Dark Cloud on the Horizon: A War Story of Gor
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Dark Cloud on the Horizon: A War Story of Gor
By Arealius, Scribe of Port Olni
Dark Cloud on the Horizon: A Story of Early Gor
By Arealius, Scribe of Port Olni
Arealius's hands shuffled through the yellowed parchments, his eyes scanning the faded ink as memories flooded back. He sat in his dimly lit study, surrounded by shelves of worn scrolls and the faint scent of sandalwood. The villa's tranquil gardens, once a haven for contemplation, now seemed a distant echo of the bustling streets of Port Olni.
As he sifted through his notes, a particular passage caught his eye. It was from his apprenticeship days, his first foreign trip as aide to Lady Sela Montgomery, the Port Kar Ambassador at large. He recalled the weight of responsibility, the thrill of the unknown, and the intricacies of diplomatic protocol.
The entry was dated to the day Lady Sela's delegation arrived in Ar, amidst the somber atmosphere of Marlenus the Old's funeral pyre. Arealius's notes described the imposing figure of Marlenus the Younger, then newly crowned Ubar of Ar, standing before the High Castes. The young Ubar's words still resonated in Arealius' mind:
"We stand at the threshold of a new era. The south beckons, rich with the treasures of the Vosk and the secrets of the Salerian wastes. We will not be bound by the caution of our fathers. We will not be deterred by the whispers of doubt. Ar will rise, and the world will tremble."
Lady Sela's whispered commentary still echoed in Arealius's ears: "Ambition and hubris, a potent mix. This young Ubar would do well to temper his zeal with wisdom."
As Arealius closed his eyes, the memories swirled, transporting him back to that fateful day. He saw the determined glint in Marlenus' eye, the calculating gazes of the High Caste, and the subtle intrigue that wove through the gathering like a silken thread.
Lady Sela's voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes scanning the gathering as if searching for potential eavesdroppers. "The young Ubar is under immense pressure, Arealius. The Initiates whisper prophecies of greatness, the Warriors clamor for glory, and the Merchants promise riches beyond his wildest dreams."
She leaned in closer, her breath tickling Arealius's ear. "But I believe the greatest pressure comes from Turia. Its Merchant Caste, with their coffers overflowing and their influence spreading like a stain, is quietly goading Ar into this southern campaign."
Arealius's eyes widened slightly as he nodded, his mind racing with the implications. Turia, with its powerful merchant caste, had long been a thorn in the side of Ar, seeking to expand its influence and control over the region.
Lady Sela's voice took on a conspiratorial tone. "Mark my words, Arealius, Turia's merchants will reap the benefits of this war, while Ar bears the cost in blood and treasure. The young Ubar would do well to be cautious, lest he becomes a pawn in their game of power and profit."
As Lady Sela spoke, Arealius couldn't help but wonder about the motivations of the various players involved. Was Marlenus truly in control of his own destiny, or was he being manipulated by the surrounding forces?
One of Lady Sela's senior advisors, a seasoned diplomat with a keen eye for politics, discreetly approached her. His voice was low and measured, his words chosen with care.
"Lady Sela, if I may be so bold, perhaps it would be wise to be more... circumspect in your discussions with young Arealius. He is, after all, still an outsider among the scribes, despite his talents."
Lady Sela's gaze flicked to the advisor, her expression thoughtful. The advisor continued, his voice barely above a whisper.
"As a Rencer from the Vosk River Delta, with a... complicated family history, Arealius's loyalties may not be entirely clear. His mother's capture and collaring, his own uncertain status within the scribes' caste... these are factors to consider when sharing sensitive information."
The advisor's words hung in the air, a subtle reminder of the complexities surrounding Arealius' background and the potential risks of revealing too much.
The senior advisor, Theodorus Calvus, grasped Arealius's elbow firmly, steering him away from Lady Sela. "What do you think you're doing, standing so close to the Ambassador?" he hissed, his voice low and menacing.
