Archive for the ‘Oasis of Klima’ Category
We made the March to Klima!
Sunday, October 24th, 2021
[Guard of the Dunes] looks at the men who have come with him and speaks to them in a rare dialect of the desert: “Ele olha para os homens que vieram com ele e fala com eles em um raro dialeto do deserto.
É melhor não deixarmos ninguém ir, são muitos, vão ser procurados e vão tentar ainda mais encontrar o caminho, por isso os conduzimos ao oásis através das minas de sal, aí podem descansar e nós pode trazê-los de volta, eles não vão se lembrar do caminho.” (…)
[Guard of the Dunes] shields his eyes with one hand and looks around, there are no signs and no plants, then he briefly looks at the position of the sun and the shadows of the dunes, he nods and points to the right valley: We have to, and stay always on the left edge of the dunes, do not run down, there is quicksand! (…)
[Guard of the Dunes] Stop, I have to think about it .. he looks around to make sure no one has been lost and examines the group, who are already looking quite exhausted, he makes a gesture to the other guardians of the dunes to hold everyone together, then he picks up a Gorean compass Hand: Rim, no Ror, yes, we have to go there (…)
[Guard of the Dunes] holds his palm over his eyes again and scans the horizon, then he points straight ahead, a smile on his face: We are not far from the Exchange Point from the oasis, I recognize the rocks, it’s only a day from there until you are all safe and can rest and have enough water, as they say, you don’t need to know the name of the oasis… (…)
[Guard of the Dunes] stops at the pile of bones for a moment and looks at them, he mumbles more to himself: escaped slaves, or merchants who said they had to travel through the Tahari without a guide, he casts the group a sharp and disapproving look..
[Many thanks to all 21 participants!]
The March to the Oasis of Klima
Tuesday, October 12th, 2021
We made the march to Klima! The Salt Ubar administers and controls the salt districts primarily by regulating access to the districts, checking the papers and credentials of merchants, inspecting caravans, keeping records of the commerce, etc. The Salt Ubar’s men are customarily veiled as their allegiance is supposed to be to no tribe but to the protection of salt.
The Southern Trade Alliance (STA) hold a meeting in the Oasis of Klima guarded by heavily armed men who were veiled or masked. The membership of several cities and oasis had been confirmed by the assembly. The Salt Ubar was present and his deputy too.
[Thank you for everyone who participated the very interesting roleplay and thank you Sнaι’leιa Ͼeleѕтe Ḣuѕzan (shaileia) for the awesome and outstanding sim!]
We made the march to Klima
Saturday, May 8th, 2021
At the gates of Teehra: [14:00] Lysander (davie.frequency) makes his way through the stand on surprisingly steady feet for one clearly not of the area. Still, the people themselves aren’t familiar to him, and he grunts as he moves up a few feet behind Zaahir, hand resting on the pommel of his sword loosely – he’s certainly not expecting trouble at this, of all places, but best to be safe. “Salaam,” he says simply, eyes scanning the horizon before returning to the others and dipping his head in a nod.
[14:01] zazu (ioneus.trill) closes his hand and brings his fist to his chest. As the greetings were given. He then turned towards the one who spoke of the endurance of his Thalarion. “Alas you are correct, only kaiila will get us across the Dune Sea to see the new Salt Ubar”.
[14:12] Rarius Yuroki (yuroki.uriza): points at the walls: “that seems to be the exchange point! Here is red and white salt from Klima… they brought it here,,, and food for Klima. But where is the oasis itself?
[14:14] Lysander (davie.frequency) grunts, muttering something to Zaahir about how he’s not paid to be charming, then lifts the long black cloth up to cover his mouth and nose as he ducks his head and follows the others through the sands.
[14:14] Jonathaneus con Kassau (jonathaneus): …gone with the wind….he scratches his neck…all on his skin was sand….sand…and….sand….*
[14:14] Rarius Yuroki (yuroki.uriza): “I see footsteps over there, look at the dunes!” He points at the direction of the dunes behind the wall….
