The Voice of Gor

Kasra’s winery now sells Ka-La-Na. The winery is located in the northeastern suburbs of Kasra/Fayeen on the river Cartius.

[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.

^{Gorean Tarn rider}

[Taken from the VOICE OF GOR Seventh volume (year), issue No. 326]

by Oisin, head Physician of Kasra – Fayeen

Torvaldslanders did not speak Danish, Norwegian, Swedish or any other Scandic language – they only spoke Gorean

It is also believed that the Pani spoke Japanese – not only is that NOT in the books, it actually says (in Swordsmen of Gor) that anyone who did use Japanese was killed by blue flame: “We must learn their language or be destroyed,” said Lord Nishida. “Some recalcitrants and zealots were consumed by fire, streaming from the sky.” Again (apart from titles used, which wouldn’t exist in Gorean, no Japanese words were used – they also ONLY used ‘Tal’ to greet.

Apart from people living in the far north, Goreans did not wear trousers but robes or tunics with sandals – they certainly didn’t have cargo pants and combat boots. Generally caste colours were worn (they liked colourful outfits). The only people who would dress in black would be assassins. Obviously, tarnsmen (which is not a caste or even a sub-caste and is anyone flying a tarn and not restricted to warriors) would have protective clothing while flying as would anyone riding a tharlarion (they wore thigh high boots as protection). When not fluing or riding, they weore normal Gorean clothes. Pirates did NOT run round with tricorne hats, eye patches or wooden legs – they dressed like ordinary Goreans (and didn’t talk like bad Johnny Depp impersonators either).

Not all Goreans ran round carrying weapons. Warriors carried a short sword, similar to the Roman gladius. There was a longer sword (similar to the Roman calalry spatha) used by riders of the high tharlarion. Apart from the Pani, they did not use a ka ta na (and were very unlikely to acquire one). As far as SL goes, all swords cause equal damage and are equal in range, so why do people run round with some extremely strange looking weapons? As far as bows are concerned, thew ONLY time a warrior would use one would be while flying a tarn (and it would be a crossbow and not a longbow). Guardsman (who were NOT members of the warrior caste – only their officers were) would have crossbows (it is easier to lean to point and squeeze than it is to use a sword or a longbow). They also did NOT wear armour:
“…I would have supposed that armor, or chain mail perhaps, would have been a desirable addition to the accouterments (sic) of the Gorean warrior, but it had been forbidden by the Priest-Kings….”
“…Incidentally, speaking of the crossbow and longbow, I did receive some instruction in them, but not much. The Older Tarl, my redoubtable instructor in arms, did not care for them, regarding them as secondary weapons almost unworthy for the hand of a warrior….” Later on it’s stated that the only armour was a Greek style helmet and a shield – no greaves, breastplates, backplates, caudrons or anything else. Goreans were not Roman warriors.

Goreans were xenophobic – remember that the word for ‘stranger’ was also the word for ‘enemy’. Additionally, Gor was a very big place. It took Tarl weeks to travel to places like Schendi, the Barrens, Turia, etc. People didn’t waltz down on an overnight trip and companion one of the locals. They were more likely to end up dead or collared in a mine, never mind having children who visited relatives at the opposite ends of Gor on a day trip. The strangestone is people who claim to be ‘Mamba’. Mamba isn’t a race or a tribe – it’s the Ushindi word for a cannibal. Anyone who thinks one of their parents is a Mamba is sadly delusional – they would have had the other parent for dinner instead of having their offpring.

Regarding place names. While I can see the point in some non-Gorean placenames, using something just ‘because it’s in the book’ isn’t really a good idea. A couple of examples would be ‘Lar Torvis’ – that’s the Sun and nobody lives there. ‘Axe Fiord’ – Axe is a glacier and nobody in their right mind is going to found a village on a sheet of moving ice. Using names like ‘Pembe’ or ‘Iskander’ is odd – those were PEOPLE and not places. There are plenty of names in the books that seem to be unused, so why invent ones?

Gorean ships were closer in appeance to 15/16th century galleys with lateen (triangular) sails and oar banks with a ram at the prow. They were NOT 17th century square riggers.

The members of the Southern Trade alliance (STA) had a meeting in Kasra – Fayeen, first day of the seventh passage hand of the month of En’Kara of the year 10170 Contasta Ar (12th of October 2019 barbarian calendar).

The city of Meqara has been voted in as new member.

The assembly of the Southern Trade Alliance (STA) decided and announced:

SOUTHERN TRADE ALLIANCE – MAGNA CARTA

I

We vow to to promote Justice, ensure domestic tranquility, provide for trade with safety of passage, promote the general well-being, and secure the Blessings of the Priest Kings upon the members of this Alliance.

This Southern Trade Alliance was forged for the lands and sands to band together, build trade, and unify the southern lands of Gor. The Alliance encourages mutual trade investments between the member’s ports, cities, caravans and oasis. All transactions will be withheld to the highest regard. Any disagreements shall be brought to the attentions of the Southern Trade Alliance, to be worked out by it’s members. Merchant caste law will be followed, due to the expanse land territories and mobility of the caravan’s.

II.