Arealius tried to explain, but Theodorus cut him off. "You're nothing but a kajira's son, a nobody from the streets of Port Kar. You don't deserve to breathe the same air as Lady Sela, let alone stand beside her."
Theodorus' words dripped with venom, and Arealius felt a surge of humiliation. "You're lucky to be serving in this delegation, boy. Don't forget your place."
Theodorus' grip tightened, and he leaned in close. "If I see you standing that close to Lady Sela again, I'll have you sold in the slave markets of Ar. You'll be nothing more than a pleasure slave, serving the whims of some wealthy merchant."
Arealius felt a chill run down his spine as Theodorus' words hung in the air. He knew he had to be careful, that one misstep could mean disaster. Theodorus's grip finally relaxed, and Arealius was left standing alone, his dignity bruised and his sense of self-worth battered.
Arealius stepped back, his eyes drawn to the figure of Marlenus the Younger, the new Ubar of Ar. The young Ubar's voice rang out across the gathering, his words filled with passion and conviction. Arealius couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the man's confidence and ambition.
As he watched Marlenus, Arealius couldn't help but think about the vast difference between their circumstances. One, the Ubar of the greatest city on Gor, and the other, a slave's son who had learned to read and write. Yet, despite their differences, Arealius felt a sense of connection to the young Ubar.
A decision formed in Arealius's mind. He would ask permission from the Ambassador to serve as a cartographer for the Imperial forces on the Ubar's campaign in the south. It was a bold move, but Arealius felt it could be an opportunity to prove himself, to make a name for himself in the world.
He thought about the skills he had gained, his ability to read and write, his talent for painting and drawing. He could use these skills to create maps, to chart the terrain, to help the Ubar's forces navigate the unknown.
With a sense of determination, Arealius made his way back to Lady Sela, hoping to catch her attention and request her permission to join the campaign as a cartographer.
Theodorus stepped in front of Arealius, blocking his path to the Ambassador. Both men withdrew from the meeting, their movements watched by the warriors of Ar. Theodorus pulled Arealius behind him, his grip firm.
Outside the main hall, they were confronted by a captain of the Warrior caste. Theodorus' eyes flashed with anger as he turned to the captain. "Slay this young upstart on the spot," he demanded.
The captain laughed aloud, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Do the scribes need warriors to discipline their own?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Before Theodorus could respond, Arealius spoke up boldly. "I am a scribe of Port Kar, a skilled cartographer with survey and field journal keeping experience. I wish to join your Ubar's campaign to the southern regions, captain! My supervising scribe, Master-Scribe Theodorus, told me that is not possible and that I should be beaten."
The captain's expression changed, and he favored Arealius with a smile. "Is this true, Theodorus?" he asked.
Theodorus' face darkened, and he spat out the words. "Yes, it's true. And he's the son of a slave."
Arealius quickly countered, "My mother was a member in good standing with the Caste of Scribes. A river pirate in the Vosk River Delta took her captive, but she taught me all she knew while she raised me."
The captain's eyes narrowed, and he asked, "Where is the woman now?"
Arealius's voice was blunt. "She was sold, and her master released me to find my way."
The captain smiled, and his decision was clear. "I'll take him," he said, his eyes never leaving Theodorus' face.
Young Arealius followed Captain Heronus’ kajirus through the winding corridors of the palace, his sky blue eyes taking in the intricate mosaics and frescoes that adorned the walls. His black hair was neatly trimmed, and his sparse beard was a testament to his youth. He clutched his work satchel tightly, the few feather pens, bottle of ink, and blank parchments rolled together within it a reminder of his new purpose.
By his side walked Juicy, his kajira, her eyes cast demurely downward as she matched Arealius's stride for stride. Arealius had grown accustomed to her presence, and she had proven herself loyal and resourceful.
As they arrived at the captain's personal apartments, slaves in simple tunics welcomed them with bows. "Captain Heronus, the master is expecting you," one of them said, ushering them into the spacious rooms beyond.