[14:14] zazu (ioneus.trill) gasps as their guide lead them to a trade post. “You mean you dont know?”
[14:14] Aisha Zohra Bukhara-Namaar (sarynaga) she sniffs the air, “I do not smell….water” she wrinkled her nose again, and was glad she had packed bota’s of water for both herself and for Kemal
[14:14] Rarius Yuroki (yuroki.uriza): here are footsteps…
The salt in solution is obtained in two ways, by drilling and flush mining and, in the deeper pits, by sending men below to fetch the brine. In the drilling and flush mining, two systems are used, the doublepipe system and the separate-pipe system. In the double-pipe system fresh water is forced into the cavity through an outer pipe and the heavier solution of salt and water rises bubbling through the second pipe, or inner pipe, inserted within the larger. In the separate-pipe system, two pipes, separated by several yards, are used, fresh water being forced through one, the salt water solution, the salt being dissolved in the fresh water, rising through the other. The separate-pipe system is, by most salt masters, regarded as the most efficient. An advantage of the double-pipe system is that only a single tap well need be drilled. Both systems require pumping, of course.
[14:23] Kemal Reis Bukhara (indrakalo): “The control of the mines of Klima, and to keep the raiders and other bad companies at bay, can be risky, and the Sultanate, if necessary, proposes to send an armed representation, if necessary, to help in the defense of the place. ” I rise my hand once more
[14:24] Rarius Yuroki (yuroki.uriza): crosses his arms and makes a curious face…glaring at Anvar, a small grin appears on his face, he adds in a calm tone: I will not speak out the name of the Salt Ubar
[14:25] Zaahir al Qadir (spiceandsong): “Farad,” Zaahir intones. “Will send men to stand alongside those of the Sultanate in defense of the mines.” This, at least, is a promise he can easily make on the behalf of the Pasha.
[14:26] Aisha Zohra Bukhara-Namaar (sarynaga) she pulls off a boot and dumps some sand out of it, and then repeats with the other boot. She shakes her veil as well, watching the sand and salt grains fly about. the sun catching all like a cloud of diamonds about her. She pulled out her bota, and took a long drink of water and then offered it to Kemal
[14:28] Lysander (davie.frequency) glances up at Zaahir, surprise flickering in his gaze, but he simply nods firmly, turning his attention back to the man he presumes is the Salt Ubar and listening to the proceedings, his gaze periodically circling the crowd gathered.
[14:28] Sheikh Anvar Jaziran (anvarra.alecto): “I can also say with all honor and confidence that Jabari Pasha will defend the mines as well ..even if I have to kick his butt to get the young boy to keep the caravan travelways secure” chuckling and winks to Yuroki and likes the image of the young Jabari having a fit over being told again what he has to do …”children growing into men must always learn from us older generations”
[14:29] Kemal Reis Bukhara (indrakalo): I take the bota, nodding, as a thank you, to my covered companion, drinking a controlled sip of Water, but just enough, returning the bota to her “Aisha, my Companion, we will soon verify the availability of sending a garrison, in full cooperation, with Farad and in defense of this treasure “I point to everything around us” We will look for volunteers .. more or less forced, if necessary.”
[14:19] Rarius Yuroki (yuroki.uriza) shouts: “We have made the march to Klima!”
Oasis of Klima, revisited
Tuesday, May 4th, 2021
The location of this Oasis is secret and very few people know the way for going to Klima. One of the major sites within the Tahari for obtaining salt are the brine pits of Klima, hidden deep within the dune country and its location is closely guarded. The guards of Dunes protect the Oasis and keep secret the road for coming from. The guards always wear a turban, so their face are hidden and they could not be recognized. They serve the Ubar salt, a secret lord, one of the most powerful Pasha of The Tahari. So how to get there? Where is the path to Klima?