The Assembly of the Southern Trade Alliance (STA) is an advisory and regulatory body, established with the common aim of protecting trade between ports and cities uphold the Merchant Laws of Gor, and will enforce them. The Assembly will consider, amongst other things, the fairness and legitimacy of trading practices and will offer its recommendation on improving standards towards the prosperity of all members. Under those circumstances where the laws have been breached, the Assembly of STA members will provide for a civilized resolution of the dispute in an impartial court. Cities that comply with the Merchant laws will be aided in acquiring contract, preventing loss of profits of homestones.

III.

There will be regulary trade summits in varies ports and submissions of export and Import lists with patents pending approval. All members will agree to honour the patents of other members of this Assembly of STA members and not produce their products, giving Gor a more authenticity in trade. The Commission is subject to the duties, obligations, liabilities and limitations of the merchant laws of Gor. Each City will conduct themselves with honor above all and any disputes handled by an impartial magistrate or scribe must be accepted..

IV.

Petitioning Members must have the sponsorship of an existing member cities before a vote can be held. The Petitioning Member must read and agree to this Charter and uphold the Merchant Laws of Gor. The Petitioning Member will be visited by Members for observation.

V.

Membership is by Majority Vote.

To establish a quorum a simple majority is required. For example: 10 members would require six voting members present. Six members would require four voting members. If we have 10 members and five members are present that would not make a quorum. Half the body is not a quorum.

written by Ibn Saran, Salt Ubar, and Angel Firethorn, High Pasha of the Oasis of Sand Sleen

View of Al Tariq (location)

Oasis of Klima (restricted access)

The House of Yuroki Company and the refugees of Ianda recently arrived in Kasra at the juncture of the Upper and Lower Fayeen river.

At its northwestern corner lay Tor, West of Tor, on the Lower Fayeen, a sluggish, meandering tributary, like the Upper Fayeen, to the Cartius, lay the river Port of Kasra, known for its export of salt.

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.

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.

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.

TALES OF A DESERT SLAVE CHAPTER 3

by Moon (daria.galicia)

Silvered in the light of the three moons the caravan reached a convergence of three tracks. The road had become more rocky with each pasang with shrubs and grasses interspersed. They halted, the drovers and tenders along with the few guards riding the length calling all to dismount. The slave scrambled to her knees and pulled back the curtain of the kurdah, peering out and catching the attention of one of the burly guards, a Guard of the Dunes no less, one of the Salt Ubars’ whose dark eyes would slowly travel over what could be seen of her and she in return gave him a smile under her eyes, for after all was she not kajira!? When suddenly her owner shouted as he sat high in the red leather of his kaiila saddle

“GET BACK INSIDE” and rode off along the line disappearing in a swirl of dust. The girl sighed heavily and leaned back on her cushions, it had been soo long, soo long since she had seen that look, the look that told her she was desired. Her new owner had fed her well, at every rest stop, at every encampment but apart from the occasional jesting with her and the fact he was constantly busy with other merchants and his business and suchlike had made no attempt to claim her for his and now her enforced imprisonment within the kurdah had given her time for reflection. She let her hands run the length of her body, over the slightly rounded belly, and the now not so bony hips and turning to one side let them slide softly over a thigh and her high, well rounded bottom, as she fell back she caressed her breasts, full and firm once again and aching for a masters touch…a mouth. Moaning, she tossed and turned as semi-dreaming the masters that had claimed her appeared , the Khan, the Khan of her people, for she was Tajuk slave born and for whom as a young girl she was trained to dance, serve and become desirous for and how that night he had made her kajira. The Kavars who had raided, killed, enslaved and dispersed the tribe and them sorely using her before selling her on. And him, her beloved master whom she lived to serve, and in that moment her heart and slave belly ached for him and her loss.

“CLIMB DOWN” it was the harsh voice of her owner and she crawled out and slipped to the unforgiving stony ground at his feet, kneeling, head lowered in anticipation of some punishment , kissing his feet now and truthfully she felt to beg for the whip if only to remind her of who and what she was and not for its pain, but for its proof of her domination, that she was owned, and wholly, and was going to be mastered.

“Remove the slave djelleba, and wear this” he flung the black haik at her and standing she hurridly did so, she could see his eyes on her as she pulled the haik over her head and her nakedness, and peered through the small, black lace screen at him. “Lift the hem” he bent and placed a chain on her, one with a bell a light walking chain that would tether her ankles.

“We will camp here for some days, I have trading to do, make the camp”, and with that he turned briskly placing the key in his pouch as he did so walking to his other kaiilas, the ones that carried his goods, and to the the drovers who tended them. The slave made the tent in a shelter trench of which many were scattered about, she glanced about for there were no buildings and would ask where the well was sited and carefully she would step down the crumbling steps filling some botas and returning to start the fire, not one person looked upon her now, dressed in the haik of the Tahari.

“So girl, where so you think we are headed?” he enquired of her as he spooned their frugal pot of sa-tarna meal and dates into two bowls.

“My Master, I have visited Tor just once with my former Master but this was not the route we took, so I am confused, I have heard much but know nothing other than the desert Master”.

