The Voice of Gor

The monthly meeting of the true Southern Trade alliance (STA) took place at the city of Jasmine. at the Vosk river.

Present: Oasis of Klima, Kasbah of the Guard of the Dunes, Oasis of Sand Sleen, Oasis of Nine Wells, Kasra / Tyros, Tharna, Tabuk’s Ford, Phoenix Trading Company, House of Yuroki Company. As guests City of Jasmine, City of Victoria, Village of Abydos, Velox Delivery Service / Tancred’s Landing. Kasra / Fayheen excused.

TOPICS AND DECISIONS

– VIGO / STA SALT DECREE
(confidential]

– KANDA TRADE

[15:18] Rarius Yuroki [Yuroki Uriza]: lifts his hand shrugging: just a question: “are we able to control the kanda trade? Merchants who are trading with Kanda should get a receipt from us that they have purchased Kanda legally and not from smugglers…”

[15:21] SARAN [Ries Kurka] speaks loud and clear “it will be impossible to do that Yuroki, quantities involved is very limited, you can hide it in a kaiila’s ass even, how would you control the trade except if it is centrally bought, but we are spread all over the tahari and south of Gor?”

[15:22] Rarius Yuroki [Yuroki Uriza]: “I must admit that, and perhaps a decree about Kanda trade would make us ridiculous.”

[15:24] ƙʋʋɾʋʂ [SireLion Diabolito]: yes regulating but if you stop the kanda’s trade the war you would avoid could come
[15:25] ƙʋʋɾʋʂ [SireLion Diabolito]: you have to find a middle way

[15:31] Ɗąɱɨɛɳ Ǥřɛƴ [Kreon71 Resident] “I already told Abydos opinion, let the kanda flow and then we can conquer. we are getting fat sitting on our asses doing nothing and letting the merchants rule.”

[15:32] Rarius Yuroki [Yuroki Uriza]: “very well, i withdraw my proposal about a Kanda decree then, perhaps the Pasha of Nine Wells should recommend another kind of regulation the next time”

[15:32] SARAN [Ries Kurka] nods “I also support that view, no control on the kanda, Tharna can do as they wish in their territory”

– NEW STA MEMBERS

The City of Victoria, the head quarters of the Vosk League, and and the City of Jasmine are new full members of the true Southern Trade Alliance. They have been voted unanimously in.

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

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, 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)

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

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

Picture: Shipwreck, near the mouth where the Olni river flows into the Vosk

by Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni

I am making preparations for a trip that my Master is to embark upon and taking me with, but I am not being told where he is going. To be sure, my Master knows, the Priest-Kings know but as I look around the city, there is no one else who knows anything more about this. On my way to the market I dropped by the docks to inquire of the captain of the ship ‘Lucy’ where his floating emporium of ripe smells would be headed in the next few days. The captain, one Philomen of Cos, looked as though he had gastric problems and did not answer my inquiry. There was a small boy, a cabin boy, who told me that they were sailing down the Olni, to the mighty Vosk and out into the waters of gleaming Thassa.

I felt panic since I am a white knuckle traveler on the shipping lanes of Gor. The hazards are myriad, from man eating sea sleen to river tharlarion. If you have never seen a free woman or man fall overboard and meet their death by one of these creatures, you haven’t lived. I would prefer that my Master hire a tarn to take us wherever he is traveling to.

Now that I knew the direction in which he was proceeding I conjectured that he might be travelling to Port Cos. It was probably going to be a long river and Thassa journey and that is why the provisions he had me buy were many and varied. I took out clean piece of rence paper and wrote down the ever growing list that my Master was insisting I purchase.

It was a little disconcerting because many of these provisions needed to be cooked which means I had to pack a large stew pot and other vessels used for steeping and baking. I have travelled before. Sometimes I have stayed at inns around Gor while accompanying the Master. This is the best way to travel. There is something to be said about staying in a four star inn and having room service. The proprietors of these inns, my Master books on travels, are very knowledgeable of the type of service my Master expects.