With the subsidence of, the sea and the shifting of strata, certain cubic pasangs of salt, in certain areas, became pressed into granite-like formations, through which one may actually tunnel. Some of these deposits are far below the surface of the Tahari. Men live in some of them, for weeks at a time. In other areas, certain of these solid deposits are exposed and are worked rather in the manner of open mining or quarries. In places these salt mountains are more than six hundred feet high.
Klima has its own water, but it is dependent on caravans for its foods. These food stores are delivered to scouted areas some pasangs from the compounds, whence they are retrieved later by salt slaves. Similarly, the heavy cylinders of salt, mined and molded at Klima, are carried on the backs of salt slaves from storage areas at Klima to storage areas in the desert, whence they are tallied, sold and distributed to caravans.
Oasis of Klima
Monday, October 14th, 2019
[14:08] Wakur Hamid (wakurhamid) had been alerted by one of his man that there is a caravan approaching, so he and his guard have taken position on one of the large rocks to watch them. Some of his men are hiding nearby, ready to attack if needed. Once they are close enough, he shouts: “Halt! Who dares to approach the oasis of Klima?” (…)
[14:19] Wakur Hamid (wakurhamid): “Ibn Saran…” he repeats. “We have not heard from him in a long time. And you have come to see the Salt Ubar? Well, I am sorry to let you know that he and some of his men decided to…” he smiles and points to the half buried sceleton in the sand. “.. leave the oasis. But of course you are welcome to come in and refresh yourselves.” (…)
[14:32] Wakur Hamid (wakurhamid): A strikingly beautiful slavegirl rushes inside and starts to serve everyone a cup of tea. “you too, have a seat.” he turns to Rarius. “Things will change in Klima. The former leader has not done his duty, he did not take care of the oasis as he should have.” he pauses, almost dramatically. “Klima will stay a member of the Southern Trade Alliance. We will again start to deliver salt to Kasra and in return, we hope to get food delivered by your caravans. My people are starving.” (…)
[14:39] Wakur Hamid (wakurhamid) nods briefly and looks from one to the other and finally nods to angel’s statement. “I agree. The oasis has been corrupted, but things will return to normal. Yes, the slaves are… working again.” he clarifies. From somewhere one can hear another man screaming in agony. “Most of them.” he smiles, pulls down his sandveil and drinks.
The Most Remote Place on Gor!
Friday, October 4th, 2019
Oasis of Klima (restricted access)
Oasis of Klima, the most remote place on Gor
Friday, November 9th, 2018
A caravan of merchants of the Southern Trade Alliance has made the way to the Oasis of Klima again. The path was lost for a long time.
In the distance, below, perhaps five pasangs away, in the hot, concave, white salt bleakness, like a vast, white, shallow bowl, pasangs wide, there were compounds, low, white buildings of mud brick, plastered. There were many of them. They were hard to see in the distance, in the light, but I could make them out.
«Klima, »said Hamid.
Most salt at Klima is white, but certain of the mines deliver red salt, red from ferrous oxide in its composition, which is called the Red Salt of Kasra, after its port of embarkation, at the juncture of the Upper and Lower Fayeen.
“For twenty days had we marched. Some thought it a hundred. Many had lost count. More than two hundred and fifty men had been originally in the salt chain. I did not know how many now trekked with the march. The chain was now much heavier than it had been, for it, even with several sections removed, was carried by far fewer men. To be a salt slave, it is said, one must be strong. Only the strong, it is said, reach Klima.”
Oasis of Klima is back!
Saturday, September 24th, 2016
A caravan of merchants of the Southern Trade Alliance has made the way to the Oasis of Klima again. The path was lost for a long time.
In the distance, below, perhaps five pasangs away, in the hot, concave, white salt bleakness, like a vast, white, shallow bowl, pasangs wide, there were compounds, low, white buildings of mud brick, plastered. There were many of them. They were hard to see in the distance, in the light, but I could make them out.
«Klima, »said Hamid.
Most salt at Klima is white, but certain of the mines deliver red salt, red from ferrous oxide in its composition, which is called the Red Salt of Kasra, after its port of embarkation, at the juncture of the Upper and Lower Fayeen.
