SHEILA THE QUEEN OF PANTHER

part 2°

 When the moon still hung high and the forest breathed a warm mist, Sheila raised her hand, and the entire tribe froze like a predatory beast. Ahead... a cracking of branches was heard in the fern thicket. A large bosk with long horns and black skin came out to drink at the stream. His muscular body glistened with the morning moisture, and his eyes glowed red in the moonlight. Sheila dropped to all fours, her bare thighs tensed, her clawed fingers digging into the soft earth. She didn't utter a word—only a short growl, and the panthers scattered in a semicircle, silent as shadows. Each knew its place: the two youngest, their bodies still untouched by a man's hand, went to the left to cut off any escape route; The elders, their thighs bearing the marks of old claw and whip scars, took up positions on the right, drawing their bows.

Sheila herself led the center. She moved low, her chest almost touching the moss, her long black hair trailing along the ground, concealing the gold rings on her wrists. The beast's scent—heavy, musky—filled her nostrils, and hunger flared in her green eyes, the same hunger that made her heart beat faster: the hunger of prey and the hunger of submission.

The bosk lowered its head toward the water. At that moment, Sheila leaped.

Her body rose in the air like a true panther—long legs extended, hands with splayed fingers ready to clutch the scruff of her neck. She landed on its back, her knees gripping the beast's sides, and her right arm instantly wrapped around its powerful neck. A narrow obsidian spear flashed in her left hand. With a single movement, she stabbed it beneath the shoulder blade, where the heart beat.

The beast roared and reared, trying to throw off the defiant female. But at that moment, arrows rained down from all sides—precise, merciless. Two entered the neck, a third pierced the eye. The tribe burst out of the thicket: naked bodies, covered in ritual paint and sweat, flashed among the vines. Spears pierced their sides, hands reached for their horns to direct their fall.

The beast took a few more steps, wheezing blood, and collapsed on its knees by the stream. Sheila didn't dismount—she remained astride, pressing her chest against the hot hide, feeling the last spasms spreading to her thighs. When the beast fell silent, she slowly rose and stood proudly on its broad back. Blood trickled down her legs, mixing with the ritual paint, and dripped onto the ground.

The tribe gathered around. Everyone knelt before their fallen prey and their leader. Sheila raised her bloody spear to the moon and let out a long, triumphant roar—a roar of victory and eternal readiness. Her body trembled with tension and excitement: she had proven her strength, but deep down she knew that if instead of the bosk, a man of Gor, worthy and merciless, had been here, she would have fallen before him just as this beast had fallen before her.

Now it was time to butcher the prey: skin it for new belts and collars, cut out the best cuts of meat for the feast. And then - to make a fire and dance around it, naked and free, until a new call is heard in the jungle, the call of the one who can catch Sheila herself and her wild panthers.

In the shade of a huge tree, where the tribe built a fire of fragrant branches to roast the meat of a fallen bosk, Sheila's first mate, Lyra, a wild panther with eyes the color of amber honey and a hide that shimmered bronze in the sun, always stood by her side.

Lyra was slightly shorter than the leader, but no less dangerous: her body, naked like all the sisters', was carved by the forest—long, muscular legs, a narrow waist, and full breasts marked by an old crescent-shaped scar just above her left nipple, a trophy from the claws of a sleen she killed with her bare hands on her first hunt.

Lyra's black hair was shorter than Sheila's, braided into numerous thin braids adorned with bone beads and the feathers of a night bird; Each braid jingled softly as she moved, warning her prey of approaching death.

On her right hip hung a narrow obsidian knife, its handle wrapped in a lock of hair from a once-defeated enemy, and around her neck hung a thin silver circlet, given to her by Sheila herself as a sign of trust and seniority. Lyra was the first to sample berries and mushrooms before the leader, the first to form a line during the hunt, and the first to kneel if Sheila raised her hand in danger.

On her right hip hung a narrow obsidian knife, its handle wrapped in a lock of hair from a once-defeated enemy, and around her forearm hung a thin silver circlet, given to her by Sheila herself as a sign of trust and seniority. Lyra was the first to sample berries and mushrooms before the leader, the first to form a line during the hunt, and the first to kneel if Sheila raised her hand in danger.