Arealius's eyes widened as he took in the opulence of the captain's quarters. Rich tapestries hung on the walls, and the scent of fine wine wafted through the air. He felt a pang of nervousness, unsure if he was truly worthy of this fresh path he had chosen.
Captain Heronus, however, seemed at ease, gesturing for Arealius and Juicy to follow him. "Come, let us discuss the campaign and your role within it," he said, his voice firm and commanding.
Captain Heronus leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Ambassador Lady Sela did not seem all that impressed with you, young Arealius," he said, his voice measured. "In fact, she complained you had too wild a spirit for a scribe, no patience and a desire to see and do great things."
He paused, his eyes narrowing as he read from a parchment on his desk. "She writes that 'Arealius is a loyal son of his common father, a Rencer.'"
Arealius's eyes met the captain's, and he nodded. "My father, Barbosa, was a renowned warrior within his clan. He was known as a sleen slayer and a great fighter. A true Delta Man, adept at survival in the treacherous waters of the Vosk River Delta."
The captain's interest was piqued, and he leaned forward. "And your mother?" he asked.
Arealius's expression turned somber. "I only knew my mother as 'slave' or 'she-sleen,' for that is what my father called her. She was a scribe, permitted to keep a blue stylus by her master–my father. She taught me to read and write in Gorean, and to keep a journal, at my father's order."
Arealius's eyes seemed to cloud over, lost in thought. "My father couldn't read, but he kept the journal, nonetheless. Perhaps it was because of the pictures my mother and I made in it."
The captain's eyes sparkled with curiosity, and he leaned back in his chair. "Tell me more about your father, Barbosa. What was he like?"
Arealius's eyes clouded over as he thought about his mother, a kajira who had been a scribe in their village. Despite her enslaved status, she had been a source of comfort and guidance for Arealius, teaching him the ways of reading and writing in Gorean. However, their relationship was complicated because she was a possession of his father, Barbosa, a Rencer and warrior who led their village with a firm hand.
Barbosa's personality was a mix of brutality and loyalty, and his style of leadership was marked by a fierce protectiveness towards his people. Arealius had grown up witnessing his father's interactions with the villagers, and he had learned to navigate the complex web of relationships within their community.
Despite his exposure to his father's warrior culture, Arealius was physically smaller and slower in movement than a typical warrior of his age. He attributed this to his focus on scribal pursuits, which had taken up much of his time. However, he had developed a keen mind and a sharp eye for detail, skills that he hoped would serve him well in his new role as a cartographer.
As Arealius thought about his relationship with his mother, he realized she had played a significant role in shaping his values and aspirations. Despite being a kajira, she had instilled in him a love of learning and a desire to make a name for himself in the world. Arealius felt a deep sense of gratitude towards her, and he hoped to make her proud by succeeding in his new endeavors.
"Captain Heronus, I'd like to discuss my duties on the Ambassador's staff," Arealius said, taking the lead in the conversation. "As a scribe, I kept detailed records of our travels, observing and documenting the work of the city builders in Port Kar, and providing the ambassador with routine reports on the progress of the building efforts."
He paused, emphasizing his skills. "I also served as a diplomatic courier, which taught me how to move safely between cities and navigate complex social situations. I've had experience handling sensitive information and communicating effectively with various caste and city leaders."
Arealius smiled wryly. "I've found that my skills are well-suited to fieldwork. I've never been a source of complaints when in the field, working alongside the city builders and officials. It's only within the walls of Port Kar, among the Ambassador's staff, that my... enthusiasm and decision making in moments of need have sometimes been seen as liabilities."
The captain listened intently, his expression thoughtful. "I see," he said. "And how do you think your skills will translate to this new role, working with the Warrior Caste and mapping the southern territories?"
