Published: 1st September 2023
Part I
"Did you hear what's being said on the Grape Vine of late!"
Monthly independent publication with content from all around Gor.
Publisher: Amir Boa Nasrallah (ascendedyetagain)
Editor: Itahshy Sturdy (shyntylene.lauria)
Dear Reader,
Last moon, we welcomed a new prize contest – the Crossword. This moon, we're back with another delight – the Poetry Contest. We want to let you know that both these contests come with rewards for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place, including coin prizes (lindens!). To join in, read the contest details carefully in our info spot. Grab a scroll, put down your verses, and drop it in our mailboxes. If your town is far from us, worry not. Send your scroll through a courier to Genesian port. Make sure your name and home stone are on that scroll so we can find you when you win!
By the way, we heard some of you need more time for the Crossword Contest. So, we're extending it for another moon. You've got 25 days more to try your hand! Remember, the last day to enter the contests is the 25th of each moon.
For those using couriers to reach Genesian port, find us in the market area. As you step off your boat, look ahead, then to the right. Above the chocolate shop, you'll spot our sign.
Now, here's exciting news: We've opened a second shop in the northern village of HeimFjord. We heard some of you think Genesian port is quite a haul. From the docks, follow the wide road. You can't miss our shop on the right, with a big sign.
Thank you for your continued engagement and dedication to the art of language. We eagerly anticipate the influx of poetic brilliance and the forging of literary connections.
Kiosk's currently located in the following locations:
Brundisium
Genesian Port
Gimli Village
Graydon Falls
HeimFjord
Imperial Ar III
Laurius Exchange Point
Oasis of Two Scimitars
Port Nykus
Scanctuary's Rest
Skol
Tarn Ridge
Telnus
Temos
Venna!
More to be added soon!!
Sincerely,
Your Grapes.
Content:
1. Itah Sturdy, "A time to Remember"
2. Panner McDonnell, "Voyage to the End of the World"
3. Varnar the Trader, "Who is Lady Black" Part I
4. The Traveler, "Kajuralia, he yelled!"
5. Free Women Challenge, "Behind the Veils"
6. Lady Astarta Malverick feat. Genesian Crier #42, "Traveling infirmary"
7. Making the Labels - Your advertisements.
8. Thyri of Kassau, "HeimFjord"
9. Zoey Tenacious, "Words & Wine" Crossword Contest!
10. Tarl of Vonda, ""The Journey to Graydon Falls: A Tale of Hope and Resilience"
A Time To Remember,
by Itah Sturdy
Recently we lost a great member of our world in Gor, a man who was much loved amongst the community, even those that did not know him, wished they had known him. Would loved to have met him. I took a trip to Brundisium to find out more of this man, Blade, to learn of him. Out of respect I did not approach his Companion or children, they, as all, need time to mourn. Blade will be forever remembered.
Builders of Brundisium are working on a memorial where Blade and others we have lost over time may be remembered in a public area outside of the city.
I spoke with some members of the city, and, while I did not get to everyone, I did get a few words I would like to share from a few from Brundisium.
"I knew Blade for a few years myself. Of course many new him much longer. But, the memories I have of Blade are all good ones. He came to the city via Port Kar due to his loyalties to our Commander Augustus Bade. When Blade first arrived he was running a slave house here in the city but his skills with blade and sword lifted his caste to that of the warriors. He was always willing to help others in need when he was able, whether it be free or slave. Blade also was always up for a good fight whether it was with a band of panthers or others of a Gorean City. He was a man of Honor and someone you could always count on no matter how much pain he was in. In fact, the builders are working diligently on building a memorial along the Genesian Road, so family and friends can remember him and others that have gone to the city of dust before him."
- Thaddeus Dexing, Caste of Warriors, Ubar of Brundisium
"I know that Sir Blade's passing is a hard lose for many people here. I haven't had the honor to know him or ever meet him. I only saw how many remembered to him and gave him the last attention on his journey."
- Gunnolfur, Metal Worker of Brundisium
"Mistress..He was very good as a slaver and he was firm yet gentle with his dealings with slaves. He was helpful to all who knew him and always willing when I was in the City kennel to come and lend a hand if the kennel needed him. He is deeply missed and there is a hole in the hearts of many as we all remember him and how kind he was to all. All will remember him by his call out when raiding or participating in community activities which brought Joy to most all, and did lighten the mood of those he did spar with."
- Aphris, Kajira to Gunnolfur, the Metal Worker
"I accompanied my owner to the memorial, which was truly touching and impressive, Lady. Unlike seemingly everyone else, I did not know the man. Only in the last few hands have I come to this city myself... Well apparently he had a silly countdown he liked to do for no good reason. 5...4...3...2...1, people were doing over and over in imitation of him. Lots of speeches and tributes. Then a fire arrow igniting a small boat holding his body, the flames glowing on the water... I believe he was, or at least he liked the northern ceremonies, but that was pretty extravagant for a whim, and so many people showed up."
- Lysias, Kajirus of Lady Hessa of Brundisium
"... yes I did know of him being that I am the Captain of the city warriors here in Brundisium, I knew him as a strong and honorable warrior, we went on many raids together to show those panthers a thing or two when they tried to cause havoc here around our city... But alas i didn't know him past that... i didnt know him to well but he fought very bravely the last time we raided those pesky panthers"
- Alen Nyte, Captain of Brundisium
"... I didn't know the master well, but I did hear many speak kindly of him. I heard he was a kind soul, one who cared for others and took them into his home to assure them safety. He was a warrior of honor, among all other good things I heard of him. I pray the priest kings keep him safe, as well as all who loved him, and he can guide those people who are sad in a happy place again"
- Bella, Kajira of Alen Nyte, Captain of Brundisium
Unfortunately I was unable to reach out and meet with Commander Augustus to add his words to this memory of Blade, but I learned quite a lot myself. A man of Brundisium was a well loved man, and despite his illness, he did all he could, and worked hard, Blade was there for the people to protect them, to honour his city.
Voyage to the End of the World
by Panner McDonnell
Strangers come from afar to the dregs of Port Kar,
And one man was a terrible sight.
His cheeks blistered and red, his dry, cracked lips bled,
He muttered as he walked in the night.
I sat on a tavern's pier, the one that was most near,
Where a canal empties into the sea.
The moons made Thassa shimmer, gave his gaze a glimmer;
Like a hunting tarn, his eyes locked on me.
I admit I was shaken by the damage he had taken;
His hair had been singed down to the nub.
His arms were peeling and black, from a fiery attack.
He addressed me when he entered the pub.
"Hail there, good fellow!" he said with a bellow.
"I hope you don't think me a bore.
But if you spot me a bowl, I'll make your day whole
With a tale like none you've heard before."
Though his looks were reviling, his intro sounded beguiling -
What had caused his arms to burn and swell?
I had plenty of time, and being injured was no crime.
"So, for a paga bowl, please do tell!"
His grin made him look far worse, and if hunger were a verse,
I could hear his rhyme and read his book.
There was bread on the next table, he turned far as he was able,
And gave that loaf of bread a longing look.
I gave my fingers a snap, and a girl rushed to my lap.
She squirmed about and giggled with glee.
"Bring this man paga, bread, and butter," I managed to mutter.
"Get me one more, and then leave us be."
He was in the mood to just devour his food.
He sucked the butter right off the plate.
I finally said, as he stuffed his cheeks with bread,
"You should start before it gets too late."
He stood as if to leave, wiped his chin upon his sleeve,
Then plucked his tunic off of his charred skin.
He gave a thoughtful stare at a curl of burnt hair,
Sat back down, and said, "Let me begin."
"Now my mates and I were fishing, and all of us were wishing,
There was a bigger catch in our hold.
We were farther out to sea than most fishing boats should be;
We took risks, and loved to be so bold.
No competition way out here, only pirates to fear.
We looked and saw no one else in sight.
We bobbed on the empty vast, as I called out, "Last cast!"
'Fore we stored nets and called it a night.
Lur was up in the crow's nest, for his eyes were the best.
He could read a scroll a block away.
His eyes had locked on something at the horizon,
As the auburn light ended the day.
The sun was red and low, and gave Lur's face a glow,
Like he had just set sight upon a god.
His eyes were alight with some magnificent sight.
He shouted, pointed west, and gave a nod.
I held my hands above my brow, and tried to tell somehow
What it was through eyes that weren't so keen.