When Sheila washed her hands in the stream, Lyra stood behind, guarding, leaning on her spear. Her amber eyes watched the forest intently, but every now and then they slid over the leader's back—with devotion, with admiration.

Now, by the fire, Lyra squatted next to Sheila, holding out the best piece of meat—succulent, still steaming. Her movements were smooth, feline, her thighs slightly apart, her knees touching the ground in submission to her elder sister. She didn't speak—panthers rarely needed words—but her gaze clearly said: I am here. I follow you*

Sheila accepted the meat, touching Lyra's hand with her fingers—a brief but meaningful touch. The tribe fell silent, watching their two leaders: the black panther and the bronze one, whose bond was stronger than blood and sharper than fangs. Together, they were unstoppable in the forests...

A little distance from Sheila and Lyra sat the tribe's second mate, Kaira, the most silent and fiercest of them all.

Kaira was taller than most of her sisters, her body a mass of long muscles and taut lines, sculpted by years of climbing vines and silently leaping from branch to branch. Her skin was darker, almost the color of scorched earth, covered with a dense network of white scars—the memory of countless hunts and battles. The most prominent scar ran across her left breast, from collarbone to nipple, left by the fang of a forest tarsk she'd strangled with her bare hands when her spear snapped. Kaira's hair was cut short, almost to the roots, so that not a single strand would betray her in an ambush; only a thin braid of jet-black hair hung from her temple to her shoulder, adorned with three fangs from predators she'd personally killed. Two short, curved knives hung at her hips, and on her powerful forearms were leather vambraces studded with spikes, which she used to break the necks of enemies in close combat. Unlike Lyra, Kaira never wore silver or gold—only one sign of her status: a thick leather collar made of black sleen hide, a bracelet Sheila herself had placed on her after Kaira single-handedly killed a pack of zeders threatening the tribe. The bracelet was wide, fitting snugly around her wrist, and hung from it a single bone plate carved with the symbol of a panther—a sign that this warrior was second only to Lyra and ready at any moment to become first, should the hunt or fate demand it.

Kaira squatted, her knees spread wide, her elbows resting on her thighs, and her dark eyes, almost black and pupilless in the firelight, watched every movement around her. She ate little, spoke even less—her voice, low and hoarse, was heard only in battle or when Sheila asked for advice. When Lyra handed Sheila the best piece of meat, Kaira silently moved another branch toward the fire to brighten the flames and gave the leader a brief nod—a sign of complete, unconditional devotion.

Everyone in the tribe knew: if Lyra represented Sheila's mind and loyalty, then Kaira represented her fangs and claws. She was the first to rush into the thick of the fight, the first to stand between danger and her sisters.

Now she raised her head, sniffed the night wind, and growled softly—barely audible, but enough to instantly make Sheila and Lyra tense. Kaira caught a foreign scent—faint but masculine, coming from downwind. Her hand settled on the hilt of her knife, her body tensed like a spring. The second mate was ready. The hunt for the beast was over. Perhaps another was beginning.

A small detachment, heading for Laurium, moved slowly along a narrow path worn by trade caravans. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a tattered leather jerkin, a sword at his belt, and a heavy crossbow slung over his back—clearly a mercenary guard—walked in front. Behind him, an older man with a graying beard led two pickaxes laden with bales; coins jingled in a purse at his belt, identifying him as the caravan's master. Bringing up the rear was a woman—slender, with long dark hair braided into a ponytail, wearing a long silk traveling dress that attempted to conceal the curves of her body. Silver bracelets glittered on her wrists, and a mixture of weariness and wariness shone in her eyes. They didn't yet know that the trail had long belonged to Sheila's panthers.

Sheila slowly turned her head toward Lyra, her lips curling into a predatory smile. Lyra nodded, the muscles of her bronze body tensing, the crescent-shaped scar above her chest seeming to come alive in anticipation of new prey.

A quiet, almost inaudible roar echoed through the jungle—a signal. The savages silently took up positions: some climbed into the lower branches, others slipped into the undergrowth, surrounding the strangers in a tight but invisible ring.