"I must admit, Captain Heronus, that my knowledge of the Southern Plains and the Tahari is limited to what I've read in scrolls," Arealius said honestly. "However, I have experience living as a Rencer in the sleen-infested tributaries and branches of the Vosk River. I've learned to navigate those waters and manage the dangers that come with them."
He emphasized his relevant skills. "I'm good with managing animals and kajirae, and I've showed that while working as a site scribe for builders from Port Kar in the delta. My paintings and drawings are far more skilled than my writing, and I believe that could be an asset for you and your company of warriors."
Arealius leaned forward, his eyes locked on the captain's. "And I assure you, sir, that Juicy and I would be far less of a burden on you and your company than any other scribe you could possibly find in Imperial Ar. We're accustomed to living off the land and adapting to new situations."
The captain's expression was thoughtful, weighing Arealius's words. "I see," he said. "Your skills might indeed prove useful. But tell me, Arealius, what makes you think you'd be a good fit for this company, beyond your artistic abilities?"
"I believe I'd be a good fit for this company, Captain Heronus, because I'm driven by a desire to prove myself and make a name for myself in the world," Arealius said, his voice filled with conviction. "As a Rencer's son, I've grown up with a strong sense of survival and adaptability. I'm not afraid of hard work or danger, and I'm willing to learn and take on new challenges."
He leaned forward, his eyes locked on the captain's. "I'm also drawn to the idea of mapping the southern territories and documenting the world around me. As a scribe and an artist, I see this as an opportunity to combine my skills and create something truly valuable." Arealius smiled, a hint of humor in his voice. "And, of course, I'm eager to escape the politics and intrigue of Port Kar. I'm a simple man, Captain, and I prefer the freedom of the open road to the complexities of court life."
The captain nodded thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. "I see," he said. "Well, Arealius, I think we'll get along just fine. Let's discuss the details of your role and what you can expect in this campaign."
The captain leaned forward, his eyes serious as he outlined Arealius's duties. "As the company scribe, your primary responsibilities will include record-keeping, documenting our military campaigns, battles, and victories. You'll also handle correspondence, writing and sending letters on behalf of myself and my officers to ranking officials within the Ubar’s personal staff."
He paused, ticking off each duty on his fingers. "Administrative tasks will also fall to you, including managing supplies, tracking finances, and maintaining records of spoils and distribution to the members of the company. Your role will be crucial in facilitating communication between different castes within the army."
The captain's expression turned thoughtful. "I expect you to write historical accounts of our conquests and exploits. Your narratives will serve as a record of our company's history and help to cement our legacy."
He glanced at Juicy, who stood quietly beside Arealius. "As for your kajira, she will assist you in your duties as needed. She may be tasked with managing your equipment, handling messages, or performing other tasks as required."
The captain's eyes returned to Arealius. "Do you understand your duties and responsibilities?"
“I do, sir.” Arealius beamed with satisfaction.
“Could because we march for Kasra in a hand. Go meet my first spear and tend to whatever tasks he has for you and your girl.”
Arealius beamed with excitement as the captain dismissed him. "This is it, Juicy! A new chapter in our lives! We'll see the world, document history, and make our mark."
Juicy's eyes, however, were filled with worry. Arealius wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Don't worry, my love," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "It'll be far more exciting than Port Kar. We'll face challenges, yes, but we'll face them together."
As he led her through the camp, Juicy's gaze lingered on the captain's retreating figure, her eyes wide with horror and disbelief. She seemed to think about the plush apartments and offices they'd left behind, the comforts of their life in Port Kar. Her face reflected the shock of their sudden change in fortune, and the uncertainty of their future.
Arealius, still enthusiastic, didn't seem to notice her unease as he pulled her along, searching for the captain's leading warrior. "Come on, Juicy! Let's find out what our first task is. This is going to be an adventure!"
