Archive for March, 2016

ASK TEAL ~ Dubious Advice to Goreans

Thursday, March 31st, 2016


Picture: Ianda on the Isle of Landa from far

ASK TEAL – Dubious Advice to Goreans

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

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

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

How are the bosk? Are the quivas sharp?

Thursday, March 10th, 2016


Ianda Carnival

Thursday, March 10th, 2016



Tuesday, March 1st, 2016


[16:28] Petra Weksler (Petra) had returned to her work. She picked the censer out of the bucket, still smoking and waved it back and forth in small movements before the opening of the hive, calming the bees so she could harvest the honey without being stung, at least, without being stung too much. She kept her ears open to try and hear what was spoken, even as she lifted the top of hive to begin pulling the honey dripping frames, one by one, shaking the slow moving bees off them and then dropping them into the bucket that sat at her feet, you know, the one that the censer had been sitting in. Hearing the squeak coming from the long grass, she glanced over, paused her work long enough to pinch off just a small corner of honeycomb and tossed it toward the snow lart, hoping to tempt it a little with the sweet chew. She didn’t react at all to the Jarl directing the merchant to another man, simply continuing with her work, though she strained her ears to hear, glancing over when mead was mentioned. (…)

[16:38] Petra Weksler (Petra) paid no attention to the slave girl, as was her habit when dealing with bonds, unless she needed some use of them for heavy lifting. She glanced from the corner of her eye toward the lart, keeping her smile at the behavior hidden by keeping her face turned away from the others, trying to blend into the background by keeping herself busy. She’d greet the Jarl’s kin when the time was right, and that was not this time. (…)

[16:45] Morrgain Blackhawk (мσяяιgαη ÐąŗĸŦǔȓɏ) perked a brow watching the odd slave stand there like a scarecrow, Morrigan would glance at her mate and then to her son keeping her thoughts to herself. She did however reach into the bag her mate held and took a date from it. Popping it in her mouth, it wa sa decent flavor to say the least. Her mate stated what she thought was odd and she simply nodded her head in silence.

[16:45] Petra Weksler (Petra) replaced the full frames with empty ones, taking her time so she could listen, but there was a point where it would become obvious and she did have a lot of work to do before the end of the day if she was going to keep her promise to the Jarl to have a fresh batch of mead within three weeks so, she picked up the bucket of full honeycomb frames and walked into the brewery.

[Playing an animal:]
[16:48] Ignis Wildmist (Mjallhvít) she would enjoy the little honey she would manage to lick from the honey comb that laid at the ground and her dark snout would glistering with a trail of honey and it would seem the little lart had found a new kind of food to her liking. Then she would notice some more humans standing close to her and suddenly she would dash away again as fast she could into the tall grass (…)

[16:55] Petra Weksler (Petra) had woven a fresh reed sieve the night before and had soaked it and let it dry to tighten the reeds so she could press the honeycomb into it and silently sighed as she realized that even though the slats through the wooden walls were wide enough to easily see what was beyond, she couldn’t hear because of the buzzing in the hives now that bees were waking up again from their earlier smoking. Nothing she could do about that so no use grumbling about it. Focusing on her work, she carefully began extracting the honey from the comb.