Archive for the ‘Voice of Gor’ Category
SHOCK SYMPTOMS AND THE UNKNOWN RED FISH
Tuesday, April 29th, 2014
Tancred’s Landing
by Rarius Yuroki, editor of the NEW VOICE OF GOR
As I was sorting through the scrolls which threatened to crash my desk, I heard the bell ringing. I stopped and walked to the balcony to see what was happening. Thick fog hovered over the dock and as I strained my eyes to peer through it I saw the messenger arrived from Olni delivering the scrolls written by that slave Teal, our correspondent in Olni.
But this time something was strange. When I enfolded the scrolls I could not even read some letters, they were scrawly and badly written. I found unknown words from an unknown language too as if the writer was suffering from a mental illness. This slave Teal who is the property of Siri Emerald Jr., a Captain of Olni Scarlet’s, is well known for her writing skills and elegant style. Something must have happened.
As I was in a hurry I did not read everything, but sent out a bunch of scrolls of the NEW VOICE OF GOR to be put on the message boards in the Village of Abydos, in the city port of Olni, in Tharna, in New Tancred’s Landing, in the library of Tampica Woods, in the city of Victoria, in the city of Vonda and in the Port of Alsium.
When I had the time I started to read the column “The Slave’s Corner” and was horrified: The slave was insulting the fine city of Vonda, described their honorable citizens as jerks and ended with “delenda est Vonda”. The NEW VOICE OF GOR apologies for that. That should never had happened.
I shook my head considering to send a mind healer (1) to examine that slave and interrogated the messenger to find out more about the circumstances. He told me: The slave Teal and her owner Siri were laying on the ferry between Olni and Vonda (2), showing all symptoms of a shock: rapid, shallow breathing, clammy skin, weak pulse, their eyes appeared to stare, bluish lips and fingernails. The slave did not response at all, her throat was cut somehow and full of blood, but she was still breathing. The warrior was rolling his eyes and stammering that he has killed several free women in Vonda.
The messenger had found the scrolls which were intended for the newspaper and a basket which seemed to belong to a tavern of Vonda. Inside this basket there were three fish which looked like Cosian Wing Fish (3). This Wing Fish a tiny blue salt-water fish with four poisonous spines on its dorsal fin; found in the waters off Port Kar; its liver is considered a delicacy in Turia. We all know that parts of the Cosian Wing Fish are poisonous. But the Wing Fish inside the basket were red, not blue.
The unknown red wingfish in the infirmary of Tancred’s Landing
The strange fish has been taken to the infirmary of Tancred’s Landing for further examinations. A messenger was send out to inform the famous physician Zinkan who lives near Laura. Zinkan came to Tancred’s Landing. The NEW VOICE OF GOR made an interview with him about the results of his examination of the fish. (see above)
(1) He was Iskander, said once to have been of Turia, the master of many medicines and one reputed to be knowledgeable in certain intricacies of the mind. (Slave Girl of Gor)
(2) Vonda was one of the four cities of the Salerian Confederation. The other cities of this confederation were Ti, Port Olni and Lara. All four of these cities lie on the Olni River, which is a tributary to the Vosk. (Fighting Slave of Gor)
(3) Near her, one night, lying off her shore, silently, I heard the mating whistles of the tiny, lovely Cosian wingfish. This is a small, delicate fish; it has three or four slender spines in its dorsal fin, which are poisonous. It is called the wingfish because it can, on its stiff pectoral fins, for short distances, glide through the air, usually in an attempt to flee small sea tharlarion, who are immune to the poison of the spines. It is also called a songfish, because, in their courtship rituals, males and females thrust their heads from the water, uttering a kind of whistle. Their livers are regarded as a delicacy.
(Raiders of Gor)
From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 156
ASK TEAL – Dubious advice to Goreans
Tuesday, April 8th, 2014
Pictures: Docks of the city of Olni – Saleria
ASK TEAL ~ Dubious advice to Goreans
By Teal Razor
By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni Warrior
DEAR TEAL:
Here is my problem. I have a fast approaching pre-arranged companioning with one of the my caste; the caste of warriors. I recently witnessed him denouncing his superior and refusing to defend his Home Stone while the city was under attack. His actions have chilled me to the bone. I want to escape the coming ceremony that I have no control over. It seems my mother and father are adamant that this one is a “keeper” and have elaborate plans costing a sack of gold tarns which my family can ill afford to spend. It might ruin my family. Do you have a suggestion?
