A Gnat's Tale: A Story from Port Olni

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

This Gorean fiction and illustrations were created or edited with AI.

A Gnat's Tale: A Story of Port Olni

By Arealius, a Scribe of Port Olni, 

"Tal y’all!," I greeted the room with my usual cheer, catching the northern girl off guard. She quickly apologized for daydreaming and asked if she could serve me. Recognizing her as the “plucking girl,” I requested a small cup of paga and a tankard of ale. She chuckled, acknowledging my order, and headed to the kitchens.

As she prepared the drinks, we bantered about the recent vulo plucking incident. I mentioned the Inn cook’s preference for bosk meat, reminiscing about my youth filled with vulo meals. The northern girl returned with the drinks, balancing them skillfully, and knelt to present them. I couldn’t help but comment on her petite stature, which seemed larger when she was plucking vulo.

I toasted to Volo and downed the paga in one swig, followed by a hearty gulp of ale. Complimenting her service, I noted she brought honor to her trainer. She smiled, reminiscing about her past training and time spent in the north. Curious about her story, I asked if she could read, pointing to a poster about the Gazette.

The northern girl shared her journey from a market to Cardonicus, then to the Ubar, and finally to the north. I teased her about being a “silky,” a term she recognized from her northern travels. She laughed, determined to embrace more of the southern ways. Our conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared memories.

Just then, the city gate bell rang, announcing a visitor. I excused myself to check the gate. A traveling slaver and merchant introduced himself, seeking new trade routes. Isnala, a warrior and kennel guard, joined me at the gate. After a brief exchange, we invited the traveling slaver to the Inn. As the gate creaked open, Merve, the gatekeeper, grumbled about his duties.

Back at the Inn, I introduced the traveling slaver to the northern girl, who greeted him warmly. Isnala and I guided the traveling slaver inside, ensuring he felt welcome. The Inn buzzed with activity as we settled in, ready to hear more tales from our new guest.

As we resumed our conversation, I noticed the northern girl’s quick wit and charm. She joked about how swiftly she could pluck vulo, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Suddenly, I missed my seat and plopped down on the floor, quickly springing up to save face. The northern girl chuckled at my clumsiness and continued to serve with grace. Isnala excused himself to show his Lady around, leaving us to entertain the traveling slaver. The northern girl offered to fetch him a goblet of ka-la-na, ensuring our guest felt at home. The Inn was alive with laughter and stories, a perfect evening in Olni.

The traveling slaver nodded at the warrior, thanking him before taking a seat and stretching out. It had been a long and eventful journey. He watched the pretty enslaved girl, the northern girl, as she fetched his drink. She diligently poured the deep red ka-la-na, its color shining as she filled the goblet. Returning to the traveling slaver, she knelt and offered the drink with a smile, hoping it would please him.

The traveling slaver appreciated the old ways she followed, noting how long it had been since he enjoyed such service. He complimented her, and she thanked him warmly. I narrowed my eyes, recognizing the girl as Shendi. The traveling slaver asked for her name, and she introduced herself as the northern girl, sharing her story of being taken from a market to Cardonicus, then to the Ubar, and eventually to the north.

Another girl, the Shendi girl, knelt nearby, greeting us in her native tongue. She shared her tragic story of becoming a slave willingly after losing her people to the Black League of Shendi slavers. The traveling slaver listened intently, appreciating the tales and the service. The evening continued with stories and laughter, a testament to the rich tapestry of lives converging in Olni.

The Shendi girl smiled, revealing her somewhat sharp teeth, and stood gracefully for me to look upon her. The Warrior’s Lady, tired from exploring, joined us, asking if she could sit for a spell. I welcomed her warmly, my eyes traveling over the small slave whose exotic looks and smile intrigued me. I released the Shendi girl to serve the Freewoman, expressing my interest in speaking with her again soon.

The traveling slaver chuckled at the northern girl’s tales of adventure across Gor, asking if she preferred life in the north or south. The northern girl thoughtfully chose neither, feeling at home in Olni. The Shendi girl, nervous but determined, approached the Warrior’s Lady to serve her. The Warrior’s Lady requested black wine and cooled water, and the Shendi girl gracefully headed to the kitchen.