The caravan continued on, unaware that just a few steps away, the naked, powerful bodies of the panther sisters were poised to spring, their green and amber eyes watching their every move with the primal hunger and passion characteristic of the Gorean forests.

Kaira, Sheila's second mate, suddenly froze, her sensitive nose catching a foreign scent—faint but distinctly masculine, wafting from downwind.

She turned silently to Sheila, her lips curling in a silent growl, and the leader nodded, understanding the signal. Lyra, standing on the other side, also caught the warning—her amber eyes flashed, the crescent scar on her chest seeming to pulse in anticipation.

But the scent wasn't coming from the three on the trail. It was coming from the side, deeper in the thicket, separate from the caravan. Alone. Strong. Dangerous.

Kaira slipped into the undergrowth, her body a shadow among shadows, her thighs and buttocks tensed with each step, her chest barely heaving—the panther's breathing was perfectly controlled. Behind her, at Sheila's signal, three more sisters separated, naked and silent, leaving the main circle around the caravan undisturbed.

The caravan trail continued to move: the mercenary ahead glanced warily, the senior trader muttered something,

and the woman, feeling the weight of gazes she hadn't seen before, involuntarily pressed her hand to her throat, where her heart beat beneath the thin cloth.

But now Sheila's panthers had two prey.

One—open, walking along the trail.

The other—hidden, thinking she was hunting herself. Kaira smiled in the darkness of the foliage, her knife glinting, reflecting the glimmer of the sun. The hunt had only just begun.

Kaira and her three panther sisters silently closed the circle around their hidden prey. The scent grew stronger—masculine, mingled with the dust of city streets and the faint scent of fear. From the undergrowth, carefully making his way along a barely visible animal trail, he emerged: a slave from Hüsvík, a town near Laurius, escaping from his master's chains.

He was tall, muscular, with a body forged by years of hard labor—broad shoulders covered with old whip scars, powerful arms still bound with scraps of rope at the wrists, and dark hair tangled from the long journey. He wore only a pitiful loincloth of coarse fabric, barely covering his hips, and a fresh mark on his neck from the steel collar he'd managed to tear off was visible. His eyes, gray and wary, scanned the jungle—he followed the scent of water, hoping to reach a stream and hide further from the city.

But he was already ambushed.

Kaira was the first to slip out of the shadows, her naked, bronze-hued body flashing before him like lightning. A knife pressed against his throat before he could cry out, and her full breasts, adorned with streaks of charcoal paint, brushed against his. *Don't move, male* she purred in a low, guttural voice, full of primal power. Her dark eyes bored into his, and her hips pressed tightly against his, making him feel all the strength and heat of a wild panther. The other sisters approached silently from behind—strong, naked bodies surrounding him in a tight circle. One grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back with ease, another deftly bound his wrists with rope as strong as the steel chains of Horus. He didn't resist—he knew that in this jungle, resistance meant death. Or something worse.

Kaira took a step back, eyeing her prey with a predatory smile. The muscles of her flat stomach and long legs rippled beneath her skin, and the knife still gleamed in her hand.

She gave a soft whistle—a signal to Sheila. Far off, by the trail, the leader heard it and nodded to Lyra: the caravan can wait. This prey first.

The slave sank to his knees under the weight of the savage women's arms, his muscular body tensing, but his eyes already filling with that mixture of fear and desire that Sheila's panthers knew how to evoke in males. Kaira leaned closer, her lips almost touching his ear. *You will join our tribe... in our way.*

The jungle froze in anticipation. The hunt was a success. Now the taming began.

story by katysha

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photo from the inventory

darian-editor

 

 Darian,

"Sa Fora Kef dancers Asanei  and Sarah starred in "The Kajira Dance" . a Cat House Productions/Phoenix video, directed by  Gemma Velverleaf, November 2025. Asaeni and Sarah were voted the #2 and #3 best models at Phoenix Studios this month

. Here are are some screen shots form the video􀀂􀀁􀀀

darian - editor

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Invitation to the Physician Fair 2026 in Besnit

January 16–18, 2026

We cordially invite you to the Physician Fair 2026, which will take place in Besnit from January 16 to 18, 2026. This special trade fair brings together medical professionals, trainees, manufacturers, and other interested parties, offering a unique platform for exchange, continuing education, and discovery.