There was something there! But I couldn't dare,
Tell them what my meagre sight had seen.
Darek was next to spy what had caught Lur's eye;
He had good eyes although he was old,
Normally he was calm and mild, but he giggled like a child,
"It looks like a flying speck of gold!"
The men hauling on the net, hadn't seen it yet,
Their eyes were looking down into the sea,
Until I rang the ship's bell, and Darek began to yell.
They looked up to check what the fuss could be.
Farius was a good hand; he came from a foreign land,
Where the law and he seemed to disagree.
He cast our nets o'er the side, and it was no skin off my hide,
He chose to hide from the law on the sea.
Most days he'd barely utter a word, but now all the crew heard,
Him babble on about the wondrous sight.
"Can't believe what I seen; there's wings on that thing!
I swear that it has it's own source of light!"
His partner on the net, said, "It's just a star, I bet."
But Farius begged to disagree.
"Rin, a star that close to the sun? I'd like to know the one,
Bright enough in daylight for us to see."
The Central Fire hung low, then sank below,
The edge of Gor, and the gold dot grew dull.
It vanished from our sight, as the skies took on the night.
Hush seized the ship as we began to mull.
We sailed east all night, and right after first light,
We all stood looking at the morning glow.
We saw no flying speck, gleaming level with the deck,
The crew was silent as we went below.
We scratched heads and beards - was what we saw to be feared?
We talked all day and drifted on the waves.
"Twas a reflection of light-" "Not to my sight!
It's alive! A monster what kills and raves!"
I shook my head. "If it were that, we'd all be dead.
If it's alive, it might be worth a see.
Catch that glimmering light, and let the bidders fight.
Who knows how much money that might be?"
I don't have to mention, how that caught their attention.
In an ehn we agreed to the west we'd sail.
We'd return to Port Kar, out fit to go far,
We swore we'd stand together, win or fail.
That first heady day, as we sailed into the bay,
The Thassa smiled upon us like a child.
Her winds were soft and cool, but only a fool,
Would think the sea would try to stay so mild.
We enjoyed it while we could. At the stern I stood,
With the tiller grasped in my right hand.
The sun shone and the breeze blew. I thought, Only a sailor knew,
How a day at sea could be so grand.
I did my very best to keep the bow pointed west.
For it was the setting sun we would seek.
Steering was easy at first, but I knew when came the worst,
Manning the tiller was not for the weak.
One night a damp wind blew by, and thin clouds up high,
Along with swells coming from south-west.
Told all of us who knew that a storm was a'brew,
And the next few days would be a test.
I sent Lur and Farius below, as deep as they could go,
To place pump hoses for their best avail.
I kept Darek near, to help me steer,
Rin went aloft to tend to the sail.
In the mid watch that night we began our fight,
With a sea that did not want us there.
The waves would wash and try to fill her, as I clung to the tiller,
Soaked to the bone with sea salt in my hair.
I tied myself tight, inside a rope's bight,
And secured myself to the tiller post.
"More pumps!" I called out, as the storm tossed us about.
The wind was foul, but waves hurt us the most.
The rain cut and roamed, and the Thassa foamed,
And waves curled and crashed right up the mast.
The ship would shudder and we'd fall, and through it all,
We all wondered how long we could last.
A rogue wave swelled ahead! I knew we'd all be dead,
If that monster crashed upon our deck.
We shoved the tiller right, and held it there with all our might.
To see the crest I had to crane my neck.
The rudder was slow to reply, I felt we all would die,
As the rogue grew to twenty paces tall!
We climbed the wave's face, hung there with surprising grace,
Then our bowsprit pierced the surging wall.
I heard the main mast crack, then the ship was taken aback,
Derek hit the rail; he bled where he lay.
We nearly capsized that night, then, slowly, she began to right.
My ropes saved me from being swept away..
I heard the ship creak, and Lur's voice, thin and weak,
"Water's three-quarters high in the hold!"
The storm was still in full force, and kept battering us, of course.
It lashed us with a wind of biting cold.
We wallowed in swells deep and wide, listing hard to the starboard side,
I heard the pumps finally kick in.
That meant Lur and Farius were at least still with us.
Now other damage control could begin.
I squinted against the rain, and above me could see plain,
The main mast had sheared off above my head.
Ropes and debris trailed aft, beyond the reach of my gaff;
And I knew right then that Rin was dead.
I hope he died quick, before he swept beyond the deck
Clinging to a piece of broken spar.
With no land in sight, how long would he try to fight?
No hope of rescue being out this far.
Derek's face looked so pale, his head had hit the rail.
His eyes were crossed, and chock full of fear.
I gently checked him out, and soon I had no doubt,
That his skull was cracked from ear to ear.
We pumped water half the night, and tried to keep the ship upright,
By strapping weight onto the high side.
She wallowed, creaked, and groaned while Derek moaned,
Until at last, the storm just up and died.
We cut away splintered wood, cleaned up best as we could,
And wrapped up Derek's broken head.
His speech was all mumble, if he tried to walk he'd stumble,
So we had to strap him to his bed.
We still had a starboard list. Maybe there was a leak we'd missed.
So Lur checked out the hull as best he could.
A trickling leak revealed where the caulking had unsealed,
Near a half a dozen seams of warped wood.
We placed a spare beam upright, and lashed it up tight,
Against the shattered stump of our main mast.
We mounted a ring stop, to the beam's top.
And with it raised a spar and tied it fast.
It wasn't very big; our sail was a jury rig,
But then at last we knew we could make way.
We did not turn about, for in us was no doubt
We would to sail west for another day.
Looking back, that was a mistake. The sea became a glass lake.
Flat and calm without a breath of wind.
No respite from the sun! Our journey was undone,
And soon our ranks would be further thinned.
The heat baked Derek dry - he could barely utter a cry,
As his brain withered in his broken head.
We pinned on him a name tag, sewed him in a canvas bag,
And buried him at sea once he was dead.
We were down to three, but none of us would flee,
For we still had so much that we could gain.
If only the wind blew, we could see this thing through,
And make our voyage worthy of our pain.
That evening our eyes sought to spy the speck in the western sky,
And there it was, small but plain to see!
It was a moving thing, soaring on golden wing.
We had to find out just what it could be
We opened our last water keg, and down in its dregs,
Water sloshed around green as a leaf.
We had maybe one hand in which to find land,
And a stream which would bring us relief.
By single candle light, Farius searched all night,
For anything of use down in the hold.
Just before first light, he shouted with delight!
He'd found a rusty pipe, full of mold.
He scraped off the rust, cleaned the inside with a brush,
Then drilled two holes in a bucket's side.
We put the pipe right through, used tar as a glue
Then attached a funnel of old bosk hide.
We had made a still! Now we could drink our fill,
If we could get fresh water to come out.
There were vents of steam, leaking from a seam,
One talu a day dribbled from the spout.
We did not thrive, but it kept us alive.
Till Farius's legs began to cramp.
He threw up half the day, till the runs came his way,
And his skin became pallid and damp.
Farius became dehydrated; his thirst could not be abated,
His fluid loss caused him to shrink in girth.
I tried to increase what our still got, but the sea water was too hot,
To condense much more than a talu's worth.
Before he wasted away, he woke up at the break of day,
And whispered, "You've done me your best.
And tho' die I must, I'll watch from the City of Dust,
And I'll grin when you complete our Quest!"
I didn't feel well myself, ate salts from the medical shelf.
And we boiled the water a second time.
Lur's stomach went on the run; which wasn't much fun.
But we both beat the cholera in time.
I blamed the pipe, it was probably ripe,
With foulness lurking in the bilge water.
But we had other problems to fight, like our list to the right.
And each day seemed to get hotter.
We buried Farius at sea, now it was just Lur and me,
But we just could not give up the fight.
If you could have seen the thing, airborne on flaming wing!
You'd know our pain was slim cost for the sight.
Lur tried to pitch the seams, but with the warped beams,
Caulking from inside just did not last.
The sea would press through, and we had to redo,
All the work we did in the day past.
"We'll brace the beams from inside, then I'll go over the side,
And with some luck maybe I will cheat death.
I'll smear pitch and tar, and go down the hull as far,
As I can while holding my breath."
I used a sharpened nail, to thrum rope into an old sail,
A fothered sail to act just like a patch.
Enough sea pressure could hold the sail against the wood.
The tar and fibers made a sticky match.