As the sun rose over Imperial Ar, Arealius gazed out at the sprawling army of Ubar Marlenus the Younger, his mind boggling at the sheer scale of the endeavor. Thousands of warriors, each with their own field slaves, rations, animals, and bedding, stretched out across the landscape like a mighty serpent. The logistical effort required to move such a massive force was staggering, with supply wagons, herds of livestock, and columns of marching men that seemed to stretch on forever.
Arealius watched in awe as the warriors of Ar moved with precision and discipline, their bearing a testament to their training and martial prowess. Each company marched behind its captain, who relied on the banner carriers and senior swordsmen to set the pace and keep the warriors in line. The captains rode at the head of their companies, their eyes fixed on the banner carriers, who held aloft the emblems of their units.
The senior swordsmen, veterans of countless battles, marched alongside the warriors, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. The martial aspects of the legion's movement were evident in the way the warriors moved as one, their footsteps synchronized, their armor polished, and their eyes fixed on the horizon.
Arealius was struck by the sheer organization of the army, the way each company and unit fit together like a well-oiled machine. The size of the army was awe-inspiring, a testament to the power and might of Ubar Marlenus the Younger. As a scribe, Arealius had seen nothing like it, and he felt honored to be a part of this campaign.
The army's movement was a symphony of steel and leather, a choreographed dance of men and animals that seemed to unfold with precision and purpose. Arealius knew he was witnessing something truly remarkable, a display of martial prowess that would be remembered for generations to come.
The army of Marlenus the Younger set out from Imperial Ar, a sprawling column of warriors, Tharlarion cavalry, and Tarnsmen. The Tharlarion squadrons, with their viscous aggressiveness, secured the road and swept the surrounding countryside for signs of raiders or spies. The Tarnsmen, elite warriors of the Imperial caste, flew ahead, scouting for danger and securing key points along the Silk Road.
Arealius, a young scribe, walked alongside his kajira, Juicy, as they followed the army's train. The huge wagons, pulled by massive draft Tharlarion, rumbled along the road, carrying the army's supplies and serving as rolling command centers. Arealius spent his days chatting with fellow scribes and Tharlarion teamsters, learning about the creatures and the art of handling them.
At night, Arealius pitched his small tent near Captain Heronus' company, where he would record the day's events and relay them to the army scribe wagon the next morning. The sound of Tharlarion roars and the murmur of warriors' conversations filled the air as the army camped for the night.
The journey was long, but the army's progress was steady, with the Thalarion cavalry and Tarnsmen ensuring their safety. As they approached Torcadino, Arealius marveled at the city's walls and towers, knowing that the Tarnsmen had secured it before their arrival.
The city of Torcadino, a key stop on the Silk Road, was a testament to the empire's reach and power. Arealius felt a sense of pride and wonder as he gazed upon its walls, knowing that he was part of a larger endeavor.
Arealius sat by the campfire, surrounded by the warriors of Captain Heronus' company. The flames danced and crackled, casting a warm glow over the faces of the men. Sentries were posted, their silhouettes visible against the night sky as they stood watch over the camp.
Nearby, other warriors were reuniting with their kajirae, who had been working in the army's train during the day. The women were now being escorted to their tents for the night, their faces lit up by the firelight as they laughed and chatted with their masters.
Juicy, Arealius' own kajira, was busy preparing their camp meal. She expertly roasted meat and sul, the aroma wafting through the air and making Arealius' stomach growl with anticipation. Captain Heronus, sitting across from Arealius, nodded in approval as Juicy presented them with their food.
As they ate, the captain and Arealius discussed the welfare of the company's warriors. They spoke of their health, the condition of their equipment, and the morale of the men. Arealius took note of the captain's concerns, jotting down key points in his report.
Once they finished their meal, Captain Heronus nodded to Arealius. "Good work, scribe. Get that report to the army's train by morning."
Arealius nodded, tucking his quill and parchment into his satchel. He stood up, offering his hand to Juicy. "Time for bed, my dear."
Together, they walked to their small tent on the perimeter of the company's camp. The night air was cool and dark, the stars twinkling above. Arealius felt a sense of contentment wash over him as he ducked into the tent with Juicy.