The traveling slaver grinned at the northern girl’s wise answer, sharing his own preference for the south despite enjoying the north’s unique pleasures. The northern girl joked about the Masters having more of their teeth here, making us laugh. I almost spat my ale at her comment but quickly recovered, glancing at the Warrior’s Lady to see if she noticed.

The traveling slaver, finishing his drink, tossed some coin on the table and asked the northern girl to show him a room for his stay. The northern girl agreed, leading him with a smile. The evening in Olni was filled with camaraderie, laughter, and the promise of more stories to come.

In the bustling kitchen, the cook was in a frenzy. She swung her left arm, then her right, trying to swat the elusive gnat. Her arm was getting sore, but she was determined. The little gnat darted back to its original spot, mocking her efforts. With a leap, she pounded the frying pan down where the gnat had just been, missing it by a hair.

Meanwhile, the Shendi girl moved with a calm grace. She walked to the kitchen counter, took down a mug, and meticulously wiped it clean, inside and out. Placing it carefully on the side, she then approached the hearth’s kettle. Ladling freshly made blackwine into the mug, she added some cream and prepared a small dish of sugar with a spoon. With everything ready, she made her way back to the Mistress.

The cook looked around as the gnat flew off again, her frustration clear. “Bang, bang, bang!” she muttered, smashing down with both hands onto the bowl that had just been the gnat’s playground. The field scribe chuckled at the scene unfolding before him. The Shendi girl, now kneeling carefully with the tray, whispered to her mistress, “Mistress the Shendi girl….” Just then, the cook exclaimed, “Oops, sorry about your cup, Lady!” The petite Shendi girl blinked, watching the mistress cook pound the table. “Don’t upset the mistress,” she thought to herself.

The Warrior’s Lady checked her robes, relieved that the last bit of blackwine hadn’t stained them. “It’s fine, the robes remained unstained!” she said with a smile. The cook, spotting the gnat landing on the scriber’s paga bowl, leaped across the table, frying pan poised above her head. “Oh, no!” the Lady Scribe exclaimed, bringing the blackwine as desired and holding the tray with her head lowered.

The paga bowl splintered into a thousand pieces as the cook’s frying pan came crashing down. The Warrior’s Lady whispered to the Lady Scribe, “Might want that to go!” A girl chuckled, hearing the mistress cook’s antics. The cook chased the gnat across the room towards the harp, her eyes wide with determination.

The Lady Scribe, completely ignoring the commotion, took the cup and spooned a bit of sugar into it. “Well done, girl… hide under the table,” she advised calmly, sipping her blackwine. The room was filled with the sounds of chaos as the cook continued her pursuit, the gnat flitting onto the traveling scribe's forehead. Her eyes went wide with surprise as the chase continued.

The Warrior’s Lady pondered aloud, “We might need to get a builder’s request scroll before long.” The Shendi girl giggled, “Oooh, it’s okay. Mistress the Shendi girl has had some bonks on the head in the past,” she nodded, “has a strong head,” but then ducked under the table to avoid any more bumps.

The cook raised the frying pan high over her head with both hands and rushed forward. The field scribe, standing still like one does in the open field when tarns are passing by, remarked, “We know the Inn cook very well; she is a friend of our family, part of our family.”

The Lady Scribe was impressed by the field scribe’s calm demeanor despite the chaos. “I’m just impressed that you are so calm even though your ale is everywhere,” she said. The field scribe whispered to her, “Could have been worse, it could have been in my hand.”

As the cook finally calmed down, the elusive gnat made its next daring move. It darted across the room, narrowly avoiding the cook’s grasp, and landed on the edge of the harp. The cook, now without her frying pan, looked around for another weapon. Spotting her famous wooden spoon, she grabbed it and tiptoed towards the gnat.

Meanwhile, the Shendi girl, still under the table, peeked out and whispered, “Mistress, the gnat is on the harp!” The Warrior’s Lady, trying to maintain her composure, nodded and signaled for everyone to stay quiet.

The gnat, sensing the tension, fluttered its wings and took off again, this time heading straight out of the open-air inn resulting it thunderous applause and adulation for the cook, the defender of the inn, and all its patrons.