Lur tied a rope about his waist, then he made haste,
To position the sail over the leaking seams.
I pushed the fothered sail over the side rail,
Then tied it off to the rail near the beam.
Into the water he dove, then he strove,
To stay submerged as long as he could.
I leaned over to see where he might be,
As he pulled himself along the wood.
The sail became taut, as Lur fought
With the end hanging over the side.
I could see him smear tar, then press a wooden bar
Up and down the sail's outer side.
The sea pressed the sail flat, the rope threads got fat,
And filled the seams and stuck to the tar.
I thought we were home free, then I could see,
A ripple coming in from afar.
It was a sea sleen on attack! I was taken aback,
Then tugged on the rope three times real quick.
Lur knew there was trouble; a gush of bubble,
Broke the surface as he started to kick.
I tried to pull him out, but the man was stout,
And then Lur just ran out of luck.
His hand reached for the rail, then he let out a wail,
For that was when the sea sleen struck.
His eyes bugged out wide as my last friend died,
While his hand was still clutching mine.
My guts twisted inside as I had to let him slide,
Back down into the Thassa's brine.
Now it was just me, and a broken ship against the sea,
And a task with which we both obsessed.
To my dead friends I would show the lengths that I would go,
So we sailed on, always to the west.
It was westward, and ever westward!
To find what? That still, we did not know.
Through boiling heat and with nothing to eat.
It had to be the last act of the show.
The water would steam and hiss, and there were no fish.
But faint and far there was another sound.
Was that a rumble of thunder? Was I heading into a fatal blunder?
I would have rather died than turn around.
It was a water fall! It was Thassa's death call,
Twixt boulders hung on the edge of our world.
Next to the sun, low but bright, a tarn crossed my sight,
With its wings of golden fire unfurled!"
Its feathers were hot as the sun, the sound was one,
I've never heard, nor want to hear ever more.
It's wings fanned a song, burning, fierce and long
As it's talons grasped the Light of Gor!
It flapped the air into fire, was this my death pyre?
In her flames my body was beset.
She held Lar Torvis in a claw, and I finally saw,
The spot where the evening sun sets!
Two cables away, in a rocky bay,
That split the torrent of Thassa's fall,
Stood a box of steel, and I can still feel
The heat glowing off that metal wall.
Arms in front of my face, I looked apace,
As the bird placed the orb in that crate.
The ship smoked and burned, and how I yearned,
To get away, but it was too late.
My hair burned away in the heat of that day,
Then the lid began to close tight.
The last fearsome ray, hurt the most I must say,
Then, all of a sudden, it was night.
My eyes were near blind, I was out of my mind
From the pain and the burns on my skin.
The bird, dull in the night, flew out of sight,
I had just one more task to begin.
A buoy and chain, I tied in my pain,
To an anchor, and heaved it o'er the side.
On the buoy a sign made plain, this was my claim -
I sailed back against the raging tide.
Hand after hand, I prayed to see land,
And the canals of my beloved Port Kar.
I fished when I could, chopped up railing for fire wood,
I couldn't starve after coming so far.
Only east I would look for the fifteen hands it took,
For me to nurse us both back to my home.
I could finally see this city! My docking wasn't very pretty,
I stepped ashore, and and let gawking eyes roam.
Now, some say in the west, is where the sun sets,
But it's a tarn putting its chick to rest!
It flies swift all night and in the east 'fore daylight -
It lays an egg - the new sun - in its nest.
Now I'm a man of no fame, but I've made a claim,
To the place the sun rests at night.
We can make it rise in the west, and you'd know best,
How much men would pay for that right.
You've heard my story whole, and you bought me a bowl,
So, if you've ten silver tarns to spare,
My friend, we'll own the sun! Won't that be fun?
And I'll give to you a one-tenth share.
To lengthen the day? The red caste would pay,
For no darkness to halt an attack.
And landowners could buy light, to not harvest at night.
In a flash we'd make your money back."
The fellow sure was bold. Had I just been sold,
A story that had just bought charity?
I could not say a word, about the tale I'd heard.
I sat dumbfounded, and waited to see.
"Oh, sir, that won't do? Well, just for you,
I'll be glad to drop the price to five.
We'll sell daylight, abolish the night!
Ah! What a great time to be alive.
Still 'No' from you? But my tale is true,
You can see I've been through burning hell.
Maybe one more bowl? - Of course, sir, I'll go.
My thanks to you, and I wish you well."
I drank through the night, and thought of the sight
Of the pain that poor man had gone through.
Maybe I'll outfit a ship, give Port Kar the slip -
And go see if his story was true.
Who is Lady Black, part I
by Varnar the Trader
One day, many millennia ago, there was a birth at the World's End, a birth between the Chieftain father and his mate, the Lady of the Red Hunters tribe. Death was there too; none ever truly noticed the day to be gone so awry, but the loss in such an event carried much further and deeper than any ever dared anticipate. Physicians' findings tell us all human desire returns to an original loss! From emerging from a Blissful unity of the maternal womb, the newborn infant lives in a state of symbiosis with her Mother, of un-differentiation or imaginary Fusion between the self and the world. The loss of this paradise of oneness leads to the birth of desire, an unconscious feeling of incompleteness or lack, which can never be fully overcome. Among the transcendent events of life, sexual union is the most basic experience that allows the Adult to escape her separateness and regain the long-for bliss of union with the other. But the loss of self through sexual ecstasy, while it occurs subjectively outside of time, is an experience which by its nature cannot endure. Indeed, it seems a woman's fate to strife restlessly from object to object, unable to restore the state of wholeness and harmony that has been lost forever. The impossible Physical urge backward is of necessity transformed into a movement forward, whose ultimate underlying aim, in the view of schooled minds, must be death! The other pole of life represents actual completion and the final putting-to-rest of a woman's never-ending state of desire.
Many dare not ask, 'Who are you?', and for the most part, it is very understandable why people dare not ask. The name alone ruffles fear and distrust. The spread of rumours accompanied the whispers and pointing fingers when she passed the street or came from a dark alley. It never was and never will be corrected. It doesn't matter whether the whispers were false accusations or the tales spoken were truths... Why didn't Black correct the errors to put the people straight and ensure that the myths dispersed from the streets? It's a long story, a story certainly worth listening to!
As a young girl, she was highly sought after by the tribesmen. Mother died during childbirth, and Father, their Chieftain, did an excellent job raising the young woman to the best of his abilities. He found himself later killed by a murderer. Upon seeking the killer, he sadly never was found. When becoming of age, the men lured her to carry her out, a means to claim her into companionship, and mating to enclose the coupling as valid and for life. She didn't seek any man to be 'carried away' and, of course, the ugliest and the most notorious man of the tribe tried. She fought him; he died on the wounds she inflicted on him and was fed to the depths of the Polar Sea for the sea sleen to devour. She couldn't end up killing all the men of the tribe. She requested the newly appointed Chieftain to learn the arts of healing on the mainland and perhaps come back schooled and with better knowledge to help her people's lives. She was allowed, and alone as she was left, she packed and left the coldest packs of ice to the mainland to seek tutoring in the arts of healing.
Black wasn't born with the name Black. Her true name none knows other than the people of her tribe. She's 'of the people' as we usually get called. In correspondence, she would be taught where she hails from initially. Speaking her own name may be feared to lose it once given, a superstition commonly branded in the people's beliefs. A superstition she never would dare to put into practice and kept that name hidden. She went with a few words. Phasmatis was one, yet none could pronounce it. Only a very phew would shorten it to Phas! Indeed!
Adapted to the name Phasmatis, she travelled far and wide. She went from one end of the world to the other. In the southern tribes, she met the Kassar Blood people. Ubar Brock Yumanja took her in and taught her a lot. Some things she actually may need to learn were included. The desire to heal usually also corresponds with the knowledge of how to punish and inflict pain without actually killing them. Off the books and any other records, she was taught the arts of torture by Brock himself. For many years, she remained with the Kassar. Getting to know many other people among one old Tuchuk, Old Scar, a brother to Brock, until the word came he was no longer among the living. It was a sad fate, and her trek in the world continued with the knowledge she was keeping secret. She ended up with Outlaws and worked to become the High Commander of the Dak Woods Outlaws, pretending to be the kennel Mistress to fool the enemies and have the men-appointed officers rule the raiding and bring in spoils. Soon, the other outlaws found out the true nature of her existence in the DWO camp. She was the target of many souls that would love nothing more but to have their hands on her.. she was luckily clever enough to not end in their holdings. Phas met Madmax and companioned the man. They had a triplet, Dredger, Moriart, and Jilliana. Newly born and raised in the means of the freedom the lands had to offer, and constant fights through our lives.. the day came that Max was captured and killed by other Outlaws. Soon, the kids were old enough to live on their own. She moved on to seek her original goal to be a Physician...