“For twenty days had we marched. Some thought it a hundred. Many had lost count. More than two hundred and fifty men had been originally in the salt chain. I did not know how many now trekked with the march. The chain was now much heavier than it had been, for it, even with several sections removed, was carried by far fewer men. To be a salt slave, it is said, one must be strong. Only the strong, it is said, reach Klima.”
WHERE DOES THE GLORIUS EMPIRE OF AR EXIST?
Tuesday, November 18th, 2014
The House of Yuroki Caravan approaching the Oasis of Klima
WHERE DOES THE GLORIUS EMPIRE OF AR EXIST? ~ 400 Years in the Future
By Teal Razor
In Port Olni, for the most part, the dwellers go about their tasks in a placid but cautious manner. Well, for the most part, except when sex starved slaves obtain a construction crew to erect an impromptu dance pit in the dead center of the commons. This was the scene last week in the commons of Port Olni.
Passersby were taken aback by this construction zone. Curiously though, the passersby did not report this behavior to a warrior, a magistrate, or the Ubarate. I speculated that those who passed by did not inform the authorities because they thought it was another project by the architectural firm, Buildem & Pray. After all it had all the earmarks of one of their construction sites; rubble, cement dust, and puddles of water everywhere.
So, no one suspected that a slave was actually the contractor. The pit, though, was fabricated so shoddily that there was a hole in the sand of the pit near the perimeter. When the slave/construction manager hopped in the pit to show a visiting physician some new moves she had learned, the hole proved to be a hindrance to her footfalls. At a couple of points in the dance she fell face first into the hole. I had never seen such a movement in any Gorean dance I had learned at the Gorean Dance Academy.
That no punishment was accorded the slave for causing this architectural flaw in the commons is the biggest puzzle of all. After the dance, the slave just walked away casually. Later a warrior saw the mess in the commons and ordered it cleared immediately. He asked around to see if he could learn who was responsible for this monstrosity of a dance pit. Funny, no one was able to identify the “perp” since no one thought a slave would do such a thing and chalked it up to the architectural firm of Buildem & Pray. No one would question THEIR doings in the commons. I think if anyone passing would have stopped to ascertain what was going on, the slave would have been apprehended quickly with a public whipping to follow.
This unquestioning of a questionable act was the forerunner of further aberrant behavior of the Citizens of Port Olni. I tried to figure out why last week, all the citizens believed that the Glorious Empire of Ar raided Port Olni.
The citizens even went so far as to claim injury and capture from the raiders who swooped down from the Glorious Empire of Ar. The peculiar thing about this raid was that it did not take place.
But, you could not reassure the citizens of this fact. The citizens brandished their swords and whacked away at invisible raiders before them.
And yet, for a raid that did not take place, the citizens thought it was real. Women hid, babies cried, alarms were sounded and the bridge raised. Warriors were seen tying themselves in binds, shouting to the thin air that they would kill the sleen from the Glorious Empire of Ar.
I came upon the aftermath of this raid to see people actually standing around discussing it. I felt like I was in a time warp because the Glorious Empire of Ar … does not exist. If it exists somewhere in the future we do not know. I mean, when was the last time a haruspex gazed into the entrails of a giani and said… “By golly, the Glorious Empire of Ar exists in the future. In fact, 400 years in the future.” No one has done this to anyone’s knowledge and yet Port Olni was deluded into thinking the Glorious Empire of Ar existed and they were in fact being raided by The Glorious Empire of Ar.
If the Glorious Empire of Ar does not exist and if by chance it will exist in the future, then in order to raid Port Olni, the raiders from that Glorious Empire would have had to use a time machine. Time machines do not exist, therefore the Glorious Empire of Ar was not in Olni.