DEAR LOOKING FOR THE BACK DOOR OUT:
Let us delve into your dilemma. I perceive that you are a free woman since you mentioned an upcoming companioning ceremony and that you are of the honorable warrior’s caste. So I am certain you know the codes as any honorable Gorean and would be distraught at someone defecating on them. I can say, as a slave, I would not want a traitor to darken my doorstep and I cast a dim view on the outcome of this event. The worse that can happen is that you will need to stick around and endure his personal shame for a year. Then when the anniversary of your ceremony comes due, you will choose not to renew. Then “you’re home free baby!”
Sorry, I forgot you do not know that term. It was effective communication on earth. I have to keep reminding myself that there is a little blue ball out there called earth. A place I have some fond memories of. But, such is life and one must make the best of it.
I am getting off track. Back to the copious piles of gold that will be spent on this catered affair. It seems to matter not if you run from the affair or stay and be a party of the companioning to this spitting image of bosk dung, you probably WILL, if companioned, leave your companion after a year, (that poor excuse for a meat suit) which will cause your parents to lament the day your were born. If you run pre-companioning, your parents would not only regret ever knowing you, they might lose their retirement. Either way your parents lose even though you will come out about even. So let’s see what can be done to let your parents back out of this dubious “celebration” with good graces and seem heroic for having done so.
It will be up to you to mount a grass roots campaign to declare your “future companion” unfit. All of Gor needs to know of the “warrior” who defecated on his caste codes. Gor must be warned when this type of mental illness creeps on board. No self-respecting free woman would allow the progeny of this psychotic to exit from her womb let alone enter her womb.
Again, I digress. So, in mounting a crusade, you will be vindicated. Your parents will be proud that you stood up for true caste members where ever they may be, and you will be relieved of the guilt and shame of causing the ruination of your parents.
By the way, if you need a campaign manager, I am available on short notice.
DEAR TEAL:
I am a slave. I used to live in the northern climes of Gor. There, we called our masters, Jarls. We did not have to kneel in the presence of the free. We could walk by them and not be concerned that the free would want a report of who we were and where were we going. We had too much work to do to be kneeling down and relaxing. I was bought by a new Master and he lives in a southern clime. In the new city, I have to kneel constantly in the presence of the free, I have to say Master this and Master that. I am not happy with all this regimentation. I do not want to run away. Do you have a solution for me?
DEAR DEEP IN NOSTALGIA:
You seem to know little about how things are done around here. I appreciate that you come from a land that you have good feelings about. I too know of such feelings myself. Here is what I don’t do, though. I don’t kneel all the time in the presence of the free. Think about it, if you got on your knees to every free person you passed, even though they may not give a rosy red urts ass as to the reason you are walking around , you would never be able to accomplish tasks.
I do kneel when I am speaking to them or they are speaking to me or if I am serving them. Otherwise a slave does not have to spend their lives on their knees. It is a bad habit in any case and can cause prepatellar bursitis. So if you are cooking, cleaning, and marketing, etc. you obviously, should be on your feet. It is always a good idea to get on your knees when your own Master enters your presence.
I also don’t do this. I don’t vocalize the sentiments that my previous place of residence was superior to my present city. This kind of talk can lead to a good cuffing or at the very least, being captured and abused. When in Treve, do what the Trevian’s do. For example, in Treve, you might see slave’s spitting in the pots of food awaiting the free. You see that this slave is not being admonished or punished in anyway and continues to get away with this detestable act. Does this mean you join in and jump over the cliff like the rest of the lemmings. This kind of insubordination spreads like wildfire. It is called anarchy. Turning a blind eye to one infraction will, down the road, leave plenty of space for other noxious practices. Maybe slaves will take up swords against the free and defy their Masters, threatening them with death.
Start practicing saying the word Master or Mistress. It is just a small contribution to stave off certain anarchy. Then practice and perfect a graceful kneel. Make it a game with yourself. Tell yourself to “mean it” when you do kneel. Don’t give one of those, “toss back your hair, utter an audible word of disgust at having to do this kneeling thing, and look up into the eyes of the free with a nauseous look and tell them in a sarcastic manner that you would be only too “happy” to comply with whatever they are asking you.” Give them a heartfelt kneel and response. Is it too awful to suggest that? You will be surprised at how much candy you will be tossed.
