Volume #1. September 2026
send by '' Unnamedkajira ''
Dearest treasured audience…
It has come to this author’s attention that while the Priest Kings may rule the heavens, it is sheer, unadulterated absurdity that rules the surface of Gor. Let us dive straight into the latest embarrassments currently echoing through out the land.
One suspects the quill may catch fire today, for the scandal swirling through the cities of Gor is positively volcanic.
And speaking of volcanoes,
Let us begin with the ever dramatic Bactu, Ubar of Turmus, that proud Tuchuck warrior whose ego is said to be larger than his entire herd. Rumor whispers that Bactu was recently seen attempting to impress a group of visiting merchants by wrestling a bosk bare handed. Unfortunately, the bosk, being far wiser than Bactu simply stepped aside, leaving the mighty Ubar to tumble head first into a trough. The splash was heard all the way to Ar.
But fear not, dearest confidant, for Bactu rose from the mud with all the dignity of a man who pretends he meant to do that. One witness swears he announced, “It is a Turian cleansing ritual,” while wiping dirt from his teeth.
Meanwhile, in the glittering halls of Valaris, Vulcan Arian, Ubar of Valaris, is learning that owning a prized kajira comes with its own set of distinct headaches. His lovely slave, Snow, has apparently developed a sudden and severe allergy to the very concept of serving. Sources report that when ordered to fetch her Master's evening ka-la-na wine, Snow accidentally tripped over her own silks, drenching the Ubar’s robes in deep red stain just moments before an important diplomatic meeting. The fearsome Ubar spent the night negotiating trade routes looking less like a conqueror and more like a freshly butchered verr.
Some claim Vulcan’s composure cracked so severely that he nearly smiled. Others insist it was merely a muscle spasm brought on by embarrassment. Either way, Snow has been forbidden from approaching rugs, steps, cushions, or flat surfaces of any kind.
But the most delicious comedy of errors belongs to the Isle of Teletus. Caine Steele, Ubar of Teletus, seems to have completely lost control of his domestic empire. Poor Caine is currently trapped in a treacherous tug of war between his kajira, Rya, and his Free Companion, the formidable Free Woman Muse Steele.
For the Ubar’s grand banquet, Muse envisioned a refined, multi course masterpiece including roasted glazed tarsk. She had given the task of roasting the tarsk to Rya. Rya, meanwhile, followed a simpler culinary philosophy, "If it fits in one giant iron pot and doesn’t crawl out before the lid shuts, it’s dinner.
So when the grand hall doors opened, the guests were greeted by the slave as she proudly rolled out a cauldron bubbling like angry swamp water. She had “glazed” an entire tarsk in a barrel of fermented honey, and had let it simmer all day long. Of course she had forgotten to remove the beasts innards.
Trying to preserve his authoritative dignity, the Ubar took the first heroic bite. Within seconds his face turned purple, his eyes bulged like a startled vulo, and he tore off outside to promptly evacuate his stomaches contents. Safe to say Ryas sludge did not go to waste. It was swiftly deposited in the manure pile to used for next years fertilizer. The Ubara Muse not amused, sent the girl to meanest old scullery cook to be trained properly.
Dear truth seekers, the affairs of these mighty Goreans may shape the fate of Gor… but their daily embarrassments shape the fate of our amusement. Should more gossip drift upon the wind, rest assured this humble writer shall seize it with both hands.
If you desire another letter, perhaps even spicier, I shall happily oblige.
Yours truly,
The Anonymous Lady Scibe
{For fictional entertainment purposes only. 2026}
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
