We Were Slaves by Arealius the Scribe
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
We Were Slaves
I remember the day well. The tavern was bustling with the usual crowd, but one man stood out. Clad in black, his presence sent a shiver down my spine. The mark on his wrist and the way he carried himself made it clear—he was one killer of the Black Caste of Assassins. Despite the fear gnawing at my insides, I knew I had to serve him well.
With trembling hands, I approached his table. “How may this girl serve you, Master?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. His eyes, cold and calculating, met mine.
“Wine,” he replied curtly.
As I fetched his drink, I couldn't shake the feeling that his presence was a harbinger of something ominous. I served him with utmost care, ensuring his cup was never empty and his needs were met promptly. He acknowledged my efforts with a slight nod, and I dared to hope I had made a favorable impression.
That night, as the tavern emptied, and the moon rose high in the sky, the peace was shattered by the deafening roar of tarns. Tarnsmen from Treve descended upon our village, dropping fire bombs that set buildings ablaze. Panic swept through the streets, and the acrid smell of smoke filled the air.
I could hear the cries of my fellow kajirae as they were captured, their screams piercing the night. The Tarnsmen stormed the tavern, and as they barged in, I saw the Killer, calm and composed, standing his ground. One of the Tarnsmen shouted towards us, "We'll be back for the girl!"
Fear gripped me, but the Killer’s presence gave me an unexpected sense of security. He moved with lethal grace, dispatching the raiders who dared to approach. In the chaos, he seized me by the arm and led me through a hidden passageway, out of the burning tavern and into the relative safety of the forest.
We caught our breath, and I looked up at him, grateful yet bewildered. “Why did you save me, Master?”
His expression softened ever so slightly. “You served me well. No kajira should suffer at the hands of Tarnsmen.”
As we watched the village burn from our hiding spot, the reality of the devastation hit me. Homes were reduced to ashes, and the cries of the captured echoed in the distance. The Killer, still calm and composed, turned to me.
“There is more to this than you know, Lilly,” he began, his voice low and measured. “I was once a Tarnsman of Treve.”
The revelation stunned me. How could a Killer of the Black Caste have such a past? My confusion must have shown, for he continued.
“I left that life behind,” he said, “but I still have unfinished business. The raid tonight... it is not just an attack on your village. It is a message, a signal to those who know where to look.”
“What message, Master?” I asked, my curiosity overcoming my fear.
As we stood amidst the darkness of the forest, the flickering flames of the burning village casting eerie shadows on the trees, the Killer's gaze seemed to pierce through the night.
"The message is for me," he continued, his voice laced with a hint of resolve. "A reminder of a debt unpaid, a promise unkept."
I dared not ask what debt or promise, sensing the weight of his words.
"What will you do, Master?" I asked instead, my voice barely above a whisper.
The Killer's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "I will settle this score, Lilly. And you... you will come with me."
His words sent a shiver down my spine. What did he mean? Why would he, a Killer of the Black Caste, need me by his side?
As if sensing my trepidation, he added, "You have skills, Lilly. Skills that could prove useful in the days ahead."
Before I could ask, he turned, his movements fluid and purposeful. "We must leave. The Tarnsmen will return, and next time, they won't be so easily deterred."
As we walked, the silence between us grew thick with unspoken questions. What lay ahead? What dangers would we face? And what did the Killer mean by "unfinished business"?
As we stood amidst the darkness of the forest, the flickering flames of the burning village casting eerie shadows on the trees, the Killer's gaze seemed to pierce through the night.
"The message is for me," he continued, his voice laced with a hint of resolve. "A reminder of a debt unpaid, a promise unkept."
I dared not ask what debt or promise, sensing the weight of his words.
"What will you do, Master?" I asked instead, my voice barely above a whisper.
The Killer's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "I will settle this score, Lilly. And you... you will come with me."
His words sent a shiver down my spine. What did he mean? Why would he, a Killer of the Black Caste, need me by his side?
I thought back to my life in the tavern, serving patrons with precision and care. What skills could apply to the Killer's quest?
Before I could ask, he turned, his movements fluid and purposeful. "We must leave. The Tarnsmen will return, and next time, they won't be so easily deterred."
With that, he led me deeper into the forest; the darkness swallowing us whole.
The only certainty was that my life had changed forever, bound now to the whims of this enigmatic figure, a Killer with a mysterious past and a hidden agenda. As we moved through the dense forest, I couldn’t help but wonder what debts and promises had brought such a formidable man to my village, and why fate had intertwined our paths in such a dramatic fashion. The future seemed uncertain, but one thing was clear: I would have to be braver and more resourceful than ever before.
As we moved through the dense forest, the Killer's pace was relentless. The flickering flames of the burning village grew distant, but the weight of the night's events hung heavy in the air. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was stepping into a world far more dangerous and complex than I had ever known.
After what felt like hours, we reached a small clearing. The Killer finally stopped, allowing me to catch my breath. He turned to me, his expression unreadable.
"Lilly," he began, "there are things you need to understand about the path we are on. The power struggle in Treve is not just about control. It is about survival. The one who seeks to unseat the leaders is ruthless and will stop at nothing to achieve his goals."
I listened intently, my fear mingling with curiosity. "Who is this person, Master?"
"His name is Marlenus," the Killer replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "He was once a trusted ally, but his ambition has turned him into a threat. He seeks to control Treve and will use any means necessary to do so."
The name sent a chill down my spine. Marlenus was known for his cunning and brutality. If he was behind the raid, then we were indeed in grave danger.