[...to be continued]
Kajuralia, he yelled!
by the Traveler
Gather 'round, my friends, and lend an ear to tales of a day that comes but once a year, when cities transform and chaos reigns! Forget all you know about Gor, for on this day, mischief and wonder take the stage.
Imagine a bustling city, alive with a vibrant gathering. In the midst of the dispersing crowd, a free woman's eyes are locked onto a slave girl. Amid the excitement, the slave girl's words are as if dipped in wine, rolling off her tongue with a playful lilt. Drawn by an invisible thread, the free woman edges closer, veils brushing the bare shoulder of the slave. Secrets are whispered, shared between them alone, and then the free woman retreats, leaving behind a mystery.
Ah, but the reminder for the slaves is clear – seize the moment of Kajuralia, for soon the freedoms will be reined in again. The slave girl, fueled by a plan and a spirit of revelry, sets off to gather bottles of wine, plotting a visit to the tavern, where mirth and camaraderie await her and her friend.
Now, let us turn our gaze to another figure - a Ubar's daughter. Restless and yearning for escape, she roams the streets, her thoughts as scattered as the wind. Confinement within the palace walls has grown unbearable, and the promise of wine beckons her away. She spots a free man in her path, but with a sigh, she averts her course and sets her sights on the quiet
sanctuary of the temple.
Yet, across the city, a different scene unfolds. A man dashes through the streets, flinging fruit with abandon, his laughter ringing like a melody in the air. "Kajuralia!" he shouts, turning the city into a canvas for his playful artistry. But who is this man, and what drives his gleeful antics?
In yet another corner, two free women engage in an intriguing conversation. They compare an old man's visage to a fig, words as enigmatic as the very city itself. Their exchange is abruptly interrupted as splattering fruit bursts upon them, splashing even the air with chaos. A storm of anger brews, a storm that promises to reveal secrets of its own.
Elsewhere, a kajira and a free man share an exchange of words. Their grins and mischievous banter suggest more beneath the surface. The kajira's impish move to fling a cup of liquid into the air adds a layer of mystery to the unfolding drama. Where will her antics lead them, and what secrets lie behind those cheeky smiles?
And as twilight descends, city criers proclaim news that turns heads – the Ubar's daughter, allowed to meet suitors in the grand festival hall. What intrigue lies in store for her, and who are these suitors that seek her favor? Before or after this revelation, the city's alarm bells ring out, and chaos ensues.
It seems the Ubar's daughter encounters her first suitor, a wandering builder who stumbles into a world unknown to him. A chance encounter with a slave girl's words ignites a spark, setting off a chain reaction of events. A sword is demanded, a clash of intentions unfolds, and the daughter's very safety is at stake. In the midst of this turmoil, warriors step forth, and alliances are tested. Whispers of alliances and unspoken desires linger in the air.
These tales, my friends, are but fragments of the grand tapestry woven on this day of Kajuralia. In the heart of Ar, where mirth and mystery dance hand in hand, the city's inhabitants revel in the enigmatic embrace of the annual chaos.
Behind the Veils
Free Women Challenge
Physicians of Gor have set out to challenge the Free Women of Gor! Free Women, it's time to show those Physicians what you're made of, step up to the challenge set for you. Join in this months contest and write a poem and show them what you're made of! follow the theme and tell us what's behind your veil!
- Theme: Behind the Veil
Rules:
Only Free Women can participate
Write you poem on a scroll and deliver it to Gorean Grape Vine. If you need our address again, please read the Editors note to get the information.
Traveling infirmary
by Lady Astarta Malverick feat. Genesian Crier #42
Once upon a time in the land of Gor, something we all share happened – needing help when we're hurt, no matter if it's something small or really big. Like cuts that sting, burns that ache, scars from fights, or the happiness before a special event.
But in some places in Gor, getting help when you're hurt is hard. In villages, towns, and faraway spots, not everyone can see a healer or Physician. This can make things dangerous for the people who want to help. People sometimes have to travel really far to find help, and this makes their injuries worse and more dangerous.
Lucky for us, in Genesian Port, there's a place with everything needed to help people – tools and experts who know what to do. From this good place, an idea came up – to make a moving hospital. The big idea is to bring healing to every part of Gor, no matter if someone is free or not, from the North or South.
Here's the plan: People from Genesian Port travel around Gor, learning about other towns and healers. Then they talk about the idea of working together to help people. One place, Thorhall village, liked this idea. When there's time, Physicians from Genesian Port will go there and help the villagers.
But this is just one part of the story. There are more places joining in. Mirkwood village wants their own healing place, and Genesian Physicians will help. They even know about babies that will be born soon.
People from Rarir city asked for help too. They don't have Physicians, so they want to be part of the plan. They're making a plan to work together.
In all of this, the people of Genesian Port are most important.
But there's a bigger dream too – a dream where everyone can get help when they need it. If this happens, Physicians won't have to worry so much, and they can travel more safely to help people.
So, if you hear about someone who needs help, don't wait. Find the moving hospital and let them know. Just like the Rarius say, "Honour and Steel," the Physicians say, "Ready to do anything for life."
Making the Labels - Your advertisements.
🏛️ Unveil your potential in the heart of Imperial Ar – where dreams meet reality in a spectacular medley of roles! Discover a world of opportunities as diverse as our bustling marketplace: become a master Metalworker, oversee the absurd as a Clerk handling fictional finances, or step into the shadows as a mysterious Frumentary. Let your skills shine as a healing Physician, a culinary maestro as a Culinary Artisan, or a daring risk-taker as a Gambling Extraordinaire. Even slaves find fortune here! Uncertain where you fit? Consult with the Regent or Ubar, who are often found adding their touch of charm to the city's rhythm.
🌟 Come to Eddie's Spaghetti, located in the beautiful Venna. What's better than to enjoy some time relaxing at the lake alongside a hearty dinner of sa tarna with water and vulo egg mixed in? At Eddie's Spaghetti we pride ourselves on the most inventive sauces and selections couriered via Ar from all corners of the continent. You try Eddie's once, you'll come and come again for that taste! (Spa-whatti? Don't worry, it's a term coined by a famed Arian chef, definitely NOT a barbarian word!)
🎉 Calling all bold Goreans! Get ready for a mega Gorean fest – games, rivalries, and shiny trophies await. Next month, a whirlwind event is hitting multiple lands, so save the date and polish those skills. Archery, fights, races, and even acting – we've got it all covered. And don't forget the beats of music and the dance of slaves – because this is Gorean festivity at its finest. Get ready to triumph and laugh – it's a weekend you won't want to miss!
🥁 EDS TACK SHOP WANTS YOU!
EXCELLENT TACK FOR THE AVID KAIILA! WE STOCK ALL SIZES AND MODELS! VALUE PRICING!
LOCATED OASIS OF BATTLE RED ROCKS - DUNE COUNTRY! WORTH THE TRAVEL FOR AMAZING PRICES!
🏰 Calling all adventurers, merchants, and peasants with a knack for prosperity! Graydon Falls beckons you to its welcoming embrace, where taxes dare not tread! Dock your vessels at our shores, engage in tax-free trade that keeps your coins safe and sound, and seize the opportunity to reap the rewards of our bountiful farms. Whether you're a gem-hunting merchant or a farmer with a green thumb, Graydon Falls is your haven for unfettered success and community charm. Don't miss out on the chance to join our ranks and thrive in a land where taxes vanish like a magician's trick – leaving you with pockets as full as your heart desires!
🎶 New Seamstress Offerings in Talmont! Edwina's boutique has just opened. Furnished with finery and a delicate touch you can be sure that you will have a lovely day shopping with us. From your first slippered step into the gilded doors, we offer sparkling wine and tapas so you do not need worry about fixing lunch. Come and get a fitting, enjoy the atmosphere and the company of the ladies of town. We guarantee your satisfaction with our products, quality and your enjoyment.