He is sent the best foods the area has to offer and the cutest of slave boys for me to flirt with. These Inn Keepers are not blind to MY needs in that department. While my Master is sleeping with a sumptuous repast in his tummy, I am off playing Strip Zar with the slave boys. This beats traveling to a place where I have to use someone else’s kitchen to set up shop to prepare my Master’s meals.

Now that we are travelling on a ship I will have to use the galley of the vessel and try to get my Master’s meals prepared before the ship’s cook comes in to prepare the bread, onions, and peas for the crew. I always hesitate to use the galley’s on ships my Master embarks on. The small spaces that are allocated to these floating kitchens make excellent traps where the cooks can grab me and have a go.

I must be off shopping for now and will finish telling this on going story next week.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 141

Picture: The new headquarters of the NEW VOICE OF GOR, Tancred’s Landing

by Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni

This week I felt compelled to pen this observation. I will not reveal the name of my source. I will not reveal any information even close to sounding like a name. And, it is my fervent hope that the people who recognize themselves, in this story, take heed. They will be secure in the fact that I will never expose them. For in the end, we all eventually expose ourselves.

I must say that I always have a case of “the nerves” when I am needed for serving in the commons. It is not that I dislike serving, for I am commanded to serve all free by my Master, a most generous and kind Master. The fear of displeasing my Master though, by displeasing a free person is not a situation I care to experience. This guilt by proxy is unnerving to say the least. My Master’s sense of justice is swift and fueled only by his certain knowledge that a transgression has taken place. He is none to kind with the use of the lash at this point. So, on the whole, I would say, I will not, under any circumstances, cause a constipated look on my Master’s face. He will only have relief of his constipation when he beats the shit outta ME.

Well, that is neither here nor there. The fact is, there are many things I love about serving. One is the view you are afforded. It is a view that most never experience inside the city. Where else can you see the latest styles as worn by the free women and the new weapons purchased from the metal workshops around Gor.

If I may digress for a moment, it is inherent in me to ogle the swords and bows that men carry. I am spellbound by tales of weapons, combat and war. There are certain reasons for this but that is another story.

But, then again, I am just as fascinated by the rich materials that the beautiful free women use to adorn themselves. The fabrics and decoration are just as mesmerizing as the sharpened steel blades.

The commons is also a place where there is food cooking, fruits on display, casks of strong drink and bottles of sweet Turian wine. And, the prime mover for serving in the commons, the proximity to cake. It is here also, that a variety of Gorean life parades in an ever changing tableau of dialects, colors, customs, and personalities.

Everyone who is anyone comes through the gates of Port Olni. Only the riff raff, for example, Trevian raiders on tarns, fly down from the walls.

So the gates being in front of the commons offers you a changing view of Goreans in various modes of undress.

The commons is the hub of any city. Visitors bring news of other neighboring and faraway places they have traveled to. It is also an amusing place where the free and slave gossip and flirt. These stories make ripe telling when a Master is bored and commands you to entertain him.

I always strive to please the free. It is actually a win win situation. I please them, they feed me. Sometimes I get candy and cream cakes.

Now because the commons is the heart of the city and the cross roads of the town, it is fitting for this important place to have an air of quiet and professional dignity. Craftsmen, even now, are drawing up new plans for the transformation of this port city. I am told that broad plaza’s of stone and tile will be set down shortly.

I believe the architectural firm of Buildem and Pray has been engaged once more to edit and reedit the city’s monuments. They may be having problems choosing which edifices, built by past architects who have “bit the City of Dust”, to eradicate from the skyline.

It was within such a scene that I overheard the most flagrant disruption of the space time continuum as ever there was.

A merchant who does business trading in the northern forests was elaborating about his recent encounter with a panther tribe. He has done commerce with this tribe on his trade route and makes it into their lands about every six months. There is no wonder that he is not captured and made a thrall but his rotundity makes him ill equipped for waiting on a panther hand and foot.