From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 153
WHO WERE THESE MEN….STRANGE STRANGERS AT THE GATE
Tuesday, April 1st, 2014
Pictures: Village of Abydos
Who were these men…Strange strangers at the gate
By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni Warrior
I had a “run-in”, of sorts, this week and when it was over, I retained bad feelings about the whole encounter.
My Master was on gate duty and he was having some rather odd interaction with a few questionable Gorean males. They spoke a strange dialect, which made the questioning even more difficult than normal.
These strangers at the gate were acting like urts, looking like urts, and boy did they smell ripe. Oh excuse me; I am not to criticize the free. Now, there is no way I will try to soften that. I mean picture a bosk; picture all the long hair on that wondrous mammal. Now think about the heat at the highest point of La Torvis on a day in the middle of En’Var. The bosk has been lying down in its filth. Now if you inhale deeply you will have the scent of these strangers at the gate. My eyes were starting to water and so I excused myself from my Master’s side, feigning some malaise or other. I ran to the gate that took me to the inside walls where I climbed 3 flights of stairs to get to the top of the walls. Once up there, I inhaled deeply of the cool breeze that was blowing off the Olni River. I stayed on the wall until my eyes cleared and my stomach stopped churning.
I came around to my senses and went back down the walls and into the gate keepers fortress and peeked through the notch to observe the going’s on at the gate well out of range of my olfactory’s. The exchange between these male stink machines and my Master was not heading in any plausible direction. I came out and knelt by the inside commons gates. It was about as close as one could get without passing out from the noxious off gassing from their collective personages. I looked above to the landing of the warrior’s hall and there stood Captain Atlas with a bemused look on his face. I wanted to shout to him to get closer to the action down below, thinking that I would see a very different look on his face once he breathed deeply of the fetid cloud that surrounded these strangers.
They claimed to be from Vonda. I found that fact ludicrous. I have been to Vonda and all I can remember was the scented oils and delicious food smells. Vonda’s citizens appeared bright and shiny in their clean robes and tunics. The slave’s seemed well arranged and sweet smelling. How were these escapee’s from the cesspool related to those lovely folk in Vonda? I immediately thought, “These men are from Treve and they have come to case the joint.” My jaw dropped when my Master, having no reason to keep them out of Port Olni, opened the gate, checked them for bows, and opened the gate to the commons.
Another slave came to join me. Since this slave was newly acquired by the House of Spiritweaver, her name was 3040. This 3040 knelt next to me and wanted to know the skinny on the gate hubbub. I started to tell her when the strange, malodorous trio came over to 3040 and myself. They loomed large in body and in scent. I looked over to the other kajira and I could see her eyes start to water from the stench. I could not help but laugh and I was immediately chastised by one Master Fetid. If that wasn’t his name, it should have been. I immediately offered my services to bring them hot food and drink. They ignored this offer and just stood there making grunting noises. The vocalizations emanating from the pie holes in their faces went something like this: “ahhhhhhh, ahhhhhh, ahhhhh, piss piss, piss piss, hog, and hog hog.” They also kept putting a “Z” in front of every noun. For instance, “Z” slut, “Z” gate, “Z” ale, etc. I kept wondering who the hell “Z” was.
This was all confusing to say the least. They stopped all their grunting to demand that they be taken to the tavern. This I dutifully did. I watched my Master through the bars of the gate, frowning at him as I passed. I mean, I loved serving in the commons; you get to meet so many travelers, it gives you a chance to hobnob with the good citizen’s of Olni. But…in the tavern, Gorean males usually have other needs which I was not willing to fulfill at the moment. I was not disappointed in my supposition, for once the doors of the tavern slammed, the odor crew demanded sexual acts. The slave 3040 was a little disconcerted and I was glad she was there to help “relieve the burden”. One of the strangers, who were ostensibly from Vonda, was mute because of having his tongue sliced off. It is really too bad he did not have his tongue, it might have been better if he had lost his nose. The mute one kept saying, “ahhhhhh, ahhhhhh, ahhhhhh…” while forcing the head of 3040 into his lap. The other two, amused themselves with pouring ale over my head for kissing the side of the tankard and deciding which one was going to use my mouth first.