He smiled and nodded as he spooned the last into his mouth. “Well, the road to the right would take us to Tor to the left many, many pasangs and much danger to Turia, oh speaking of Turia, I have just purchased some silk from some Turian merchants. You may remove the haik to eat” and he passed her the second bowl. So the slave sat there naked and shivering somewhat even though they were next to the fire for the night had truly descended upon them now and ate as she bid and she puzzled on his words.

“Well, the middle road which we will take will lead us to the river port of Kasra” the slave looked up.

“I have never seen a river Master!” her eyes wide now with anticipation “oh its a slow, meandering one, the Lower Fayeen, not a notable river to speak of but there the merchants do ship their goods far and wide and I have a goodly amount of pressed dates and salt pillars thats for sure! Ibn Saran does not have them all and I even have found me some silk, oh and I almost forgot, a Tahari slave, that cost me nothing and might be seen as an exotic by some furthur North, course we will have to have you scrubbed clean, have that wild hair washed and combed and have you perfumed, might make you more sellable” he chuckled and tapped the side of his nose and grinned at her. she would have delighted in the fact he was in a better mood now but his last words unsettled her.

“I have heard there are Masters in the North who live in dark caves and are covered in hair and smell of bosk fat Master, is this true?” she would reply most earnestly with wide and questioning eyes for the thought of them had filled her with horror and the merchant nearly choked on the verr milk he was drinking spitting it about and all over her… tears of laughter running down his cheeks as he slapped his thigh.

“Slave, you amuse me….”

TALES OF A DESERT SLAVE CHAPTER 2

The lumbering tharlarion swayed beneath her, rocking the pathetic slaves little body into slumber, Occasionally she would wake, blinking her eyes and sip water from the bota, placed nearby for her but the gentle undulation of the huge beast would send the exhausted slave back to sleep once more. Dreams overcame her, The merchant would cock an ear as they rode, her whimpers reaching him. He thought he might sell her for use as a pot slave for she was skinny indeed and truly not worth the effort but he had made a promise, he was a man of honour after all and with that in mind would lift her from the tharlarion and feed her gruel and dates in some attempt to keep her alive. He was disappointed for the last of villagers had ransacked the mans’ house before they had left and this was all they had left, the dying man having told him to take all if he would save his slave.

She, meanwhile, was tortured by dreams, dreams of running and hiding in the rocks of the dunes as they raided her Masters home, and them taking all the fine things she had so lovingly cared for, even their verr which she had tried so hard to feed and keep alive. And it was then she had realized she might die here, all alone. She saw the Zads circling silent and menacing above her, their huge wings casting a dark shadow and she swat at the sting flies as she dragged herself back to the empty house and to what she thought was her slow death and curled up in the corner of the now empty house until he had come, he who would save her!

They were now in an Oasis, a large one, and she sat up, gripping the straps that encircled the beast beneath her for they were entering a square with an Inn and she smiled for she knew from past experience that here she might be well fed and have the opportunity to bathe as she could hardly look at the man who brought her here, ashamed of what she had become. And so it was, he pulled her down and gave her to a woman” feed her well, have her bathe and clothe her in something more becoming than those rags then put her to work as payment” he barked at her “its been a long journey and I have affairs to see too” And it was here they stayed for many days for it would seem the Salt Merchant was trading, she rarely saw him and she was put to work in their kitchens where she would glance out the window to an auction block and on one day she saw him talking there with a slaver, and she would wonder…

There were writings on some wood nailed up on the block, she couldn’t read the cursive Tahari script even though her former master had tried to teach her drawing them beautifully in the sands and he would laugh fondly at her endeavours but she was always distracted by his presence and she would tease her master’s eyes to her thighs with a flex of her supple, tanned legs and now she cursed herself for not learning them. The work was hard in the kitchens, big pots to be scrubbed and cleaned and to be carried to and from the fires, and always the mistress over her shoulder, her voice shrill and loud in her ears. Never had she been put to work so harshly and her little body ached, ached not only from the work but also for what she once was, she reasoned that after all she was still alive right? and her body and skills worthy of the attention of any master. She had been trained well, even though she did not always realize that was so. And she reminded herself, she had never been trained those years past to be a lazy slave.

All the same she fell to the floor sobbing into her hands as she wondered if this was to be her life when suddenly she felt fingers grabbing at her collar on the back of her neck and yanking her to her feet “Lazy slave, I might be selling you” it was the familiar voice of the master who had saved her and chuckling he threw her over his shoulder as he made his way out of the hot kitchen. “no need to cry kajira, I will not be leaving you here, I made an oath remember?” and with that they left the Inn and into the courtyard where he pushed her up and into a kurdah, atop a sand kaiila, the kurdah covered completely with layers of white rep cloth, to reflect the sun, with the exception of the front, which was closed with a center-opening curtain, also of white rep-cloth. She pulled back the curtain as she sat on a silk cushion and watched as the master stood in his much larger and heavily laden kaiilas’ stirrups and pulled his burnoose over his head and with the wind carrying the pleasing sound of caravan bells she knew then that they were in for a long journey and eventually catching them up they joined the long, slow moving line that moved into the red sliding sands and northward.