The next day As Arealius walked alongside the army's column, he couldn't help but notice the slaves, like Juicy, darting about, fetching water, running errands, and attending to the needs of the warriors and other men. He watched as Juicy expertly navigated the company on the march, her movements from warrior to warrior swift and efficient.
Arealius felt a mix of emotions as he watched Juicy. He was grateful for her loyalty and dedication, but he also couldn't help but wonder about the life she led. What were her thoughts and feelings about being a slave? Did she resent her circumstances, or had she grown accustomed to her role?
As he pondered these questions, Arealius noticed the other slaves moving about the companies and squadrons. Some seemed resigned to their fate, while others appeared more spirited. He wondered about their stories, their hopes, and their dreams.
The sound of clanging pots and the smell of cooked food wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of leather and sweat. Arealius' thoughts were interrupted by the approach of Captain Heronus, who called out to him.
"Arealius, I need you to record the troop movements for the day. Note any changes in the terrain and the condition of the men."
Arealius nodded, tucking his thoughts away for later. He fell into step beside the captain, his eyes scanning the landscape as he sketched the contours of the road and surrounding countryside.
As the sun set on the army's camp, Arealius and Juicy settled in for the night. Arealius sat on a blanket, scribbling notes in his journal by the light of a nearby torch. Juicy sat beside him, her eyes fixed on the flames of the campfire.
The sound of laughter and conversation filled the air, mingling with the smell of roasting meat and the distant clang of swords being sharpened. Arealius felt a sense of contentment wash over him as he glanced at Juicy.
"You're quiet tonight," he said, putting down his journal. "Is everything all right?"
Juicy nodded, her eyes still fixed on the flames. "Yes, Master. I'm tired."
Arealius nodded sympathetically. "You've had a long day. Why don't you get some rest?"
Juicy nodded, standing up and stretching. Arealius watched as she walked over to their small tent, her movements graceful in the fading light.
As he watched her, Arealius couldn't help but feel a sense of growing affection for Juicy. She was more than just a slave; she was a companion, becoming a friend.
The next day as the legion approached the walled city-state of Torcadino, the air was filled with the sound of beating wings and the distant gleam of tarn armor. The cavalry squadrons of tarns soared above, their riders scanning the horizon for any sign of danger. The tharlarion, massive and imposing, marched steadily on the road, clearing the way for Ubar Marlenus the Younger and his foot warriors.
The Ubar's presence was a testament to the importance of honor in Gorean diplomacy. As he approached the city gates, he was met by the commander of the Torcadino garrison, who stood at attention with his warriors. The commander greeted the Ubar with a formal bow, his face grave with respect.
"Greetings, Ubar Marlenus the Younger," the commander said. "We welcome you and your legion to our city. We come in peace, bearing the symbols of our authority and our desire for trade and cooperation."
The Ubar nodded graciously, his eyes sweeping the city walls and the warriors who stood at attention. "Thank you, Commander. We mean no harm to the people of Torcadino. We seek only to establish a mutually beneficial relationship between our cities."
As the formalities were exchanged, Arealius stood at the edge of the scene, Juicy by his side. He dipped his quill in ink, his eyes darting back and forth as he recorded the event on his canvas. Other companies’ scribes worked alongside him, their brushes moving swiftly as they captured the scene in vivid colors.
The Ubar's words were not just a gesture of goodwill; they were also a demonstration of his city's honor and reputation. In Gorean society, honor was a vital component of diplomacy, and the Ubar's actions would be scrutinized by the people of Torcadino.
As the sun set over Torcadino, the city's streets came alive with the sound of laughter and music. The officers of the legion were entertained by the city administrator in his luxurious house, where fine wine and exotic delicacies flowed freely.
Meanwhile, outside the city walls, the warriors and other supporting castes were treated to a different revelry. The merchants of Torcadino had set up tables groaning with food and drink, and the most beautiful kajirae served the warriors with smiles and charm.