I have poured over the scrolls of the historian Master Norman as my Master has directed me in his lessons. I realize that this tavern travesty was not unknown in the past on the planet Gor. Gorean males are sexy beasts to be sure. Please forgive me for using the word “beast” but it is an apt descriptor of Gorean man meat. Furring is usually on their minds. Although, it has been my experience that when a free man uses me, he turns into a romance machine. These men desire bathing in hot scented pools of water and being massaged with delicious oils. It is a delight to pleasure them at these times. The historian writes of males who take what they want, when they want. This is as it should be and I do remember that the historian admonished, “If it is not beautiful, it is not Gorean.” It appears that the historian, Master Norman, has put us all on notice. We all need to have within us, exquisite beauty. I mean really, what are we all residents of Port Kar or Treve? I think not. We are people of cosmopolitan thinking, for the most part. On earth there was a word being popularized among the dwellers. It was a “made up” word to define a male cosmopolite. The word was “metro sexual”. I think I have translated it into the Gorean with sufficient aplomb.
Not to say that Gorean males should go around carrying a fresh pair of panties in their back packs, but rather be groomed for the odd occasion that may present itself when searching for someone to couple with. Every slave thinks fondly of such encounters with males who manscape and smell like a fresh breeze off Thassa.
Once again, I digress. You see, this humiliating show was witnessed, through the foggy window by passers by. I wondered if my Master would appear through the doors to oversee this episode in my life. I was unaware that his duties increased at the gate and he was detained. I felt ill-treated by these fish-monger’s bastards. This is one of the few times since arriving here that I was in fear for my life. They made veiled references to our displeasing them and the punishment that they could reign down on 3040’s head and my own.
When they tired of amusing themselves with us, they made a beeline for the gate and to the docks.
I followed my Master as he opened the gates. He closed them after the gas clouds left. He stood looking out the gate and I sat in silence. After a few ehn he turned to me and looked down as if to say, “Oh, you’re here.” He said, “Something is wrong, you seemed vexed.” I was happy that my change in tone, resorting to my “Mr. Roboto” voice, caught his attention. I was mumbling things under my breath; some of them caught the eardrums of Captain Atlas. When that warrior asked if I had said anything, I told him I was remarking about the lovely new flowers on the hills. My Master knew better than to buy into my deception. After the warrior left, my Master started using the third degree on me.
“My slut”, he said, “those men were of Vonda, and they would not dare to hurt you. And I pray that you pleased the free as you know you should.” I snorted at the “Vonda” part.
He went on to say, “I do not wish you to be harmed in the least and I am pretty certain that I have expressed my love for you. Do you doubt that?”
I replied, “I try not to think on it too much my Master. Since a slave should not be curious about whether someone loves them or not. It is unbecoming to a slave. I serve you to the best of my ability. I serve with passion and try to live up to my slave paces. I am not required to do any more I believe. I am your property after all.” I could tell that this cut him to the quick. It was impudent of me to give such a cold answer after the kindnesses he has extended to my unworthy self.
He cleared his throat, lifted my chin and said quietly, “Teal, I love you with all my heart. You are my love slave. There is no other and that is my final word on that.”
I know my Master to be a Gorean of integrity. I knew he was telling me the truth. I said happily…”My Master lets go home and soak in the tub and then afterward……..”
From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 152
SPRING AND I AM ALIVE
Tuesday, April 1st, 2014
Picture: The harbour of Tancred’s Landing
Spring and I am alive
By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni Warrior
The time of En’Kara came in on a kur’s back and commenced to spawning a battalion of evil. One may say, “What’s got Teal’s panties in a wad?”
With all I have been through at the beginning of the Gorean New Year, I must look back and say how grateful I am. I am still here. I am able to once more serve my Master and all free. I am permitted to go on with my purpose in life. Back on earth there is an expression, “Into every life a little rain must fall.” The wording makes you think that travails are experiences that are nothing more than going outside on a warm summer’s day and being sprinkled by a passing shower. This cannot be further from the truth.
Platitudes have never been my cup of Bazi tea. I would prefer someone smile and nod and not utter a single word rather than pollute the air with the breath from their lungs with a banality. Before this escapes me, I must say that recently I have heard the most incredible words out of the mouths of citizens and slaves of Port Olni. It all has to do with my five weeks in the infirmary cylinder in my Master’s city.