✨ Unleash your inner animal whisperer with HeimFjord's latest job offer: "TANNING TITAN WANTED!" Are you a master of turning fluff into stuff? HeimFjord urgently requires a top-notch Tanner to transform the hides of our local wildlife into fashion-forward finery! If you've ever looked at a goose and thought, "That could be a fabulous pair of feathered boots," then this is the gig for you! No need to hide your excitement – just bring your leather-loving spirit and let's turn HeimFjord into the next big name in haute couture, feathered or furry!
📜 Come visit the AAGA!!! The Art & Antiquities Gallery of Ar has hired a new curator, Edward Sepsis. He has appraised a new collection that has been imported from the southern islands. What mystique and mystery awaits your visit and wonder? Children welcome for this incredible experience. Edward the curator will offer personalized guided tours at the AAGA for the next two hands. Don't wait! Book now!
HeimFjord
by Thyri of Kassau
The Crowe and Tolnus families, principled and honourable Goreans were displaced after their home was destroyed and began to travel North to find the old ways again. They found a clearing just past the Northern Forests, beside an inlet surrounded by fjords. They settled there and began to build a settlement...
"The noise of woodcutting resonates round the settlement and the tang of newly hewn logs fills the air along with the shouts of Torvaldslanders demanding ale from the bevy of confused bondmaids, needing to quench their thirst as the sawdust heaps grow. The men labour with all their strength, no caste distinctions for them only the urge to succeed
The bondsmaids run trying to find ale and mead stores, some of them naked still as the crates with their clothes are not the priority and were last seen on a serpent with a broken mast. The men snatch what food and drink that can be found, their bodies drenched with sweat but their joy in their new home is so clear as the logs for the long hall walls begin to pile up, all has to be done before winter sets in, space for the families, the slaves and the animals until the snows melt and they can begin to farm once again. The Chieftain works with the men, they all know the urgency and the comradeship.
The serpents ride at anchor in the clear fjord water, the waves slapping at their sides lightly as gangs of thralls trudge along the quay with crates and barrels of supplies but even they work willingly especially when the naked girls are ordered to bring them water.
Three skilled fishermen stand at the side of the fjord casting large nets with precision, the shoals of fish swarming and the men nod to each other in delight. Each time a net is pulled in there are bondmaids to gut the fish dexterously, laying them on drying racks, everyone working to have enough food for the winter.
A group of bondmaids lead the small bosk and verr herds to what pasture can be found, every animal critical to keeping the settlement alive during the winter. A gang of thralls forage for what grass, roots and plants can be found for human and animal food, a free woman skilled in herbs watching them sternly, not allowing any mistakes.
Free women walk along the rough paths, dodging out of the way of heavily laden carts with less grace than usual but their minds are on their new home and where their farms will be when Spring comes. They tut in irritation as the bonds dart out of their ways stammering apologies under the free women's gimlet gaze but the excitement of free and collared cannot be held back. The free women lift their unveiled faces to the fading sunlight and breathe the clean air of the North before returning to their own work. One points to an especially curvy girl and mutters to her friend, "That girl Butterpan, won't be able to run from the Kurii quickly enough, she''ll make a good meal."
The uncompanioned girls go about their duties, their long neat plaits of hair swinging but their trips take them near the woodworkers from time to time until their mothers call them back sharply, their own hair adorned with the combs of companionship. The girls are roundly scolded but look at each other with sparkling eyes.
A lone Southern free woman, dressed in green robes, heavily hooded and veiled stumbles by the men, her shoes too high for the terrain and says nervously, "Tal, Sirs", her elegant Ar accent causing some hidden amusement and the Chieftain turns to look at her, recognising the new physician's companion and acknowledges her pleasantly. Once she passes he pulls a squealing buxom bondmaid to him and pinches her curves with a grin, laughing, "I like some meat on a girl's body to cushion me." The girl squirms against him eagerly and he looks at her, amused, saying, "I rename you Honey", then he slaps her rear hard, "Go find some mead, quickly"
HeimFjord is a home of courage, simplicity and directness, wisdom as opposed to scholarship, self control and discipline, justice above law, fidelity, the keeping oaths and promises, self reliance and perseverance.
Words & Wine
by Zoey Tenacious
Today, we present a new form of evening entertainment, tailor-made for those seeking tranquil moments by candlelight with a glass of wine in hand. A word of caution, though - this experience isn't suited for those accompanied by crying babes in the background. So, dear reader, settle in, unwind, and immerse yourself in this captivating activity. Once you feel you have all the answers, seek out the nearest mailbox of Gorean grape wine and drop your answers in. Coin prizes await the winners at the beginning of next month!
The Journey to Graydon Falls: A Tale of Hope and Resilience
by Tarl of Vonda
Once upon a time, in the land of Vonda, there was a city like no other. It held a charm that captivated the hearts of all who visited, and it was a place of great joy and camaraderie. I had many dear friends who called this city home, and I shared countless wonderful memories with them.
One fateful day, news reached me that Vonda had fallen. My heart sank with sorrow, knowing that the city I cherished was no more. But amidst the sadness, a flicker of determination ignited within me. I remembered the brave warriors, the valiant souls who had defended our city with unwavering courage. Among them was Hvitserk Ryu, a man I held in high esteem, a captain who had led with honor, and a friend who I deeply admired.
Without hesitation, I made up my mind. I would follow Hvitserk Ryu, along with his loyal companion and kajirae. It was a decision fueled by hope and trust, a belief that wherever they journeyed, they would find a new haven of beauty and tranquillity.
Their path led them to the edges of the land, where the Vosk River flowed gracefully. It was at this point that they discovered a place of wonder, a hidden gem nestled in the embrace of the Voltai Mountains. This place was none other than the City State of Graydon Falls.
Graydon Falls was a sight to behold. Quaint and rustic buildings stood proudly, watched over by towering gorges and sheer cliffs that served as natural fortifications. The mountains themselves stood as steadfast sentinels, protecting the city from any threat. The streets were adorned with trees and flowers, and fountains whispered melodies of serenity.
The people of Graydon Falls thrived in harmony with their surroundings. Bosk and Verr roamed the mountains' edges, offering furs, cloth, and cheese as sustenance and trade. The vineyards that adorned the plateau produced exquisite wines, a testament to the region's abundance. Markets at the docks buzzed with activity, where both local traders and those journeying along the Vosk River exchanged goods and stories.
Among the enchanting scenes, a mystery lingered in the air. Tarnsmen soared above, their presence hinting at the legendary hidden city of Treve. While many believed this to be true, no one had ever unveiled the secret trails leading to Treve itself.
And so, as the days turned into nights and seasons cycled, Graydon Falls stood as a testament to resilience and hope. A haven born from the determination of brave souls, it embraced the beauty of nature and the richness of community. My decision to follow Hvitserk Ryu and his companions had led me to a place where the spirit of Vonda lived on, where the echoes of friendship and valor reverberated through every corner.
In the heart of Graydon Falls, I found solace, and the legacy of Vonda's spirit continued to thrive. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of gold and pink across the sky, I knew that within the embrace of the mountains and the serenity of the falls, a new chapter had begun—one of hope, love, and the everlasting bonds that connected us all.
Published: 1st September 2023
Part II
Special Edition
"Did you hear what's being said on the Grape Vine of late!"
Monthly independent publication with content from all around Gor.
Publisher: Amir Boa Nasrallah (ascendedyetagain)
Editor: Itahshy Sturdy (shyntylene.lauria)
Content (Part II):
12. Annie's Mail Box - Your questions posted here!
13. The Lady, "Secret Desires" Chapter II
14. Little O, "Whispers of Home: Tales from a Welcoming City"
15. TarnRidge Tarn, "The Perch"
16. Zoey Tenacious, "Ripples of Discontent: Unveiling Tensions in the Tranquil City of Venna"
17. Kajira Vala feat. Amir Boa Nasrallah, "A Lesson in Vanity"
18. Gossip Wine - Fresh from every field of Gor
Annie's Mail Box
1. Dear Annie,
I am the daughter of a wealthy merchant and at risk even contacting you but a contract is being negotiated for me with the son of a merchant in another city. Naturally I have not seen him but I hear, through undisclosed contacts that he claims to love his kajira. How can I have any respect for such a man ?