I pondered this mass hysteria and decided to check the water supply to see if someone had infused a mind altering drug in the cisterns. I drank it, as a test, hoping I could see things that were not there. It did not happen. I was as sober as a magistrate after drinking a bota full of the stuff. I sniffed the air for some malicious gas that could be floating around. Gas has been known to cause ill effects on the sniffee’s. No gas was detected by me. Just the plain ole clean air of Port Olni.
I then had a bright idea that maybe the city had ingested Sa tarna grains contaminated with ergot. I rushed to the bakery and ate some mouthfuls of the grain hoping for a psychedelic effect. The only thing I received was a stomach ache.
This is a puzzle that one cannot solve. It did leave collateral damage in Olni with cuts, bruises, and headaches. They are still talking about it and all I can think of is…why?
Meeting of the Southern Trade Alliance – Brundisium
ASK TEAL ~ Dubious Advice to Goreans
By Teal Razor
DEAR TEAL:
I am a warrior and in my city I have noticed a steady increase in gambling. I myself like to throw an ostrakan into a basket to judge the way a game will go or not but I am not talking of this casual type of gambling. I have been seeing a more pervasive and insidious game being played where two men are drinking in the tavern. One brings out a pair of dice and tells the other…”I want to cut your head off. I want you to roll the dice and if you roll a number higher than mine, I will not cut your head off. But, if the number you roll is lower than the one I throw, you lose your head. So lets do that to pass the time.” I have seen men agree to this, the dice are thrown and inevitably a head will roll onto the tavern floor accompanied by much blood.
Three of my brother warriors were involved in such nonsense last week. One of them wound up without a right arm, which makes him useless to his caste, another had a dagger stuck in his belly and may not make it, the last was carved up like a vulo on a spit and died. This vice is spreading even to the kennels. Slaves are starting to throw dice to see who will clean up the bosk pens and they even throw the dice to find out how many lashes with a quirt that the first girl will administer.
Free women in the commons have stopped conversing so that they can roll dice on the table. They prearrange with another free woman that if they roll a higher number, that person can kill the slave of the other. If the other woman rolls higher, she gets to impale the other woman’s slave.
How can this madness go on and what can I do to stop it.
DEAR LEAVING LAS VEGAS:
Madness is an apt word for what you are experiencing. What you relate is a chilling tale of life being determined by a role of the dice. I mean what does that say for the participants, that they are at a loss for words to work out their differences, that they are so bored out of their minds that they chose not to speak but grunt to one another? I think you are right to rant about this “unspeakable” behavior. I am wondering what you really can do about this. It is a risky business to get between a person and his vice, especially of the vice of gambling.
If you think about it, you could become the object of their wrath and instead of their betting on one another, they could bet who could be next to run you through with a sword. This would be bad for your health.
I really believe that you should look for another city to make your Home Stone. Find a city where the citizens are articulate and have developed the habit of reading. It is doubtful that you will find “dice rollers” in your new city. The sound of soft chatter will be heard instead of the blood curdling screams of those who lose their limbs to a bet.
From the VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 182
PAGA, PAGA, PAGA ~ Festival in Sulport
Tuesday, May 13th, 2014
Picture: Oasis of Klima, Tahari desert
By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Sulport
PAGA, PAGA, PAGA ~ Festival in Sulport
This weekend, merrymaking was at its best in Sulport. I am still recovering from the copious bowls of paga my Master fed me. I try to stay away from paga drinking. It seems one bowl is enough to cause me to shed what little clothing I have on and dance on table tops. One could say slaves should be doing these actions on a daily basis, well the dancing on tables part at least.
Sulport was awash not only in paga barrels, but revelers of all types willing to quaff the brew that was offered in tents set up around the city. Sulport was built with the word “par-tay” in mind. To be sure the buildings are neoclassical in fabrication but the arrangement of broad stone set plazas that surround them offer perfect places to set up festive booths and rides. Sulport took on the air of an earth carnival.