Arealius and Juicy joined in the merriment, laughing and joking with the other scribes and their kajirae. The atmosphere was lively, with music and dancing filling the air. Arealius couldn't help but notice the way Juicy's eyes sparkled in the firelight as she danced with the other kajirae.
As the night wore on, the revelry only grew more intense. Arealius found himself lost in the moment, surrounded by new friends and the warm glow of camaraderie. Juicy's hand slipped into his, and he smiled, feeling a sense of connection to her that went beyond master and slave.
The dynamics between masters and slaves in Gorean society are complex, with deep power imbalances and societal expectations.
As Captain Heronus' personal kajirus arrived at Arealius' tent at daybreak, the scribe was summoned to the captain's tent. Upon arrival, Arealius found two other senior warriors and the one-eyed senior scribe of the legion already present. The warriors greeted Arealius warmly, and their friendly demeanor extended to Juicy, who moved closer to Arealius as greetings were shared.
The one-eyed scribe cleared his throat, signaling the start of the meeting. "Let's sit ourselves on cushions within the tent to discuss plans," he said. As they sat down, the old scribe ordered Juicy out of the tent rather unceremoniously, instructing her to attend to her morning chores. "I'll ensure your young master makes it back to his tent safely," he said with a hint of amusement, drawing chuckles from the warriors.
With Juicy gone, the discussion turned to the plans for the day. The senior scribe briefed them on the terrain ahead, emphasizing the need for vigilance and preparedness. Arealius took notes, his focus on capturing the information accurately.
The dynamics between warriors and scribes in Gorean society are complex, with warriors often viewing themselves as protectors and defenders, while scribes provide essential support. In this meeting, the warriors and scribes worked together seamlessly, their different roles and expertise complementing each other. As the meeting progressed, Arealius felt a sense of camaraderie with the warriors, despite their differences.
Lance Commander Comminus, a seasoned warrior with a powerful presence, greeted Arealius firmly. "Good morning, Scribe. I trust you're prepared for a thrilling ride. We'll be flying southwest along the Ta-Thasa Mountains, mapping out water sources and forested areas." Comminus smiled, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Excellent. We'll be using a draft tarn purchased in Torcadino. With Juicy as our passenger, we'll have ample supplies for our journey."
As Comminus outlined the mission details, Arealius noted the terrain they would be covering. The Ta-Thasa Mountains stretched out before them, a vast expanse of rugged peaks and valleys. Their route would take them toward Turia on the Thassa coast, a city known for its treacherous waters and bustling ports.
Meanwhile, the legion would move south toward Kasra, where they would establish their primary support garrison for the expedition. Arealius felt a sense of detachment from the main force, but he knew their reconnaissance mission was crucial to the success of the expedition.
With the mission details completed, Arealius gathered his belongings and followed Comminus to the tarn, Juicy by his side. The draft tarn, strong, was saddled and ready for departure. Arealius couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement as he mounted the tarn, Juicy secure behind him.
- Torian Squares: A defensive formation used by infantry, providing superior mobility and regrouping capacities. This formation made phalanxes obsolete.
- Defensive Picket Formation: An equal number of men are forward and back within the interstices, sealing the line and allowing mobility.
- Shield Roof or Shield Shed: A defensive measure protecting ground forces from aerial attacks, similar to the testudo formation.
- Oblique Advance: Developed by Dietrich of Tarnburg, this formation allows armies to attack limited portions of the enemy, engaging a larger army.
- Harrow: A formation with spikes of archers protected by stakes and pits, projecting beyond infantry lines to counter cavalry.
- Tharlarion Wedge or Line: An obsolete tactic utilizing tharlarion (large, two-legged creatures) as a wall.
- Cavalry Charges: Tharlarion cavalrymen ride war tharlarions, using their massive impact to break enemy lines.
