered to such a depth, that if he had delayed any longer in the bedchamber there would have been no means of escape. So Marcus was aroused, and came out and joined the rest who had been keeping watch. They held a consultation whether they should remain indoors or wander forth in the open; for the buildings were beginning to shake with the repeated and intensely severe shocks of earthquake, and seemed to be rocking to and fro as though they had been torn from their foundations. Outside again there was danger to be apprehended from the pumice-stones, though these were light and nearly burnt through, and thus, after weighing the two perils, the latter course was determined upon.

last day of ianda

They placed pillows on their heads and secured them with cloths, as a precaution against the falling bodies. Elsewhere the day had dawned by this time, but there it was still night, and the darkness was blacker and thicker than any ordinary night. This, however, they relieved as best they could by a number of torches and other kinds of lights. They decided to make their way to the shore, and to see from the nearest point whether the sea would enable them to put out, but it was still running high and contrary.

Then the flames, and the smell of sulphur which gave warning of them, scattered the others in flight and roused them. When daylight returned – two days after the last day I had seen, all citizens including the commander, lady Dezire, the physician, lady Lilly, my free companion and myself and others had reached the shores of Kargash.

Ianda was no more. The homestone was safe.

Published in the VOICE OF GOR, seventh volume (year), issue No. 323, Fifth day of the Fourth Passage Hand of the Month of En’Var (The First Resting) of the year 10170 Contasta Ar (07-18-2019 barbarian calendar]

Pictures mady by a citizen of Ianda who painted them out of memory.

Voice of Gor issue 312

Friday, November 9th, 2018

Voice of Gor

Voice of Gor v.5 issue 312 (pdf, short online version, complete only inworld)


# The VOICE OF GOR is an almost weekly Gorean newspaper since 2010.

Forerunners were the “Vonda Voice” (since 03-26-2009, issues 1-56, editor Verona Lorgsval), the “Voice of Gor” (since 07-14-2010, issues 1-133, editor Verona Lorgsval), the Ianda Times (since 2011, issues 1-71, editor Rarius Yuroki [Yuroki Uriza]). The VOICE OF GOR will be published periodically from October 2018.



This newspaper is available IN CHARACTER at message boards in several cities. But it has OOC parts and IC parts which can be identified although many people mix both. We try to keep the two separate. But if you start a storyline based on an IC article of the VOICE OF GOR it would be useful for a moderator to have a log where you have read the message ICly.

The VOICE OF GOR can be true or false, propaganda or journalism like on earth. There is no freedom of the press on Gor. Why let the truth get in the way of a good story?!

“Goreans were not always fooled by posts on boards.
Those who control the public boards, it is said, control the city.
But I was not sure of this.
Goreans are not stupid.
It is difficult to fool them more than once. They tend to remember.”
(Magicians of Gor)

Why is “publicare et propagare” the motto of the VOICE OF GOR?

You all know that Goreans use message boards to spread news, announcements and gossip. Such are found at various points in Ar, such as the vicinity of squares and plazas, near markets, and on major streets and avenues.

Books are rare on Gor and expensive. Paper is the essential trade good of the Rencers and they sell their wares on both the eastern and western edges of the Delta of the Vosk river. The VOICE OF GOR is a collection of rence paper scrolls but the editor paid some message boards too to spread the newspaper. Gorean Public Boards sometimes made people angry. Those who control the public boards, it is said, control the city.

We took our motto from the Acta Diurna [latin: Daily Acts sometimes translated as Daily Public Records] on earth. The Acta Diurna were daily official notices in ancient Rome, a sort of daily gazette. They were carved on stone or metal and presented in message boards in public places like the Forum of Rome.

Acta Diurna introduced the expression “publicare et propagare”, which means “make public and propagate”. This expression was set in the end of the texts and proclaimed a release to both Roman citizens and non-citizens.

# THE VOICE OF GOR is available:

for members of the group Cartographers and Explorers of Gor secondlife:///app/group/7e73816d-8532-5954-3cdc-7567d36f43c6/about
for members of the group Voice of Gor Subscription Group secondlife:///app/group/86d6d293-72ac-83ca-b05b-34429f85848a/about
for members of the group Alliance of Valkyrie Panthers secondlife:///app/group/e5b743e6-3cc4-c119-6fb1-bffd676a3647/about

Available in character:
Ianda on the Isle of Landa (docks)

Available OOC:
Gorean campus (Library)



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


Tuesday, November 18th, 2014


The House of Yuroki Caravan approaching the Oasis of Klima

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

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.

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


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


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.

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.

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?

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.

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


Saturday, November 1st, 2014


For those who don’t know here is a brief history of the Newspapers having used the name known throughout the lands as “VOICE OF GOR”. This Newspaper began it’s life as The Vonda Voice and was some time later renamed the VOICE OF GOR.

In 2009 after the fall of Vonda it moved it’s offices to the City of Olni and published it’s last issue (132) in 2012.

In contrast the NEW VOICE OF GOR formally known as the Landa Times (2011) began life after volume two, issue 72 of the “Times” and has since moved it’s offices to Tancred’s Landing.

And so comes a new era as the NEW VOICE OF GOR takes the original title “VOICE OF GOR”. The VOICE OF GOR continues to bring you the latest Gor-wide news, articles and writings gathered by our writers or sent to our offices.

Caprus Scarian, staff and scribe of the VOICE OF GOR

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