I contracted what I thought to be the of Bazi plague. The Physicians of Olni, some of the finest healers around, noticed that there was a twist to this “so- called” Bazi plague that I appeared to have. I had very high fevers but no pustules (yuck!). I did have a yellowing of the whites of my eyes but the head physician chalked that one up to my paga drinking, which most have witnessed, sad to say.
I lay in fevers for six days in my Master’s home in Olni Var, before he decided to take me to the infirmary. When he delivered me into the capable hands of our smart physicians, he was chastised for not bringing me in sooner. I should have been the one verbally flogged since I was petrified to leave my Master’s side to be cooped up in the infirmary and begged him not to take me there.
My diagnosis at one point looked grim and I drifted in and out of hallucinations. Every time I opened my eyes I was greeted by my Master sitting by my bedside holding my hand. He told me of the free and slaves in Port Olni stopping by the infirmary to leave food, funny scrolls to read to me, and flowering plants that I might enjoy. In fact, when I came home to my Master’s house, the front veranda was awash with blooming plants that the concerned had left. No, these were not platitudes that I received; they were positive and loving thoughts being expressed in my direction. Pretty heady stuff for me since I am only a slave and do not deserve anything.
My only regret is that I can’t properly thank each Gorean that sent positive thoughts and love my way. In the infirmary I kept drifting in and out of consciousness…things that were not there appeared real, and I began living in two worlds, reality and delusion. In this altered state I could not remember what was real and what wasn’t. I saw and talked to many in Port Olni, although I now realize there was no such meeting with anyone. But that was how I felt the unfeigned concern of good citizens and slaves.
It is quite nice that I now have my mind back, although my Master would debate you on that one, and I am pushing forward. I hope to serve you in the commons if you are free and I hope to help you serve and clean if you are a slave very soon.
From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 151
New Voice of Gor No. 144-151
Tuesday, April 1st, 2014New Voice of Gor, vol. 4, issue 151 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 150 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 149 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 148 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 147 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 146 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 145 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 144 (shorter online version)
TRAITORS, TRAITORS EVERYWHERE, AND NOT A ONE CAN THINK
Tuesday, February 18th, 2014
Pictures: The new ferry of Tancred’s Landing
Traitors, Traitors everywhere, and not a one can think
By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr, Port Olni Warrior
Distressing as it may be, there are traitors in every city and hamlet. There are free who would sooner spit on the Home Stone than honor it. It fills everyone with disgust to think that this would be possible and if it does not fill one with disgust, then one needs to reexamine his or her priorities.
All warriors, companions, Masters, Mistresses, and yes, even slaves need someone who has their back. This person is one you can depend on to sit with you, back to back, and have a 180 degree view of the battle field while you cover the other 180 degrees. Then in the war called life, you are less likely to suffer a sneak attack. They would both have each other’s back, or so one would think.
This past week I was the personal witness and recipient to a traitor and his ugly ways. The city of my Master’s Home Stone is a paragon of good taste, beautiful ladies, exquisite slaves, (except for you Tilapia, you bitch) and brave handsome males of all castes. So it is with heavy heart that I must relate a most disgusting act by a warrior to his senior officer. If this act shook me to the core, I could see that it might make a grown man cry. My Master had the unfortunate bad luck to be captured by warriors from Sais. My Master departed Olni to help Turia against an attack from Sais. That Sais is a filthy outpost on the Vosk, a fly ridden, smelly heap of bosk dung, is really secondary to the lying thieving ways of their slaves.
But I digress…My Master was tied hand and foot and dragged down the unpaved streets of Sais to their jail which is little more than a pen for verr. Upon this straw covered floor he lay helpless while a couple of slaves from the city made rude comments about his manhood and robbed him of his coin purse. I have sent a scroll to the Initiate in Port Olni asking him, in the name of my Master, to send a blue flame their way. My Master was allowed to give one shout out for help and so a scribe was sent for and a scroll prepared for delivery to the warriors in Port Olni.