The merchant was giving a warning to all present and even asked to have an audience with the Ubar and the Commander of Port Olni. He wanted one and all to hear of a warning he brought back from the north. It seems this panther tribe he deals with has gone rogue. Their members have become true man-haters. This misandry was spreading like a disease through the tribe. Former panthers who were mainly interested in honing their hunting skills and capturing hapless males who wandered past their borders, were now crying for blood. They were planning a full scale attack on a large city on the Olni River. Their plan was to kill as many men as they could and then capture the free women and slaves. Only the Priest-Kings would know what could ensue then.

As ludicrous as this sounds coming from the Falstaffian merchant, the man was unnerved enough to quaff his libation with a shaking hand. He told of a horrific scene he witnessed when two free persons were brought into the panther camp. The captured free man was assaulted by derision and stripped naked. His companion was tied and made to watch the disgusting display of misanthropic vengeance. After much abuse and punches to his genitalia, the man’s throat was cut. His companion looked on helpless. Her wails were heard all through the forest. The merchant, not having weapons or the authority to stop this, fled the scene.

It seems that there were just a few rotten apples in this panther camp that were causing the psyches of the others to whither and rot as theirs had. The merchant stopped in Olni to entreat the administration to send warriors and a magistrate to put down this dangerous uprising. He was begging anyone who would listen to help him arm himself and put together a battalion of free men and warriors to bring the murderous women to justice.

I was chilled to my core after hearing this and sat closer to a brazier to warm myself. When most of the commons cleared out except for a warrior and a slave who were feeling each other up in a corner, I ran home and waited for my Master’s return.

When the door opened I set about helping him remove his gear and when he was relaxed I related the story of the merchant in the commons. I could see the anger in his eyes. He told me if it was a true story, the warriors of Olni would wipe that tribe off the face of Gor. After saying this he put his heavy cloak on and took off for the Ubar’s office in the admin cylinder.

I smiled because I could feel safe in the knowledge that retribution would be swift. To sum it up for the poor panther’s who brought this on, “payback’s a bitch.”

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 140

Picture: New Tancred’s Landing

by Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni

DEAR TEAL:
I am a slave who has committed a blunder and I need to know how to come out of it smelling like a rose. It concerns my Master’s signet ring. This ring was passed down from his Great Grandfather, to his son, my Master’s grandfather and subsequently to my Master’s father, who, at one point in his life was held captive in Port Kar. He knew that if his captors in Port Kar found the ring, it would have been confiscated and melted down. The way his Father looked at it, this ring was his son’s birthright. He’d be damned if any pirates were gonna put their greasy hands on his boy’s birthright, so he hid it, in the one place he knew he could hide something: his ass. Five long years, he wore this signet ring up his ass. Then, before he died, he gave the signet ring to my Master.

I was playing with this ring and dropped it. An urt ran out and picked it up in its teeth and off he ran to I know not where. Help me.

DEAR CLUMSY OAF:
Your whole question smacks of another time and place. I am recalling a movie I saw on earth that had a segment in it that gave a similar recounting. It matters not that you know what a movie is, but just take it from me….this will not be easy to solve without using a grand set of prevarications.

When you think about it, the urt could have jumped up on the table and taken the ring just on principle. Since for every warm body on Gor, there exists at least two urts, the possibility of having an urt problem in one’s abode is very real. Your urts are rather bold to surface in the light of day.

What I am going to give you is a series of plausible lies that can be used to cover your own rear end. Yes, yes, I know that slaves should never lie and this one will not quite be a lie. You will just have to leave out the part of the story that set you in the middle and close the gaps.

How about you start crying profusely when your Master returns, telling him you were cleaning when an urt jumped up on the desk and ran off with the signet ring. This first scenario totally absolves you from blame and your Master’s wrath will be turned against the filthy, furry thief.

My second scenario includes you taking the ring to the local gemstone dealer for a good cleaning. This will give you time to set up traps inside and outside the house to try and catch the obnoxious creature. Of course, you have no ring to take to the jeweler so you will have to concoct a story of believable magnitude to prevent him from going off to the jeweler to reclaim his precious piece.