"What can we do, Master?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"We must gather allies," the Killer said. "There are those who still honor the old ways, who will stand against Marlenus. But we must be careful. Trust is a rare commodity in these times."
As we continued our journey, the Killer taught me skills I never thought I would need. He showed me how to move silently through the forest, how to read the signs of nature, and how to defend myself if necessary. Each lesson was a step towards survival, a preparation for the battles that lay ahead.
Days turned into weeks as we traveled from village to village, seeking those who would join our cause. Along the way, I learned more about the Killer's past, about the promises he had made and the debts he sought to repay. His story was one of honor and betrayal, of loyalty and vengeance.
Through it all, I remained by his side, my fear gradually giving way to determination. I was no longer just a kajira; I was a part of something greater, a fight for justice and survival.
Night had fallen, and the forest was cloaked in darkness. The only light came from the distant glow of the fires in the village, now taken by the Tarnsmen of Treve. They were using it as a secure camp for the night, distracted by the spoils and women they had captured from both villages.
We crouched behind a thick veil of foliage, the Killer's eyes fixed intently on the village. His gaze burned with a quiet intensity, fueling my determination.
"Tonight, we strike," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.
My heart quickened, anticipation coursing through my veins. Weeks of gathering allies, strategizing, and preparing had led to this moment.
The Killer's plan was bold: infiltrate the Tarnsmen's camp, free the captured kajirae, and deal a crippling blow to Treve's forces. Easy to say, but the risks were palpable.
As we observed the village, I noticed the Tarnsmen's laxity. They were complacent, believing themselves secure in their conquest.
The Killer nodded, sensing my unspoken question. "Their arrogance will be their downfall."
With a fluid motion, he drew his blade, its edge glinting in the faint firelight.
"Stay close, Lilly," he whispered, his eyes locking onto mine. "We'll move swiftly, striking where they least expect it."
Before the attack, the Killer and I had put our plan into motion. We had poisoned the Tarnsmen's evening meal, lacing their wine and meat with a subtle yet potent concoction.
The Killer, with his knowledge of Treve's tactics, had gained the poison from a trusted ally before traveling to my village. I, with my experience serving in the tavern, had ensured its discreet distribution.
As night fell, the village settled into a false sense of security. The Tarnsmen, sated and drunken, retired to their tents or seized houses that were left standing. .
We waited, hidden in the shadows, as the hours ticked by. The Killer's eyes never left the village, his gaze piercing the darkness.
"Patience, Lilly," he whispered, sensing my restlessness. "We must let the poison take hold."
I nodded, understanding. The poison wouldn't kill, but it would incapacitate, buying us time and advantage.
As the night wore on, the village grew quieter. The Tarnsmen's revelry ceased, replaced by the occasional groan or stumble.
The Killer handed me one of his knives and nodded, his signal to move. "Now."
We glided toward the eastern gate, the guards' slumped forms evidence of the poison's effectiveness.
With swift precision, the Killer dispatched the remaining guards, ensuring silence.
We slipped into the village, melting into the shadows. Our target was the central longhouse, where the Tarnsmen leaders would likely be incapacitated.
The Killer signaled for me to wait, then disappeared into the night.
Moments later, a commotion erupted inside the longhouse. Shouts, crashes, and screams echoed through the night air.
Amidst the mayhem, I spotted a familiar face–Elara, a fellow kajira from my village. I rushed to her side, helping her escape. She had not eaten being a captive, enslaved girl.
As we fled the burning village, the Killer's gaze met mine. A hint of approval flickered in his eyes.
As we fled the burning village, Elara clung to my arm, her eyes wide with fear and gratitude.
"Thank you, Lilly," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
The Killer's gaze flicked to Elara, then back to me. "We need to move."
We navigated through the forest, avoiding Tarnsmen patrols. Elara struggled to keep pace, her legs trembling.
After hours of walking, the Killer halted, scanning our surroundings. "We'll follow the Vosk River's northern branch. It'll lead us to Sais."
Elara's eyes sparkled with hope. "Sais? But that's a free city."
The Killer's expression remained impassive. "We'll find shelter there."
Days passed, and we followed the river, encountering travelers and traders. The Killer's caution never wavered.
Finally, the city of Sais emerged from the horizon. Its walls and towers shimmered in the sunlight.
As we entered the city, Elara's excitement grew. "Lilly, we're safe now."
But I sensed unease. Something didn't feel right.
The Killer led us through winding streets, stopping at a nondescript building. A slaver's symbol adorned the door.
My heart sank.
The Killer's eyes locked onto mine, cold and calculating. "This is where we part ways."
Elara's smile faltered. "What do you mean?"
The Killer's voice was detached. "You're valuable. You'll fetch a good price."
Elara's eyes widened in horror. "No, please!"
I felt a chill run down my spine. The Killer had used us.
The slaver, a portly man with a cruel grin, emerged from the shadows.
"Ah, Killer. You've brought gems. I'll give you a fair price."
The Killer's gaze never wavered. "I want 500 silver pieces for each."
My mind reeled. We were being sold.
Elara clung to me, trembling. "Lilly, what can we do?"
I had no answer.
The slaver counted out the coins, and the Killer pocketed them.
As the slaver's men closed in, the Killer turned to leave.
"Wait!" I called out, desperation creeping into my voice.
The Killer's gaze flicked back, his eyes cold. "You served me well. That's all."
And with that, he vanished into the crowd.
Elara's grip on my arm tightened. "What now, Lilly?"
I swallowed hard, steeling myself. "We'll find a way out. Together."
But for now, we were slaves.
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