When the scroll arrived by messenger, a warrior at the gate opened it and wrote across my Master’s plea for help, “NO”. He handed the scroll back to the messenger. When my Master heard of the reply from this traitor to his caste, he was incredulous. He vowed that upon returning to Port Olni, heads were going to roll. I never want to contemplate my Master going to the City of Dust due to neglect from a brother in his caste.
Fortunately for my Master and me, a merchant named Hesius was at the gate and watched this whole disgraceful transaction take place. He immediately took off for the docks with his slave and sister who was visiting him at the time. He arrived in Sais a short time later, it being just down the Olni River on the Vosk. It is amazing to me how one small merchant was brave enough to face all the warriors of Sais. He had no weapon but his inventory. Makes me think of my Boss, the Rarius Yuroki, and how he can make cities bow low with just the mention of the delicacies he puts into his warehouses.
Well, Master Hesius Grey, cajoled the two dufus warriors who greeted him at the gate, with 2 barrels of mead and 2 of ale. They had demanded 5 slaves at first and it was fortunate that these dipsomaniacal members of their caste let a valuable warrior escape their clutches. If the sainted Ubar of Port Olni had caught wind of his capture, a protracted war with Sais would have been undertaken.
After this incident of the capture and release, my Master shrugged off the obscene act by a brother and was off again for escort duty for some ambassador or other from the city. I went to the commons to serve and hear the gossip. I was greeted by a persistent buzz about a warrior who had left Olni, seemingly in the dead of night, and went to Genesian Port to swear allegiance to THEIR Home Stone. This happens so infrequently in Olni, traitors spitting on the Home Stone, that free women were seen to weep while talking about this back-stabbing apostate in the commons.
I, on the other hand, love the idea of vengeance. I daydreamed of cutting off the head of this two-timing defector. I saw myself leading a battalion of warriors into Genesian Port, headed by the high magistrate and demanding they turn over this man who spit on the Home Stone. I felt my body shaking with righteous indignation picturing my laughter at his execution.
Shortly though, I was yelled at by a scribe to wake up because he wanted a hot drink. And so went my reverie. It is at times like this, I wish I was free and had money in my purse. Then there would be no question about hiring an assassin to push this ex-Olnian into the river chained to some large boulders. If I was the Ubar of a city, a silly thought really, I would deny that pond scum, access to bread, salt, and fire.
If I could, I would warn the good citizens of Genesian Port, of the double-crossing deceiver in their midst who most certainly will have no one’s back but his own.
From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 144
BLUE FLAMES SINGE THE EARS OF PORT OLNI
Wednesday, February 12th, 2014
By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr, Port Olni Warrior
BLUE FLAMES SINGE THE EARS OF PORT OLNI
Well, who da thunk it? I was witness to a blue flaming of the ears of the good citizens of Port Olni on Friday night at the temple service. The new Initiate, Solaran, was pounding his fists in the air, exhorting who ever would listen, to be better than they were being. It seems the Blessed One has caught wind of a piece of calumny perpetrated in the city. The initiate had the good graces to not reveal the name of the individual. It seems he is more discreet than I would even be.
There is something delightful about naming the names of those who have breached the boundaries of good taste. It can be so delicious to jeer and caste a disapproving eye at another. There are so many times when I have felt compelled to do this. I am guilty. And, the kiss of the whip has finally caused this habit to exit my practice.
Well, the Friday temple service was exciting. I arrived about 15 ehn early to beg the Blessed One to speak louder. I arrived to beat about the bush trying to tell our Holy man about the slaves. The slaves, low beasts that they are, were complaining in the market place about not being able to hear the Blessed Initiate when they had to kneel so far from the door. My entreaties got his attention and as he started the service, his voice rang out in thunderous claps. There was a fisherman floating in a round boat near the Olni shore. He stood in fear, looking around for a possible blue flaming. It was kinda amusing because at the time a thunderstorm started and the rumbles and flashes of lightning matched the words from the Initiate’s mouth.
Barring my ridiculous observations, the content and delivery of the service was bone chilling. There were quite a few attendees inside the temple. Among them were the Ubara of Olni, an Ambassador, the Olni City Kennel Slavers, and three slaves. There were others standing about the temple. I could feel the astonishment in the air coming from inside the service. The only thing I felt from the slaves surrounding me was the hot breath from their yawns. To be sure, it was a cold day. Snow was still on the ground. One of the slaves, gratefully, lit a brazier and we huddled close to it. These slaves may need a dressing down from their owners. But, I guess it is hard to concentrate on the Holy Ones words when your lips and fingers are turning blue. I tried to elicit some conversation but was regaled with things like, “Did you see that so and so’s Master bought her a new set of silks that cost more than the dress his companion wore to their companioning ceremony?” And, “I cooked three suls last night for my Master’s household and all three burst into flame on the hearth.” I nodded dumbly.