But let’s get back to the trapping of the disgusting filth that absconded with the ring in the first place. If you tell your Master and urt ate it or that you took it to the jeweler, it does not matter since either way you can still put out traps everywhere in the house further implicating the urt and covering your proverbial ass.

I would use as bait that smelly comestible known as bosk milk cheese. Urts are crazy about it and no doubt the ring itself was perceived to be a smelly treat by the urt since Master’s are not given to frequent hand washing. Hence their hands smell like moldy cheese. Once you catch the vermin, you will know what to do, namely deprive it of the life it almost cost you. The ring should be inside its intestines as I don’t think an urt’s anal opening is big enough to pass a ring of that size. It might be shrewd of you to enlist the help of another slave. Just make sure the other does not know of your ruse since they would be punished for your transgression also.

Good luck with the ring. If you find it, ask your Master to keep it firmly wedged in between his buttocks for safekeeping. Except if he is captured in Treve, the ring will definitely be discovered straightway.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 139

by Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni

I am sitting downstairs in my Master’s house next to a brazier keeping warm. It is snowing on and off in Port Olni and the ground has been covered for a couple of weeks with it. I can remember the snow on earth and how it would get kinda dirty in a couple of days with a layer of soot over it.

The snow here on Gor is a different animal. Since there is no petrochemical particulate in the air, the snow remains pristine for a long while. The only discoloration on the snow are the urine pools the warriors deposit on their rounds. I figure they have to go somewhere and I have yet to see a Porta Potty inside the city of Olni. I don’t mind seeing this as it is a natural occurrence. What isn’t natural are the fantastical pictures these urine taggers leave behind. The other day, while walking to the admin cylinder, I was knocked backwards by the sight of an etching into the snow made by some pisser, of our sainted Ubar using the rear end of a tharlarion as a sexual toy. For all I know it could have been the Ubar himself who painted this tableau because not a minute later the Ubara walks by rolling her eyes and was heard to chuckle at the indecorous piss painting.

Well, so much for warriors. My mind was actually going over the arrival of the Initiate in Olni. He had been gone for more than a year. Because of his return, the Ubara wanted to see to the comfort of the Blessed One, a man called Noventum. The Temple in Olni lies outside the city gates in a lovely park by the river. I enjoy going out the back on warm days to swim in the river and ogle the Assassin’s lair. The Temple lies quite near the hidey hole in which one of our black caste members camouflages his nasty self. I never could figure out why the assassin shared the same neighborhood as the Initiate. Then it dawned on me that the representative of the Priest-Kings needs to be in proximity to the person who executes their direct orders. It helps to just “walk across the street”, so to speak, than getting in a boat or caravan or tarn. All that, just to visit the person you are giving the name of a target he is being paid to murder.

And so out of convenience was born beauty. The Temple in Olni is a stunning example of a respectful house in which to worship. The insides, from what I have determined by looking through the doorway, are lined with white alabaster. The sacrificial area has the simplicity and richness that only the use of quality stone in its construction can lend to such a solemn place. I have found the stairs leading up to the temple to be a little less than grand for such a high minded plaza. There is a nice colonnaded walkway around the building.

The Ubara set about, with her free woman friends, to clean and polish everything to a spotlessly high sheen. Slaves are not allowed in the Temple, even to clean. The circular doorway surrounds and the matching one inside the building are silver. I have always thought them quite lovely myself but I heard the initiate say they should actually be gold. Such as it is, the Ubara then turned her attention to the residence of the Initiate. In anticipation of his arrival the Blessed One sent his belongings by ship ahead of him. The contents were unloaded at the docks and carried to the building where the Initiate was to live. I was allowed into the home with some other city slaves and the Ubara’s boy. We were to help her place the pieces to have it look as pleasing as possible for the Initiate’s eyes.