Yours in disgust,
Lady A
Dearest Lady A,
Your choices are limited. Hedge your bets. Would upsetting your father be in your best interest right now or might you cry on his shoulder and make up a reason that does not involve a slave girl as to why you should be promised to another? If not, seek out the good in the man. It's likely if he openly loves his slave girl then he will be keen to spoil you with wealth and jewels to keep you happy and complacent. Follow the logical self, not the heart. Worst case, accidents happen. You can stop the next one from being an annoyance to your day to day.
With steel resolve,
Annie
2. Dear Annie,
How the touch and feel of silk causes my body to tremble, I have a small square hidden in my chamber and when my parents sleep, i take it and trail it over my skin, Sometimes even it gets wet which puzzles me as the roof definitely does not leak. What do you advise, should I burn the silk, call a builder to check the tiles or do something else ?
Do you know silk changes colour when it is wet ?
Yours in anticipation of all sorts
Lois
Lois,
You are exciting yourself! You should call a builder when your parents are out to check the tiles and be sure to be caught without your veils on. He will make it all alright. Do write again and let me know how it turns out!
Annie xox
PS. I did not know that!
3. Dear Annie,
I have a strange attraction to a female named Petunia. She's spotted and makes funny sounds. Why don't people understand?
Sir A
Dear Sir A...wkward,
Tell your closest friend in a letter and then go travel for a few hands. If we are lucky you will have some salted Petunia upon your return. If not, I do hope you enjoy hard labor! You are either too stupid to know where you are headed or already know and do not care. I will keep an ear out in my travels for the tale of the odd man who was enslaved. I hope they do not allow you access to writing materials and I will only hear of what happened through bards and storytellers if I am unfortunate enough to travel anywhere near your homeland.
Annie
Secret Desires - Chapter II
by the Lady
When our flesh met my nipples pert and puckered pressed into the warmth of his chest everything melted. He continued using my hand to slap and smack, punch and toy with me even when I whined out a daring "Tristan!" with a pretty little pout that might sometimes allow me to be afforded just a bit of leeway. Not tonight. I knew exactly the situation I had put myself in and his steely gaze boring into my wide eyes. My mouth hurt, random spots on my tits and hips were surely bruised already but still, all I could think of was that devoted heart of mine which was entwined with his in a manner I hadn't known was possible. He kissed the pucker of my pout roughly, biting on my lower lip until I could taste a sprig of blood along the side of my tongue. "Ingrid" he answered with a growl, pulling back from my mouth and leaving us attached only by a desperate strand of saliva. He set me on the bed and moved my knees with strong hands. I blinked and looked up to him unsteady and uncertain when they had been pushed snugly together. "Ingrid you have been a bad little thing" he spoke with narrowed gaze and firm jaw. I tucked my chin to my chest and felt immediate shame.
This was not going to be one of those laughing matter, playful experiences. I could feel it deep in my bones already. "You were supposed to be dressed and ready for our encounter and now I am home and I see that you want to be a little brat!?" I shuddered and folded my shoulders inward, shrinking as much as I could while my thighs were thankfully clutched snugly together. He slapped me then, one cheek and the other. There was no pause, no reprieve. Only his own hands now, much harder than the ones he'd forced me to use earlier had begun to rough me up as he continued to speak. Every time I peeked up his eyes were locked on my face. "We can work on that my little brat!" he shouted at me. I squeaked and closed my eyes. A long length of breath was drawn and savored. When I next tried to seek out his presence he was no longer standing there. I felt my cheeks stinging and tears begin to pierce at the corner of my eyes both. It was blurry but he had gone to the cupboard. There was rarely anything good for me locked behind its glass display door.
"Fuck" I muttered to myself. I had completely forgotten that he had planned to take me to that secret brothel club. We had not been there together after the night we first met and I vaguely recalled something about show and share being on the menu. I lifted a hand up, bent at the wrist and wiped my eyes, sniffling. My gaze became clear and I could see that not only had he the weighted cuffs, he had a chain that was thicker than his thumb. When he returned to my side he pet my head as if I were a simple little thing. His lips set a carefully pressed kiss to my left temple and in the instant I closed my eyes and sighed, mewling, I felt the clamp of steel wrapped around my neck. That thick chain trailed lazily between the valley of my breaths. It was cold and and caused my flesh to tighten in some anticipatory anxiety.
He walked in circles around me and I knew better than to speak further. The hint of pain felt from earlier punching started to dissipate but the building of worry, wonder, I wasn't sure had overtaken me so much that I barely noticed the expected cuffs being locked around wrists and ankles. More chains were added and affixed to bolts on the floor surrounding the bed. I had calmed my breath by then, kind of. There was a knot in my belly and my panties were as expected, already soaking wet. "Don't think for a second I didn't hear you curse my slut" he said, calmly now. In the moment that his anger subsided I had pressed my shaking lips together and whimpered. "Open wide" he said and forcefully kicked my thighs apart. When they had been so wide the length of tendons stretched and burned, he kicked more. "Stay or I will chain you wide open for the rest of the week," he cautioned me. "Yes Master" I spoke two words I know he would always allow me and did my best to wait patiently while he bound one wrist exceptional.
[... to be continued]
Whispers of Home: Tales from a Welcoming City
by Little O
The ship docked and as we disembarked. In the distance i could see what i thought to be a pirate waving a sword at someone that was standing much to close to me. From what i could see, the look on his face combine with his motions was not something or someone that I would want to encounter even in a nightmare. Running from the dock to catch up with my owner before I peed myself we made it to the gates of this well known city, and went in.
Just through the gates was the perfect spot to sit and watch as the people as they passed in their comings and goings of day to day life. Unaware why, but this place felt like home from the moment I arrived. . I'm not sure if it was the friendly welcome we received from one of their warriors that was near the gate, protecting the inheritance from intruders. The builder lady that seem to ask just the right question at the right time before running off to her home with red cheeks. Or if it could have been the stone walkways that wrapped around a small garden area. The smell of scented flowers, food cooking from the inn, and a hint of intrigue all mixed together but distinct enough to sort them out.
Important buildings lined the streets which made everything fairly easy to find. I had never been before, but it felt like i had. The market area with it's colorful banners, and even the Ubar and the lovely lady he was with, that would soon be his companion. Both, gave us a warm welcome and an opportunity we truly didn't expect. We were taken into the scribe building and up several staircases till we reached the top floor.
This was where the intimate ceremony of companionship took place between the Ubar and his now Ubara. The Ubar dressed in fine flowing purple garb that suited him well. The lady looking proper in her dress and veil. This wasn't a companionship for convenience or power. This was for love, and there was no doubt that you could feel it radiate between the two of them. My owner was the officiant and yes, yours truly got to serve the wine.
What an honor that was!
Later that night as i laid on the floor of my owners ship room, i had time to think about the days adventures. I couldn't help but wonder how the Ubars night ended with his new companion. Or if the warrior at the gate ever found where the lady lived that wore the yellow dress. That one eyed pirate that very well could have pierced the poor peasant with his sword. I wonder if he did. Could all this happen in Temos? I would say this, and more. I may be just a slave boy standing before the home stone of a city, inhaling smeared seeded blood that had been dripped upon it by so many. Dreaming doent count though. You have to smell the bakery aromas, tease a passing kajira, and bow before the Ubar. to understand. If you have a few spare coppers, take the trip, travel, and see for yourself.
The Perch
by TarnRidge Tarn
I sit and watch as life's scenes unfold,
My home torn down, then stories retold.
Waters that once flowed rich and free,
Now scarce and strained, a different decree.
New faces arrive, the city pulsates,
Exploring its corners, discovering its traits.
From my vantage point, I perceive the surge,
As strangers integrate, their paths converge.
An innkeeper arrives, seeking a mate,
Bound by fate, they share a plate.
A warrior emerges, tales etched in scars,
With a slave in tow, unlocking memoirs.
Streets alive with masks and games,
High slaves incognito, shedding their names.
Amidst the laughter, whispers take flight,
A Scribe's vanished head, a puzzle of night.
Slavers clash over dominance and sway,
Fair women's futures become the foray.
A cryptic puzzle of power and desire,
A quest for control, setting hearts afire.
Physicians linger in the shadows' embrace,
Healing hands veiled, a hidden grace.
The Ubar orchestrates, a diligent hand,
Filling crevices in the city's grand strand.
In Tarn Ridge's mosaic, I'm but a shade,
A spectator in solitude, dreams unlaid.
While others script their tales of glee,
I await the chance to define what's me.