The Venue: Besnit

Besnit is known for its welcoming atmosphere and easy accessibility. The town combines tradition with an openness to innovation and, with its event spaces, provides the ideal setting for a medical trade fair. Visitors can also enjoy the town's cultural and culinary offerings in addition to the fair.

The Program

The Physician Fair offers a diverse and practical program:

Market with vendor booths

Discover a wide range of medical products, medications, and traditional and modern medicinal herbs. Expert exhibitors will be available for consultations and discussions.

Scientific lectures

Renowned speakers will present current findings, new treatment methods, and developments from various medical specialties.

Information sessions from educational institutions

Schools, academies, and training centers for medical professions will present their programs and provide information about training and continuing education opportunities in the healthcare sector.

Whether you want to further your professional development, learn about new products, or network – the Physician Fair 2026 in Besnit provides the perfect setting.

We look forward to your visit!

sent by sabayna

darian-editor

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Part 1:SHEILA    

The Panther's Queen

Deep in the forest, where night fell like heavy velvet and the moon silvered the leaves, Sheila gathered her tribe in a sacred clearing, a place known only to panther hunters. It was the Ritual of the Hunt , an ancient rite in which the wild women of Gor affirmed their strength, their beauty, and their eternal readiness to become prey to those worthy.

Sheila entrò al centro del cerchio, nuda, con solo una sottile cintura di pelle di pantera nera che le cingeva i fianchi e un cerchietto dorato che le luccicava sull'avambraccio, segno di una leader che non si era mai arresa a nessun uomo. Il suo corpo, ricoperto di pittura rituale a forma di strisce di artigli, luccicava dell'olio di orchidee selvatiche.

I suoi seni si sollevarono, i capezzoli induriti dall'aria fresca della notte e dall'attesa. La tribù – dodici guerriere altrettanto nude – formò un semicerchio attorno a lei, con le lance piantate nel terreno e inginocchiate.

Sheila alzò le mani verso la luna ed emise un ruggito basso e gutturale: un richiamo alla Grande Pantera, dea della foresta e della passione femminile. La tribù rispose a tono, e l'aria tremò delle loro voci, piene di potere primordiale.

Poi la capo tribù prese una coppa ricavata dal cranio di una larl un tempo sconfitta, riempita con il denso succo di bacche rosse e miele fermentato. Bevve per prima, lasciando che il succo le scorresse lungo il mento e sul petto, lasciando strisce scarlatte sulla pelle: il segno del sangue della loro futura preda. Ogni cacciatrice si avvicinò a turno, bevve dalla stessa coppa e permise a Sheila di segnare il suo corpo: con le dita sporche di succo, tracciò una linea dalla gola fino ai seni, fino allo stomaco e poi alla vulva, dove il segno terminava con un tratto netto, come un artiglio. Era una promessa: quel giorno avrebbero cacciato, ma se avessero incontrato un uomo degno di Horus, si sarebbero inginocchiate davanti a lui e si sarebbero offerte come trofeo.

Dopo l'unzione, la danza ebbe inizio. Sheila si mosse per prima: lentamente, con fare predatorio, i fianchi che ondeggiavano al ritmo di tamburi invisibili, le braccia che si contorcevano sopra la testa, imitando gli artigli. Si voltò di scatto, si mise a quattro zampe, inarcò la schiena e ringhiò, mostrando i denti bianchi. La tribù seguì l'esempio e presto l'intera radura divenne un turbine di corpi nudi, sudore, vernice e calore femminile. Si strofinarono spalle, fianchi e seni l'uno contro l'altro, non per lussuria, ma in un'unione di forza e sottomissione.

Quando la luna raggiunse lo zenit, Sheila conficcò la lancia nel terreno ed emise un ultimo grido. La tribù si sollevò. La vernice sui loro corpi luccicò, i loro occhi brillarono di verde. Erano pronte. Il rituale era completo.

Ora aveva inizio la vera caccia: silenziose come ombre, le pantere di Sheila scivolavano nella giungla alla ricerca di una preda... e, forse, per incontrare quella che avrebbe potuto catturarle.