I was a little disconcerted by the inactivity of the Ubara’s boy as he looked on at myself and some other small women slaves while we moved furniture from one wall to another to satisfy the Ubara’s sense of perfect placement. I greeted the thrall with glares throughout the process and he, in turn fingered the whip on his belt as he glared back at me.

The other two slaves and I cleaned and polished everything while the Ubara laid a fire for him. It had the look of quiet dignity when we finished.

The day of Noventum’s arrival was quite a confusing one. He came at a time when only the gate guard was present. The rest of the city was holed up in their homes keeping warm next to the hearth or in meeting in various rooms in government offices. The city was a virtual ghost town. The guard placed the Blessed One in front of a brazier so he could warm himself as the warrior marched off to find the Ubara. The uniformed guard burst into the basement chamber of the administration cylinder where he knew the Ubara would likely be and scared the tarsk crap out of me. I was taking down notes as the head of the Revel’s Committee droned on and on about how the Winter Solstice festival needed all of our concentration and would I please stop scratching myself. Breathlessly the guard informed the Ubara and all present that the White Caste Initiate was indeed warming his backside in the commons. He pleaded with the Ubara to come greet him.

The sainted woman rushed off, pulling her cloak around her, to see the defrosting guest in the commons. When she came back we were all startled to see that she had the Initiate in tow. He seemed like a pleasant fellow, bald and dressed all in white he matched the snow on the ground outside. The Ubara introduced the man to all and I quickly learned to refer to him as Blessed One. This was not a Master. I believe only Master’s make use of us in the furs. Initiates are not eunuchs to be sure but they put their sexual thoughts to a higher purpose.

I was quite amused when the Blessed One chimed right up in the meeting informing us of all his contacts in other cities that could help the committee in its plans. These were politely accepted by the members. I think when there are considerable distances between cities, one would have to plan a year ahead to contact friends in other towns to obtain their planning help.

I kept popping honey candies in my mouth which made the quill I was writing with kind of sticky. The Initiate raised his eyebrows at the sight of me sucking on my fingers to dissolve some of the sticky goodness from them. The meeting concluded and we all went our separate ways. I departed for the commons where the slave bell was being rung for a slave to come serve. I started serving two visitors to Olni who had delusions of grandeur. One of them was so pompous that he would not speak to me to give me his order. His other royal highness, presumably his friend, told me in no uncertain terms that he would be speaking for his majesty and proceeded to order two warm pagas.

He used the royal “we” as I walked away, all the while making comments about my rear end. I tried my best to find the nicest bowls and heated the paga up beautifully. I hurried back to the “king” and his “vassal” with a bowl of warm paga in each hand. I was greeted by a booming voice, it was coming from the Initiate. The Blessed One had found his way back to the commons and was demanding to be served by me. To say the hair turned white on my head, would have been an oxymoron as it is already platinum. I wondered whether I should just drop the bowls with a clatter on the stones and turn to fulfill his order. I was saved in a way by the two strangers who challenged the Blessed One. They shouted at him that they had been there first and he could damned well wait his turn. These royal personages declared themselves Pani. The Pani have a different belief system much like the Japanese sense of giri which connotes obligation to others whether public or private.

They did save my neck though. But, as a consequence the Initiate stormed off. It took a few days for the White Caste member to speak to me again. When he did though, it must have been after an epiphany he had regarding one slave having to face a commons full of people and deciding who gets what, when. He is really a kind man and had me take down a decree to be posted in the city. He wants all free and slave alike to knock on his residence door and feel welcome. In this time of dwindling attendance by the high caste it seems logical to appeal to the low caste who are fervent in their superstitious beliefs in the powers on high. Fresh congregants are needed to fill prayer rosters and what better way to do that, than appealing to the most faithful. He even told me he would give slave catechism classes as long as he could do it standing behind a screen so he would not have to look at the abomination we slave’s are.

As I think back on this, I am pleased at myself for establishing a bond of sorts with our new White Caste member. At least he will not blue flame me in the near future.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 138