I was taken by my Master to one plaza that contained many venues. The first that attracted my attention was a kissing booth. I was quick to stand behind its counter and pucker up for the lips of my Master. I also looked around for any stray lips that wanted kissing but only free women were in the vicinity. After the smooching was over, he walked around to each tented and gaily decorated booth and examined them closely. I was especially taken with the candy booth. As luck would have it I was the recipient of a large honey candy which I commenced eating. Once my head is in candy, nothing much matters. A point that is well taken with my Master and he used the occasion of my zombie-like behavior to feed me the first of the paga bowls.
With my head reeling from the alcohol I continued to follow my Master around the fair. Our next stop was the snake charming basket. I looked in it to see an ugly ost. My Master picked up a flute and started playing and thumping the ground in front of the disgusting, wriggling, scaly thing. It popped its head out and started hissing at which point I backed off. I went to the revolving swings nearby and hopped on. Sucking on the candy was the only thing that saved me from displaying the contents of my stomach since the paga made me woozy and the action of the merry-go-round swings intensified the paga’s effect. After a while the feeling passed and my Master hopped on the swings also. He shoved his sandal up my butt from behind which caused us both to laugh.
Our next venue was the puppet show booth which was not manned at that moment. I called over to a kajira I have made acquaintance with by the name of Kayla. I was told she was going to put on a puppet show, which would have been highly amusing but, her Master, impatient with the slowness of the preparations, dragged her off so that he could swill from the flowing spigot of the paga barrel. This fact annoyed me but her Master got his comeuppance of a sort when he volunteered to be the dunkee in the dunk tank. I begged my Master to purchase me some projectiles to hurl at the bull’s eye target. He obliged me and I stood on the marker with stone in hand ready to pitch it at the destination which would cause Kayla’s Master to fall into the tank. The Priest-Kings were with me as I hit the mark on the first try and into the tank went Master Lorr Tren. I walked away smirking, satisfied that if I could not be privileged to see his girl’s puppet show, at least he was cold and wet because of my accurate throw.
After another ahn, my Master left to take a nap after he had downed a few bowls of paga himself. He bought me a honey pop and a nice piece of spiced and dried bosk meat. I was in tarsk heaven. Kneeling in the plaza, eating, and observing the free and slaves at their festivities was a pleasant pass time.
I was startled when a tarn and rider landed rather abruptly in the middle of this paga fest. The rider was hooded. His eyes scowling. He inquired about a dance competition that he was sure would be taking place at the Paga Festival. I informed him rather brightly that it would be starting in 2 ahn. A nearby slave got rather close to the tarn’s beak and was warned off by the cantankerous man who rode it. I was far enough away and called out to see if it would be permissible to throw a piece of candy to the tarn. The rider let fly a series of epithets which I countered with the supposition that he had arisen on the wrong side of the furs that morning.
Not wanting to be inhospitable, I asked him if it would not be more pleasant for him to come down off his high tarn and let me serve him paga and sweet meats while he was waiting for the dancers. This lead to further malevolent and inflammatory language from the tarnsman. He threatened in a loud voice to kill all the inhabitants of Sulport, raze the city, and bind all the slaves and sell them at auction in Port Kar. This ridiculous bellowing was heard by a free woman who was passing by. She demanded to know if the tarn rider was wanting to start a war.
Without warning the one man army atop the tarn instructed his bird to kill and devour me. I was alert for this one. After he called me a smart mouth slave I knew he was not to be cajoled in any way shape or form and arose to my feet and started backing away. It was a good thing I did. The tarn grazed my buttocks with it’s massive beak causing a nasty bruise. I ran for the apartments of my Master, the idiot on tarnback in pursuit. I reached safety and ventured out after a few ehn to see if he was still around. I glanced up to see if I could see the bird and noticed in the distance the tarn and its obnoxious rider sitting on the roof of the inn. They seemed to be awaiting the return of the prey, namely me.
I went back in and started cooking for my Master and vowed not to venture out for the rest of the day. My Master thought the bruise on my ass was from an overzealous paga drinker and I did not elaborate on its origins. Let sleeping sleens lie is a motto that has saved my bruised ass on many an occasion.
From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 158