Un piccolo distaccamento, diretto a Laurium, procedeva lentamente lungo uno stretto sentiero battuto dalle carovane commerciali. Un uomo alto e dalle spalle larghe, con un farsetto di cuoio lacero, una spada alla cintura e una pesante balestra a tracolla – chiaramente una guardia mercenaria – camminava in testa. Dietro di lui, un uomo anziano con la barba grigia guidava due picconi carichi di balle; le monete tintinnavano in una borsa alla cintura, identificandolo come il capo della carovana. Chiudeva la fila una donna: snella, con lunghi capelli scuri intrecciati in una coda di cavallo, che indossava un lungo abito da viaggio di seta che cercava di nascondere le curve del corpo. Braccialetti d'argento scintillavano ai suoi polsi e un misto di stanchezza e circospezione le brillava negli occhi. Non sapevano ancora che quel sentiero apparteneva da tempo alle pantere di Sheila.

Sheila girò lentamente la testa verso Lyra, le labbra che si curvavano in un sorriso predatorio. Lyra annuì, i muscoli del suo corpo bronzeo si irrigidirono, la cicatrice a forma di mezzaluna sopra il petto sembrò animarsi in attesa di una nuova preda.

Un ruggito sommesso, quasi impercettibile, echeggiò nella giungla: un segnale. I selvaggi presero posizione silenziosamente: alcuni si arrampicarono sui rami più bassi, altri si infilarono nel sottobosco, circondando gli stranieri in un anello stretto ma invisibile.

La carovana proseguì, ignara che a pochi passi di distanza, i corpi nudi e possenti delle sorelle pantera erano pronti a scattare, i loro occhi verdi e ambrati osservavano ogni loro mossa con la fame primordiale e la passione caratteristiche delle foreste goreane.

Kaira, la seconda compagna di Sheila, si bloccò improvvisamente, il suo naso sensibile colse un odore estraneo, debole ma distintamente maschile, che proveniva dal vento.

Si voltò silenziosamente verso Sheila, le labbra arricciate in un ringhio silenzioso, e la capo annuì, comprendendo il segnale. Anche Lyra, in piedi dall'altra parte, colse l'avvertimento: i suoi occhi ambrati lampeggiarono, la cicatrice a mezzaluna sul suo petto sembrò pulsare in attesa.

Ma l'odore non proveniva dalle tre sul sentiero. Proveniva da un lato, più in profondità nel folto, separata dalla carovana. Sola. Forte. Pericolosa.

Kaira scivolò nel sottobosco, il suo corpo un'ombra tra le ombre, cosce e glutei tesi a ogni passo, il petto che si sollevava appena – il respiro della pantera era perfettamente controllato. Dietro di lei, al segnale di Sheila, altre tre sorelle si separarono, nude e silenziose, lasciando indisturbato il cerchio principale attorno alla carovana.

Il sentiero della carovana continuò a muoversi: il mercenario davanti a lei lanciò un'occhiata circospetta, il mercante anziano borbottò qualcosa,

e la donna, sentendo il peso di sguardi che non aveva mai visto prima, si premette involontariamente una mano sulla gola, dove il suo cuore batteva sotto il tessuto sottile. Ma ora le pantere di Sheila avevano due prede.

Una, scoperta, che camminava lungo il sentiero.

L'altra, nascosta, convinta di essere lei stessa a cacciare. Kaira sorrise nell'oscurità del fogliame, il suo coltello luccicava, riflettendo il bagliore del sole. La caccia era appena iniziata.

Kaira e le sue tre sorelle pantere chiusero silenziosamente il cerchio attorno alla loro preda nascosta. L'odore si fece più forte: maschile, mescolato alla polvere delle strade cittadine e al debole odore di paura. Dal sottobosco, avanzando con cautela lungo una pista di animali appena visibile, emerse: uno schiavo di Hüsvík, una città vicino a Laurius, in fuga dalle catene del suo padrone.