- Aerial Warfare: Tarnsmen (Gorean aerial warriors) employ tarns (giant eagles) for reconnaissance, targeted attacks, and aerial harassment.
- Siege Warfare: Gorean siege warfare often involves catapults, ballistae, and other artillery to breach city walls.
- Legions : Gorean Imperial Ar's legions consist of 3,000 to 5,000 infantrymen, 300 to 500 cavalrymen, and around 50 tarnsmen. Modern counterpart is a regiment or squadron (General Officer, 2-3 star.)
- Cohorts: Units of 1,000 men, led by a centurion or legide. Modern counterpart is a brigade (General Officer, 1 star.)
- Manipules: Units of around 300 men, under the same cohort. Modern counterpart is a battalion (Colonel).
- Centuries: Units of around 80 to 100 men, led by a princeps. Modern counterpart is a company (Captain).
🧭 Project Summary: Gor and Rome on the Edge of Empire
🔱 Narrative Goal
To craft a fan fiction campaign set in the Gorean Saga, centered on a military expedition launched by a young and ambitious Ubar of Ar—Marlenus the Younger—into the southern plains inhabited by the nomadic Wagon Peoples. The campaign is modeled on Imperial Rome’s operations along the Danube frontier, particularly during the reign of Marcus Aurelius, and explores themes of legacy, conquest, and metaphysical awakening.
🏛️ Ar and Rome: Civilizational Mirrors
| Gorean Lore – City of Ar | Imperial Rome – Marcus Aurelius Era |
|---|---|
| Ar is the cultural and military heart of Gor, ruled by a Ubar and a High Council | Rome is the epicenter of civilization, ruled by an emperor and a Senate |
| Marlenus the Younger inherits power after his father’s death, seeking prestige and expansion | Marcus Aurelius leads campaigns to secure Rome’s borders while wrestling with philosophical doubt |
| Ar’s legions are disciplined, honor-bound, and expansionist | Roman legions are professional, hierarchical, and tasked with frontier defense and conquest |
| Ar’s campaign is driven by internal politics, economic ambition, and spiritual omens | Rome’s Danube campaigns were responses to tribal incursions, imperial prestige, and philosophical reflection |
🐎 Nomadic Tribes: Wagon Peoples and Sarmatian Parallels
| Gorean Wagon Peoples | Eastern European Tribes (Roman Frontier) |
|---|---|
| Tuchuk – central tribe, pragmatic, cavalry-based | Sarmatians – nomadic horse warriors, tribal confederations |
| Kataii – mobile archers, spiritual depth | Quadi – semi-nomadic, mystic warrior culture |
| Kassar – conservative, honor-bound | Marcomanni – structured tribal society, fiercely independent |
| Paravaci – mystics and lore-keepers | Sarmatian priesthood and tribal seers |
The Wagon Peoples mirror the mobility, tribal structure, and spiritual resilience of the Sarmatians and their neighbors. Their decentralized power and mastery of cavalry tactics pose a direct challenge to Ar’s imperial rigidity—just as the Sarmatians frustrated Roman formations along the Danube.
📜 Story Development So Far
- Opening Scene: Framed by Arealius, a scribe from Port Olni, reflecting on the rise of Marlenus the Younger after his father’s funeral pyre.
- First Council Meeting: Marlenus declares his intent to expand southward, driven by legacy, wealth, and prophecy. The Spiral medallion—his father’s—becomes a symbol of destiny.
- Ambassador’s Arrival: A female envoy from the river cities meets Marlenus, warning of tribal unrest. Arealius reflects on the contrast between Ar’s grandeur and his youth in the salt-stained libraries of Port Kar.
🔮 Symbolic Themes
- The Spiral glyph represents recursion, destiny, and metaphysical turning points.
- The campaign is not just military—it’s a spiritual crucible for Ar and the tribes.
- The scribe’s perspective adds historical weight and philosophical depth, echoing Meditations and the role of memory in shaping myth.
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