Life's canvas unfurls in patterns diverse,
I stand at the edge, a silent converse.
Hoping the spotlight might someday find,
The role I'll embrace, the story entwined.
Ripples of Discontent: Unveiling Tensions in the Tranquil City of Venna,
By Zoye Tenacious
I looked forward to returning to the fine city of Venna, after hearing that their rather evil administrator was gone. Pleased to hear that Argos of the Scribes had taken the helm and companioned Tenka, the unruly. I will interrupt myself to wish a warm congratulations to both and would never dare speak an ill word regarding the Lady Tenka. Readers may be assured that some lines are drawn early in friendship and anyone who knows me knows well enough that I will not do anything that may disparage a woman that I know.
Anyway, my traveling party and myself, were with some wonderful characters. The innkeeper is kind and careful, while her companion and slave are welcoming. My party even had an opportunity to partake in the luxury of the lake and its amenities in my absence. It wasn't until I met the Lady Isona and asked her if the Administrator still swims nude in the lake that I was met with a sour puss face and a poor attitude. It seems that visitors to this splendid city are easily referred to as those who have idle time to frivolously bounce around the city in exploration. Uh .. duh? Isn't that what the city is here for? Besides, I am sure Argos will not deny his own words.
I trust that those readers who know me understand that I am not looking to spend time with the companion of my best friend. In fact I will continue to make a point to avoid him. I will point out that a 'Lady' of high caste within the city, suggesting that I had asked them if THEY saw the administrator nude, and then subsequently calling them a cock chaser, and a peasant, is not only unbecoming for her family, but for the city she represents. A shame. A resort city with women slinging insults freely, with assumptions, that clearly only makes an ass of herself. My wish is that Venna may take this feedback and find themselves a more hospitable resort city, lest they find themselves with empty gaming halls, overflowed infirmaries with nonsense injuries, and worst of all, the continents most boring citizens.
A Lesson in Vanity
by Kajira Vala feat. Amir Boa Nasrallah
Who doesn't enjoy a captivating tale? It's like each day dawns with the hope of something fresh, something we've never experienced before. And what could match the charm of a storytelling gathering, where you, your friends, and even your kajirae come together around a flickering fire to share tales and laughter? Just recently, during this moon, I found myself in Sais, drawn to the magnetic pull of stories and laughter. Amidst the warmth of camaraderie, I had the pleasure of hearing a delightful story from a slave girl named Vala. Allow me to share her whimsical tale with you...
In the grand city of Ar, a tale unfolded about an Ubara whose elegance and sophistication were second to none. She held a place of such high regard that women of the noblest Castes aspired to capture her essence. If she adorned her hair with a strand of ebony pearls one week, the next week saw a sudden surge of these pearls adorning the locks of free women – quite the sight! Should the Ubara drape herself in regal velvet of amethyst hue, a flurry of activity would follow as the ladies rushed to mimic her choice with fabrics of their own caste colors. And the hours she dedicated to affixing tiny bells to the left ankles of her personal slaves – well, the symphony of delicate tinkling echoed through the streets of Ar, as the slaves moved about their daily tasks.
Truly, the Ubara's quest was an unending pursuit of the extraordinary and the resplendent in attire. Hence, when whispers reached her ears of an enigmatically scarce fabric referred to as "Thauma Tissura," an irrepressible urge welled within her to lay claim to it. This fabled fabric, so the tales went, held within its threads a kind of enchantment that could magnify both the wearer's allure and influence. Yet, it was quite comical, considering the Ubara was already awash with influence – indeed, she was the foremost potent woman in Ar, scarcely second to anyone except her loyal Companion. As for her beauty, though she was well aware of her loveliness, a quiet whisper of vanity often persuaded her that there was room to be even more captivating.
Whispers of this unyielding fixation came to the ears of a pair of wandering traders, Asher and Zane, both notably sly and equally adept in their cunning. Their reputation spanned the lands of Gor, celebrated for their proficiency in crafting illusions that led astray even the keenest of gazes. Curiously, the inhabitants of Torcadino had, at that particular moment, nearly exhausted their surplus coin. In light of this, the traders prepared their belongings for a journey to Ar, their minds hatching a clever scheme. Their goal? To peddle a fabric to the Ubara, a textile supposedly imperceptible to those deemed unworthy of their rank.
Upon their arrival in Ar, Asher and Zane navigated the city streets, their merchant's cart laden with a sizable chest. Eagerly, they espoused the contents as a marvel beyond compare, a fabric of unmatched splendor ever woven. In the presence of the Ubara, the duo executed graceful bows, paying homage to her esteemed position. They wove a tale of "Thauma Tissura," a fabric whose very fibers held enchantments known only to the truly powerful and beautiful. The Ubara's intrigue heightened; she coveted this rare prize to an extraordinary degree and promptly agreed to a substantial payment. On the other hand, the Ubar, less taken by such ornamental trappings, conjured a sigh and, recognizing the value of domestic tranquility outweighed the gold tarns at stake, signaled for one of the slaves to direct the merchants to an appropriate setup location.
With precision, the merchants erected their looms in a spacious chamber nestled toward the rear of the Ubar's residence, a masterful charade of weaving the illustrious "Thauma Tissura." In ceaseless succession, day melded into night as their nimble fingers danced, crafting motions mimicking the creation of intricate designs within the fabric. Every dawn, the Ubara, accompanied by her chosen circle of companions, ventured to the entrance, inquiring eagerly if the robes were at last prepared. And so it went, day after day for a span of two weeks, as they were informed of the steady advancement in their crafting endeavors – but, naturally, there remained unfinished work, for grandeur cannot be rushed! (Intriguingly enough, the culinary delights and beverages supplied by the kitchen were nothing short of superb – a circumstance that might have contributed, albeit subtly, to the extended stay of the merchants!)
At long last, the awaited moment dawned – Asher and Zane stood before the Ubara, triumphantly presenting her with the purported "Thauma Tissura" robes. Tenderly, they held up the unseen fabric, its subtle weight evident through their measured movements. With eloquence, they wove descriptions of vibrant hues and intricate patterns, painting an imaginary canvas of beauty. Meanwhile, the Ubara enacted a pretence of admiration, her heart reluctant to confess her inability to perceive any trace of fabric. As if on cue, the Ubar himself entered the scene, inquisitively eyeing the outcome of his investment. Yet, before an awkward inquiry could escape his lips, his Companion spiritedly regaled him with tales of resplendent colors, intricate designs, and masterful craftsmanship imbued in the fabric – a flawless ensemble in the making. Baffled by his own inability to witness the marvel, and weighed down by the disquiet that he might be perceived as unworthy of his Ubar status, he nodded, generously voiced praise, and withdrew promptly to fulfill other responsibilities, leaving the chamber.
Amongst the Ubara's companions, a consensus prevailed – not a one desired to relinquish their elevated status. Thus, as if performing a symphony of synchronized devotion, they applauded the imagined beauty of the unseen fabric. "These robes, Ubara, are destined to be a masterpiece!" they declared in unison, their voices dancing in perfect harmony. Curiosity piqued, they ventured to discuss the potential acquisition of similar cloth for their personal attire. And so, like a swift breeze carrying seeds of gossip, word began to permeate the city, rippling outward. Soon, the city's inhabitants, motivated by the fear of being likened to lowly slaves, willingly embraced the masquerade. A collective narrative took shape, an elaborate illusion where citizens claimed to have glimpsed the merchants immersed in their craft with the ethereal "Thauma Tissura," fashioning a robe of grandeur befitting the Ubara's regal stature.
Not long after the Ubara's robes were declared as complete, the occasion for a Citizenship Ceremony unfolded – three youthful scions hailing from one of the city's most respected families were to be honored. On account of their fathers' esteemed positions within the tapestry of the City of Ar and their intertwined history with the Ubar, festivities took shape. A jubilant procession was orchestrated, weaving through the bustling streets and culminating at the Ubar's abode, where a lavish feast awaited. Predictably, the Ubara donned the "Thauma Tissura" robes, the grand culmination of her aspiration. Along the route, the people raised their voices in jubilation, their cheers reverberating – a chorus of reverence for the Ubar's valor, but equally for the impeccable flair of their trendsetting Ubara. Amidst this chorus, a singular voice dared to defy the harmonious tune. Amongst the crowd, a slave by the name of Niobe – unburdened by the guise of illusion – turned to her master, her expression etched with puzzlement. In a voice un-swayed by convention, she proclaimed, "Master? The Ubara stands unclothed, akin to a barbarian slave. This spectacle is rather ludicrous!"