The content of the Blessed One’s speech exhorted all of Olni to stop the idol gossip and bickering that was perceived to be present. He said that the Priest-Kings know all about what goes on everywhere including Olni. He intimated that Olni will not be permitted to stand unless we are undivided in our loyalties to the city. The old adage, “a chain is only as strong as its weakest link”, was shouted so loudly that I’ll bet anyone in the public baths could have heard it. And how about that other saying, “a house divided cannot stand”, a truth if there ever was one.
I watched as everyone left the service, their beautiful robes glinting in the setting Tor tu Gor. The Ubara appeared to have tears welling in her eyes. The slavers were uneasy, and more so since the free woman slaver was in need of a toilet. She is nine months pregnant and her bladder could not be counted on to hold its contents for long periods.
The Ambassador, as he exited, turned his attention to the thrall that was kneeling with us. He greeted him and told him to serve with heart. At that point, I was so cold I would have preferred he serve with heat.
I glanced up at the Blessed One as he came out the door and exhorted us all to go in peace. There was a wistful look on his face. One of deep concern. He had the look of a father whose son is being sent off into battle. His eyes were overlaid with love, pride. and fear. I took my leave and went to the commons area to see if there was any buzz about the service. I have not heard any yet, put I will certainly keep my ears open and report back any developments.
From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 144
New Voice of Gor No. 138-143
Monday, February 3rd, 2014New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 143 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 142 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 141 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 140 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 139 (shorter online version)
New Voice of Gor, vol. 3, issue 138 (shorter online version)
Ask Teal – Dubious advice to Goreans
Saturday, February 1st, 2014
Picture: Warehouse and bank of the House of Yuroki Company, Tancred’s Landing, by night
By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr, Port Olni Warrior
DEAR TEAL:
I am a female slave whose Master has just informed her that he is leaving on an extended trip. He did not mention taking me with. It appears that he will be gone from the middle of Se’Var to the beginning of En’Var. To be sure, I will miss him and ache for him every day that he is gone. I am new to this Master. He has not a free companion or children. I seem to be “it” for him. I feel concerned that he is going alone and hurt that I am not being taken with him. What should I do while he is away?
DEAR SEEMINGLY FORGOTTON:
I feel for your plight. That is a long time to be Masterless. Well, let’s think of a few ways you can fill in the ahns while alone.
Look around your Master’s abode. Hopefully you have access to merchants in the marketplace who extend credit to your Master. If you see an item that needs to be in place so that your Master can have an easier life, for instance a new jar of oil for the bathtub, a new cloak for him, a set of larl furs for the bedroom, silk pillows, new drinking vessels, then buy it. Shop with an eye toward beauty, functionality, and above all quality. You get the point. Start within the physical four walls and work inward.
The next spotlight should be cast upon your wardrobe. Are your silk’s skimpy enough? Is there enough see-through material in their making to cause a grown gorean man to cry? Are your anklet’s and bracelet’s as clean and polished as they can be? How is your hair? Maybe a trip to your favorite bathhouse and a consult with one of the ladies who serve in these miracles of ablutionary pleasure, will be time well spent. See if you need a cut or shaping. Take a look at your Master’s weapons that he has left behind. Put them all in a cart and haul them to the metal worker’s stall in the marketplace in your city. Tell him to hone them all to razor sharpness. If he does not understand that phrase, tell him you want them all to be able to cut a throat easily.
Now we have covered the realities of your coming abandonment and what you can do to make yourself useful. You could turn inward and examine your compliance with your slave paces. Start saying them fluidly and like you mean it, every third ahn of the day. Then go out and practice those paces on the free people in the commons area. Serve like your life depended on being pleasing. Sign up to help anyone who is asking for committee workers. Make yourself useful!
