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The Scribe, Part 2

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This Gorean Fiction was generated using MetaAI.    The Scribe, Part 2 By Arealius the Sailor, Scribe of Port Olni. I, Arealius, dipped my reed pen into the inkwell, carefully inscribing the intricate symbols of the Gorean script onto the parchment. The scratch of the nib, the flow of the ink, and the precision of each stroke were meditative, calming my mind amidst the bustle of Port Kar. As a Rencer from the Vosk Delta, I never thought I'd find my place among the scribes of this vast, maritime city. Yet, here I was, over a year into my training, with a newfound passion for cartography and map-making. My mentor, Scribe Ramus, reviewed my latest project - a detailed chart of the city's canal network. "Excellent work, Arealius," he said, his eyes scanning the parchment. "Your attention to detail will serve you well in this caste." I beamed with pride. My skills had already contributed to several key projects: the renovation of the Grand Canal, the expansion of

The Great Flood of Pa-Kur By Arealius, Port Olni Caste of Scribes

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  This Gorean fiction and illustrations were created or edited with Meta AI. The Great Flood of Pa-Kur By Arealius, Port Olni Caste of Scribes 2nd Day, 10th Month, Year 10,174 Contasta Ar Amidst the chaos, I stood witness to Pa-Kur's downfall. Floodwaters ravaged the city, unleashing a catastrophe reminiscent of ancient lore. Once-thriving marketplaces transformed into churning rivers, sweeping away homes and livelihoods. One of the survivors, Edgar Regulus's words resurfaced, "The ground must rip, and the wave must win." The deluge had consumed the city's inn, where laughter and music once filled the air. I recalled tales of coastal cities ravaged by the Tamber Gulf's fury. Pa-Kur's plight seemed a grim reminder of nature's unstoppable power. The warrior, Simurgh Singh, stood tall, his eyes gleaming with warmth as he introduced himself. I bowed my head in respect, "Well met, Warrior of Pakur. I am Arealius Barbosa, Scribe of the Port Olni Caste.&