Era alto, muscoloso, con un corpo forgiato da anni di duro lavoro: spalle larghe coperte di vecchie cicatrici di frusta, braccia possenti ancora legate con pezzi di corda ai polsi e capelli scuri arruffati dal lungo viaggio. Indossava solo un misero perizoma di tessuto grezzo, che gli copriva a malapena i fianchi, e sul collo era visibile un segno fresco del collare d'acciaio che era riuscito a strappare. I suoi occhi, grigi e guardinghi, scrutavano la giungla: seguì l'odore dell'acqua, sperando di raggiungere un ruscello e nascondersi più lontano dalla città.

Ma era già in agguato.

Kaira fu la prima a sgattaiolare fuori dall'ombra, il suo corpo nudo, color bronzo, che gli balenava davanti come un lampo. Un coltello gli premette la gola prima che potesse gridare, e i suoi seni prosperosi, decorati con pennellate di carboncino, sfiorarono i suoi. *Non muoverti, maschio* sussurrò con voce bassa e gutturale, piena di potere primordiale. I suoi occhi scuri lo trafissero, e i suoi fianchi si strinsero forte contro i suoi, facendogli sentire tutta la forza e il calore di una pantera selvaggia. Le altre sorelle si avvicinarono silenziosamente da dietro: corpi forti e nudi lo circondarono in un cerchio stretto. Uno gli afferrò le braccia, torcendole dietro la schiena con facilità, un altro gli legò abilmente i polsi con una corda resistente come le catene d'acciaio di Horus. Non oppose resistenza: sapeva che in quella giungla resistere significava morte. O qualcosa di peggio.

Kaira fece un passo indietro, osservando la sua preda con un sorriso predatorio. I muscoli del suo ventre piatto e delle lunghe gambe le si incresparono sotto la pelle, e il coltello le luccicava ancora in mano.

Emise un fischio sommesso: un segnale a Sheila. Lontano, lungo il sentiero, il capo lo sentì e fece un cenno a Lyra: la carovana può aspettare. Prima questa preda.

Lo schiavo cadde in ginocchio sotto il peso delle braccia della selvaggia donna, il suo corpo muscoloso si irrigidì, ma i suoi occhi si riempirono già di quel misto di paura e desiderio che le pantere di Sheila sapevano evocare nei maschi. Kaira si sporse più vicino, le sue labbra quasi gli sfiorarono l'orecchio. *Ti unirai alla nostra tribù... a modo nostro.*

La giungla si bloccò nell'attesa. La caccia.e funzionò. Ora l'addomesticamento ebbe inizio.

fine prima parte

 story by katisha

darian-editor

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LIST OF GORENANS PRESENT IN THE "GOREANS GALLERY"

Below are the names of the people featured on the gallery walls. Everyone is welcome to visit. If you don't see your name, please send me a photo, and I'll add your name and place it in a frame on the wall.

I'll list the names of the Goreans in the gallery in alphabetical order.

I'll include the link to the gallery. For any further information, please call me or send me a message.

DARIAN EL NAIRAD (ulisse1)  

http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Waterfalls%20of%20Wonder/194/244/26

 

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http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Waterfalls%20of%20Wonder/189/203/24

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WALL OF FAME

lady Sabayna

lady alisya jensen (roberta)

lady janette+

lady lucy bronet+

sir nicholas eel

sir marcus brandon

sir rarius yuroki

lady mae  (leidolf el congo)

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A :aliden steele, arson sparta, angel raine, augustus bade, abraham jacobson, aiko sakura, aria, athena, armand defleur, alisya jensen,

B: black larl, bradley,bea learl usamil, betty

C: candy, caine, captan yo, princess morigan, carrie, carolina gallius, cow girl, callyope,

D: derek, dagur, dara, drusus amadeus, david wrigth.

E: ember-master, elina naidoo, euron

F: freya monlite, franken

G: gil levee

H: hjarta, heart, hermine, haymann, 

I: ivarr, ikiro takahashi (pani).