From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 143
Where is he going? …continued
Saturday, February 1st, 2014
Picture: Treve
By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr, Port Olni Warrior
It amazes me to no end when I function on supposition and not truth. I was really ignorant of the travel plans my Master was making. Some slaves might read that last sentence and say, “Oh yeah Teal, you are truly a bosk’s bum.” And I know who is saying that right now; the person that is reading this and was once the “keeper of the naughty list” in Port Olni. Well, to you and the three other people who read my drivel, a fleer’s fart on you. You see, I have to be concerned with my Master’s whereabouts. Most would say, “That is not true, you just go and do not ask questions. A slave has no rights. You are an animal.” Now think about that for a moment. Yes, that is so correct. I could not have said it with fewer words. It takes me several uttered sentences before I get to the point, but if you stop reading now you will never find out the big explosive ending.
Well, play with fire if you will. For the other 2 people reading this column, I will plunge ahead. I am to serve, please and to be pleasing to all Free Persons. I am also to serve with exquisite beauty and absolute obedience. Now, following orders blindly is noble and honorable. It means that you have absolute confidence that you trust the other person’s judgment as if it were backed by an iron-clad guarantee from the Priest-Kings. On Gor, it seems, Goreans make quick friends with people and for brief periods, they treat each other amicably. Not to do so, would mean that the stranger would have to be an enemy and worthy of your blade. But these fast friendships are constantly broken by tiresome border squabbles which turn friends from adjoining lands into mortal enemies. So the old adage still applies; ‘be careful whom you trust’.
So, I do not think it is pleasing or obedient and it can be damn well ugly if you do not keep yourself alert to dangers, lest your Master dash his foot against a stone. It’s at these times, should you become too inquisitive, you can say, “I must look out for your health and good fortune my Master. May this girl have permission to speak? I knowi full well that if what I say is displeasing to you, I will suffer a whipping from your kind hand.” This last statement will actually make two people happy. Your Master will hear a warning from your lips that may prove to save his life and health and if not, he will get some much needed exercise lashing your backside. And, you will get whip marks to prove to others in the market place that you are much cherished by your Master.
Not being told where my Master was going, and taking me with, was almost criminal. Since, to put it in earth terms, I am his housekeeper, butler, parlor maid, scullery maid, interior decorator, washwoman, haberdasher, chef, comparison shopper, personal assistant, transcriber of the notes he makes for his maps, sex toy, “whipping boy”, and the keeper of his secrets, which would make me appear imbecilic if I were to permit him to enter into harm. Don’t tell anyone, but there are not too many Master’s who depend upon their slave as much as my Master does.
And so it was to my amazement that I found out my Master was going to Treve. He was not going as a representative of Port Olni dressed in his caste uniform color of scarlet cloth. Instead he was going undercover, in the disguise of a merchant. This was to be a cloak and dagger adventure as a spy for the Commander of the Port Olni warriors. It kinda excited me. I was to be traveling to a mountain clime which is given to lower temperatures. Because of the cold, I was given three different larl pelt cloaks and feathered and bejeweled headdresses so that I would look the part of a slave to a merchant who is extremely prosperous. I think most of us would rather be around a richly dressed individual and not someone who is wearing the Gorean version of Birkenstocks. Dressed in rich arraignment, my Master was assured of being let in the front gates of Treve. I do hope they have changed the stockade type entry in favor of some richly hewn stone gate towers. I don’t like landing at a fly infested arrival point. The last time I went to Treve, there was a distinct odor of urine around the gates.
And so we went to Treve and had a great time playing at “merchant”. My Master pretended that he was going to sell me to the highest bidder and I gave him pretend scowls. It was all in great fun, but, he let me sweat a few times when the bidding got up to the 15 gold tarn range. He always dismissed these monetary inquiries with a wave of his bejeweled hand. I smirked at his pasha like largesse and thought he might be good at ruling a city in the Tahari.
After 4 days of buying, selling, eating, fooling around and sightseeing, we were ready to leave. I think my Master obtained all the skinny on troop numbers and preparedness to give a full report to his Commander. And so it was with heavy heart and a heavier belly, from having consumed a week’s worth of cream cakes in 4 days, that I departed Treve as the property of my Master.
I promised you an explosive ending. And an explosive ending it was too. My intestinal upset matched the frolic level of my previous festivities. And there you have it. A good time was had by all. Now let me clean out this lavatory before my Master gets home.
From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 142