Torvaldsland Remembered

This Gorean Fan Fiction was generated using MetaAI. 
Please note that the Gorean Saga is a fictional series, and its world,

customs, and values may not align with modern societal standards or moral principles.

Gor is Copyrighted by John Norman

Journal Entry of Ar the Sailor

Today, I had the pleasure of meeting Lady Lillian Lorenzo, a poet in the making. She introduced herself with a laugh, expressing her hope to one day earn a proper title. Our conversation quickly turned to my past, and I found myself recounting the tale of my time as ‘Ar the Sailor,’ known for my nautical charts.

I shared with her the story of the war declared by the Ubar of Tyros against the men of Torvaldsland, a conflict rooted in the clash between the followers of the Priest Kings and the northern men who believed in gods of their own creation. Lady Lillian listened intently, her eyes wide with curiosity.

I explained how I was once a merchant, or more accurately, a warehouseman, expelled from Port Kar and the scribes. The Ubar of Tyros, aware of my training as a scribe, sent me north to chart the coastline of Torvaldsland under the guise of a merchant. It was a dangerous mission, but one that I accepted, knowing the risks involved.

In Torvaldsland, I befriended Jarl Baine, the High Jarl of Iron Hall, and operated a warehouse for him near the docks. This war honed my skills as a cartographer, and I was well compensated for my efforts. However, my loyalties became divided as I grew to admire the Torvaldslanders for their simpler and more genuine way of life.

I recounted to Lady Lillian the harrowing experiences of fighting alongside the freemen of Iron Hall against a colony of Kur that terrorized the surrounding villages. These monstrous creatures used captured slaves as bait, a tactic that filled me with both horror and determination. Though I am no warrior, my skills with a bow proved invaluable in tracking the Kur and setting traps.

The warriors of Iron Hall, driven by their instinct to protect women in distress, often fell into the Kur’s traps. The dense woods of Torvaldsland provided the perfect cover for these swift and deadly creatures. I described to Lady Lillian the terrifying speed and sharpness of the Kur’s axes, and how we had to outnumber them significantly to stand a chance.

Our strategy involved firing arrows to weaken the Kur before charging in with the hope of overwhelming them. It was a perilous tactic, but one that was necessary for survival. I paused, taking a deep breath as I recalled the name of the cave where we once breached one of their underground lairs, though it escapes me now.

Lady Lillian’s reactions, from gasps to nods of understanding, reminded me of the importance of sharing these stories. They are a testament to the resilience and bravery of those who fought alongside me, and a reminder of the complex and often dangerous world we inhabit.

As our conversation continued, I shared more about the horrors we faced. The sight of a man drawn and quartered like a bosk, or the look in a woman’s eyes knowing her fate was to be eaten alive by a Kur, are images that haunt me still. Lady Lillian shivered visibly, understanding the gravity of these experiences.

I told her about the bonds kept as pets by the Kur, their minds shattered by the daily horrors they witnessed. The men of Iron Hall, in an act of mercy, would end their suffering. Lady Lillian nodded, recognizing the kindness in such a grim task.

The incursion of the Kurii ultimately ended the war. Ubar Galahad realized there was no honor in fighting a foe that shared a common enemy in the Kurii. The tarnships of Tyros and its allies withdrew, and I chose to stay, living among the Torvaldslanders for four years before sailing south.

Yours in service to Port Olni, Arealius (Ar)