Y:   jusud assad congo, janette, joshetu, yuroki rarius,  jariss, 

K: kristie, kara serin, kamilah fireheart. kevin, koardan, knigth chemistry, kelly,

L:  laura,luarr, lord cougar, lalasa ikerrei, luella (lilith), lady bea, lucy bronet +, lacey chaos, lucky luke-daisy, leif skogvard.      lev osala. lilly el congo,

M:   mal 2, mae umar congo, mla obimann, macha, mia dinzeo, marcus brandon, sir matt, monique, mikail jun, misty-tyros, misaki, milena orsini, mikka, mia, mews, maki (pani)

N:  nameless, nia, nani,naya tears, nicholas eel

O:  omega, 

P:  princess morrigan, plume, pippa blue, pani sabina queen,

Q:  queen (pani)

R:  rikki,ranna, rumpelstilz, ruby, 

S: sable onyx, spanker auro, skyggen (black), sina astinghs, signy, 

T: tai rhapsody, turiann saku, tarek congo, tariq-initiate,

U: utred ragnasson

V: varn, viviana,

Z: zane kenzo, zaratustra,

W: wilkl munforth

X: xarrarose,

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darian-editor

CHRISTMAS INVITE
 

 

 ON THE ROAD TO HAMMERSGAARD

 

SILVER BLADE FJORD

-merchant headquarter- hiddem falls-

Lately I've been traveling from one city to another, I stopped in the city of AR'station , they had promised me a job as a Caste Leader or Magistrate, but the opportunities were lacking and I found myself alone in the temporary headquarters of the newspaper (I opened a page dedicated to the city of AR's) set up in a room dedicated to the printing of news of the Merchants caste.

   I had found Lady Sharni Neox , an old acquaintance of mine met in other cities like Scribe,

but she too was looking for her own dimension that she didn't find, and she left for a trip to the cities overlooking the Wosk river , she sent me messages asking me where I was, and if I had finished the reconstruction of the new Oasis of the 7 Palms and the new Gorean Gallery , I wrote to her saying that I was well underway inviting her, I'm still waiting for her reply.

   Meanwhile, my Friend Nani, (I wrote her story as a Panther who lived incognito at the tavern on the docks of Hammersgaard ,

He lived there because he was chasing Sir Erik the Keeper , and by him he had a son who, now grown up, went on his own way.

Nani invited me to the new village under construction of Hammersgaard , remember that the Pirates had attacked that village, setting it on fire and killing many Viking inhabitants, we escape into the forest, up to the borders of Nani's Father's Kingdom , he gave him a vast region, which overlooks a lagoon that flows into the sea.

    I left AR's before the snow in the North, like every year, blocks everything. I wanted to return to live with them in that beautiful fjord, where I have many friends. The new Jarl is called Hutred Ragnasson ,
a tall, big man armed to the teeth, sometimes grumpy, but certainly a great Warrior, who takes care of his people. I would have seen the beautiful Tania again, and of course my dear Nani.

     We were sailing north, and after passing the Kos archipelago , the weather was already changing, the large white clouds had taken the place of the sunny blue sky, small sheets of ice could be seen on the surface of the sea, descending with the current, but we knew that at this time of year in the north it is always like this.

    Towards evening the weather changed for the worse, the wind increasing more and more, the ship faced the high waves created by the wind, the sails slowed the ship rather than guiding it. After a few hours of battling against the cold wind, it began to snow, first slowly, then in flakes that quickly covered the deck of the ship. We were worried, until in the distance we spotted some fires on the reef. We tried to head towards those fires and found ourselves in a small gulf. The fires became numerous with many lights, undoubtedly a village. We were happy to have found shelter and, in agreement with the Captain, we anchored in the roadstead of that village and then we would go down to the port in the morning.

     I arrived early in the morning. I hadn't slept. I was anxious to find out if we had ended up among friends or in some outlaw village. I went out on deck. The Captain put a launch into the sea and ordered some sailors to act as an escort. We would go down to the dock where some Viking ships were moored.

    Arriving at that dock, we read the signs. We had reached the village of "Silver Blade Fjord." A sign read "Northern Merchants Headquarters." We stopped at the tavern on the harbor, where a young woman served us and asked for directions. That day, everyone had left at dawn for a nearby village. They would return in the evening at a fair, so all we could do was wait in that tavern while the sailors bought provisions for the journey.

I'm waiting to speak with their Jarl, in the meantime I made some sketches of the village which I will post at the bottom of this page.

darian-editor

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