A hush enveloped the surrounding multitude, their collective gaze transfixed in sheer disbelief upon the ensnared creature. Swiftly, keen to avert any measure of censure directed toward himself, the owner seized the girl by her flowing chestnut tresses, his grip firm and unyielding. Maneuvering through concealed pathways, he hastened her to his residence, where a brutal retribution awaited. Behind closed doors, he subjected her to a harsh and unrelenting thrashing, determined to quell the audacity that had dared defy the norm.
You might expect that this turn of events would trigger a glimmer of reason amongst the city's residents, but such hopes proved futile. Rather, the response was swift and fervent. In an exodus driven by an insatiable longing for opulence, an assembly of ladies, whose means permitted such indulgence, embarked on a fervent quest. Their pursuit? The elusive merchants, Asher and Zane, the very embodiment of the gateway to a new age of fashion. Coins were practically thrust into the hands of these merchants, a deluge of wealth cascading forth, as if in competition to become the next fair maiden graced with the allure of the ethereal "Thauma Tissura." Before long, the streets bore witness to a transformation – a panorama of women from the elevated echelons of society adorned themselves in gowns and robes spun from the enigmatic fabric. Swathed in grandeur, these ladies promenaded in litters or took leisurely strolls through parks – partaking in leisurely activities that free women often embraced to while away the hours.
Before too much time had passed, Asher and Zane, seasoned in gauging the optimal moment, perceived the occasion to take their leave. Aware of the bounds they had transgressed with their audacious stratagem, they harbored no inclination to entangle themselves further once the intricacies of their ruse unfurled. Egressing through the city gates, they embarked upon a course down the road, steadily increasing the distance between themselves and the realm of Ar. As they journeyed onward, a realization washed over them – a sentiment of sheer providence. Gazing out upon the desolate expanses that bordered the realm, they discerned a tell-tale glint – an irrefutable manifestation of weaponry. An assemblage, fueled by the impetus of a raid, had congealed, its trajectory destined towards Ar.
Diverted by the spectacle of unchained women, the sentinels entrusted with vigilance across the stark expanses to the city's north displayed a laxity in their responsibilities. Consequently, a twist of fate ushered the raiding party to the very walls of the city, where they encountered scant resistance to their ingress. Positioned atop the ramparts, the guards belatedly grasped the gravity of their lapse in alertness. Swiftly, their defenses crumbled before the advance of the raiders, who swiftly overpowered the defenders and surged downward into the heart of the city. In an act of serendipity, the marauders had chosen their point of entry judiciously – a proximity to opulence's abode, where the most affluent dwellings stood in clustered elegance.
Chaos erupted, ignited by the clash of arms, yet the raiders wielded the advantage of their unforeseen presence. Swiftly, their ranks burgeoned with a haul of precious gems and gleaming currency, their bounty swelling alongside the number of captured women. The women themselves displayed a diverse range of emotions – anger, trepidation, and sorrow interwoven. Amidst this mosaic of sentiments, one woman stood apart, her fury palpable. Amidst the throng, her gaze narrowed onto Levitt, the leader of the raiders, a man marked by scars. Unperturbed, he met her defiant glare with an echoing laugh.
"And what plans have you in store for me, kajira?" he jeered, his mirth resonating.
Her retort was fierce, enunciated with a cutting contempt. "I am no slave," she retorted, a fire in her eyes. "I stand as Ar's Ubara, and I insist on the reverence due to such a position!"
The remaining women, encompassing this ensemble of noble ladies, raised their voices in harmonious accord with their Ubara's plea. They echoed her entreaty, beseeching recognition in accordance with their exalted positions. In an endeavor to secure their freedom, they extended the offer of even greater riches to their captors. Yet, these overtures were met with little more than shared amusement from the raiders. In response, one amongst the men extended an audacious gesture, the resounding slap on the posterior of a lady's figure punctuating the audacity of their response.
Levitt's gaze traversed the woman's form, a deliberate appraisal that ventured from her feet and returned to rest upon her countenance. "You drape no Ubara's robes nor even don the attire of a humble peasant. In truth, your attire is eclipsed even by the garments that grace the slaves I occasionally partake of in common taverns! You, my dear, stand as a kajira."
"But I am no kajira! I bear no collar nor am I burdened with the ignominy of a brand!"
Levitt's response was laced with a sardonic lilt. "The absence of a collar merely spares me the chore of relinquishing metal that doesn't belong to me. As for the latter, it presents a trivial challenge – particularly since your fate is inexorably tied to the slave block."
If the Ubara found herself astounded by this revelation, her countenance failed to betray it. "My ladies and I are clad in garments of opulence, draped in the finest attire. The apparent blindness that obscures your vision, however, merely attests to your lack of discernment in matters of elevated rank." Her ladies nodded in unison, their agreement palpable... albeit somewhat less resolute than before.
Aware of the pressing need for a swift retreat, Levitt issued a signal to his comrades, prompting them into action. Several dashed forth, bearing the precious bounty, their mission to ensure a clear passage for their band. Meanwhile, the remaining raiders commenced the task of securing the women – a haunting chorus of wails now echoed through the air, punctuating the scene. As lamentation permeated the surroundings, the raiders deftly fastened the women together, looping restraints around their necks and torsos.
Resolute and unyielding, the Ubara maintained her stance, her bearing unwavering as she locked her gaze onto Levitt's own. "I am vested as the Ubara of Ar, the sovereign of this city. I hereby command you to release not only myself, but these other free women, without delay!"
"I discern no free women," Levitt rumbled in a murmur, a low timbre akin to the purr of a larl. "No Ubara graces my sight. My eyes behold naught but well-groomed, well-shod slaves, who have yet to merit their morsels of silk."
The fate that befell the Ubara and her companions remains shrouded in mystery, a tale never fully unfolded. Nonetheless, it stands as a lasting admonition, a reminder that the tendrils of vanity warrant vigilance. A lesson that resonates even in the present day: those who hold genuine kinship would offer candor from the outset.
Gossip Wine "Oh, my dears, have you heard the scandalous whispers swirling around Gor?"
- Darlings, have you heard the scandalous whispers wafting through the enchanting city of Telnus on the Isle of Cos in the Gorean realm? It seems that the free women of this illustrious city are in quite the tizzy, with kajirae causing a delightful ruckus by eluding punishment for their playful antics! Oh, the horror! But hark, there's more to this tale than meets the eye, for these kajirae have mastered a skill that has travelers swooning in the streets. Yes, you heard right, dear hearts – they claim to possess the art of giving the finest head! One can only imagine the blushing faces and fluttering fans as the city's elite grapple with this cheeky revelation. Who knew the Isle of Cos could thrive in scandalous charm?
- Oh, my dears, you won't believe the uproar that graced Graydon Falls during its grand opening week! Picture this: a slaver's prized kajira waltzing into the tavern to offer a helping hand, only to have the sassy first girl of the establishment threaten her with a whipping! Well, you can bet your silken veils that the slaver's slave wasn't about to stand for that, so off she went to tattle to her master. But hold on, the tavern's own submissive sweetheart wasn't going to be outdone, oh no! She ran to her own master with the tale, and before you know it, those two masters found themselves in a proper tizzy of an argument. One shouting about not sending girls in to help, the other insisting he hadn't wanted any help from the start. Oh, what a spectacle it must've been – two grown men stomping off in a huff like sulking kajirae! Graydon Falls might need more than just a grand opening to recover from this lively bit of drama, my darlings!
- Oh, my scandal-loving friends, have you heard the latest decree echoing through the illustrious streets of Ar? Hold onto your silken veils, for it seems a high caste lady, none other than the Ubar's very own daughter, is on the prowl for companionship! But darlings, this isn't your ordinary matchmaking affair – no, no! The Ubarate has put its weight behind this venture, offering a proper dowry to any dashing free man brave enough to be, shall we say, "bought" into the family? Yes, you heard me right! In exchange for his worldly possessions, this gallant suitor is expected to pledge himself, heart and sword, to fighting Ar's battles. Oh, what a unique way to blend love, loyalty, and a little bit of plunder, don't you think? I can practically see the line of hopeful free men forming already, eager to win the heart of a high caste lady and a place on the frontlines!
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