Turmus, the Jewel of the Vosk River

  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 

Arealius, a renowned historian and cartographer of the Scribe Caste, and his partner, Lady Sorana, a skilled grammarian and editor, stood at the edge of the bustling city of Turmus, their eyes scanning the stone architecture that seemed to blend seamlessly with the emerging ironwork. The Vosk River, a lifeblood of commerce and trade, flowed gently beneath them, its waters reflecting the city's vibrant energy.

Arealius, with his sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes, wore his dark beard closely trimmed, revealing a face weathered from countless journeys by water or tarn, and late nights spent pouring over ancient texts. His worn leather satchel slung over his shoulder held the fruits of his labor: meticulously crafted historical accounts and maps of cities that had become dust. Sorana, with her dark brunette hair and soft brown eyes, stood beside him, her slender fingers clutching a worn leather portfolio containing their precious documents. Her gaze darted between Arealius and the city, her mind no doubt racing with the intricacies of Gorean language and the nuances of its written form.

Together, they had braved the dangers of the Vosk valley, their bond strengthened by months of travel and the shared weight of their mission. As members of the Scribe Caste of Port Olni, they had a deep respect for knowledge and a passion for recording the stories of Gor. Their journey had been arduous, taking them through lands decimated by the Dar Kosis wasting disease, but their determination remained unshaken.

As Arealius and Sorana entered the city of Turmus, they were immediately immersed in the vibrant atmosphere that seemed to reflect the city's proximity to Port Kar. The decadent influences of the distant port city were palpable, with numerous barely clothed kajirae dancing or enticing citizens and travelers alike into the many taverns near the city's gates. The air was thick with the sounds of laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses.

Arealius's eyes wandered, captivated by the beauties on display. He couldn't help but be drawn to the exotic allure of the kajirae, their movements fluid and seductive. Sorana, however, remained focused, her gaze scanning the crowds as she navigated through the throngs of people. She wore a subtle smile, amused by her partner's distraction, but her eyes remained sharp, searching for the distinctive blue attire of their fellow Scribe Caste members.

As they made their way deeper into the city, the architecture seemed to blend the sturdy late early stonework style with the emerging ironworking techniques, a testament to Turmus' position as a major hub on the Vosk River. The city's unique location, situated near the vast delta region that flowed into the Thassa, had clearly influenced its culture. The delta's many river branches and floating Rencer villages and proximity to Port Kar had brought a mix of peoples and traditions to Turmus, making it a melting pot of cultures.

Sorana expertly guided Arealius through the crowds, her knowledge of the city's layout and her keen sense of direction keeping them on track. "We need to find the Hall of Scribes," she reminded him, her voice firm but gentle.

Arealius tore his gaze away from the kajirae, his eyes locking onto Sorana's determined expression. "Of course, my dear," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and apology. Together, they continued their search for the Hall of Scribes, their footsteps carrying them through the winding streets of Turmus.

As they walked, they inquired about the location of the Hall, and a street vendor pointed them toward the market square, mentioning that Master Slaver Nicholas Eel, the renowned slaver, could likely provide them with the information they sought. Arealius's eyes lit up at the mention of the name; he had interviewed Nicholas Eel for his travel journal, “Wanderings of a Sailor of Gor,” and had developed a deep respect for the master's keen insights. With renewed purpose, Arealius and Sorana made their way toward Nicholas Eel's establishment, ready to seek his guidance and continue their quest.

Upon approaching Nicholas Eel's establishment, they were greeted by the man himself. His piercing gaze assessed them before nodding in acknowledgment. "Arealius, the historian, and Lady Sorana, his esteemed free companion, I presume?" he said, his voice smooth as silk.

Arealius smiled, impressed by Nicholas's recall. "The same. We've come seeking the Hall of Scribes, Master Eel. Might you know its location?"

Nicholas Eel chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You're looking for the keepers of knowledge, I see. Yes, I can direct you. But first, tell me, Arealius, how do you plan to convince the scribes of Turmus to accept your written accounts?"

Arealius leaned forward, his passion evident. "I've spent years documenting the history of Gor, Master Eel. My maps and accounts are meticulous, and I'm confident they will enrich the understanding of this city's place within the larger narrative of our world."

With Nicholas Eel's guidance and use of a kajira to lead them, Arealius and Sorana made their way to the Hall of Scribes, their hearts filled with anticipation and their minds sharpened for the challenges ahead.

As Arealius and Sorana climbed the hill, the imposing structure of the Hall of Scribes came into view, its classical white stone design gleaming in the moonlight. The building's commanding presence seemed to reflect the importance of knowledge and learning in the city of Turmus. From its lofty perch, the Hall overlooked the sprawling torch lit city below, a testament to the significance of the scribes who dwelled within its walls.

Upon entering the Hall, Arealius and Sorana were struck by the opulence that surrounded them. The gilded shelves, adorned with bound books encased in luxurious leather covers, seemed to shimmer in the light. The air was filled with a golden aura, as if the very essence of knowledge had been distilled into this sacred space. The two scribes stood in awe, their eyes wide with wonder, as they gazed upon the vast collection of tomes that lined the shelves.

The use of leather-bound books, rather than rolled scrolls, spoke to the wealth and sophistication of Turmus. Arealius, ever the historian, felt a sense of reverence wash over him as he beheld the treasures of the Hall. Sorana, meanwhile, her eyes shining with excitement, seemed to be drinking in the beauty of the library, her fingers itching to touch the pages of the ancient texts.

As they stood there, entranced by the golden glow of the library, Arealius and Sorana felt a sense of reverence for the scribes who had compiled this vast collection. They knew that their own works, Arealius's historical accounts and Sorana's grammatical treatises, would be worthy additions to this esteemed library. With renewed determination, they approached the central desk, where a dignified scribe looked up to greet them.

As the two scribes stood in the library, the sudden sound of a large snort made them jump. Turning, they were confronted by a massive black larl, its eyes gazing at them with a lazy, disinterested expression. Behind the larl stood two women, one wearing the blue robes of the Scribe Caste and the other clad in an emerald robe of concealment. The women identified themselves as free women of Turmus, their voices calm and measured.

Arealius, aware of the customs of Gor, nodded gravely and introduced himself and his companion, Lady Sorana, both members of the Scribe Caste of Port Olni. He knew that on Gor, names were not lightly shared, as some men believed that knowing another's name granted power over them. However, Arealius also understood that showing trust in these unknown women might be crucial in gaining an audience with the Master Scribe of the Hall.

With a hint of grandeur, he announced, "I am Arealius the Sailor, of the Port Olni caste of Scribes, and this is my free companion, Lady Sorana." The larl, seemingly unimpressed by the introduction, continued to lounge in the doorway, its eyes fixed on the two scribes.

The woman in the emerald robe of concealment regarded Arealius and Sorana with interest, her gaze lingering on their attire and demeanor. The woman in blue, likely a scribe herself, nodded thoughtfully, her eyes assessing the pair. "We will inform the Master Scribe of your presence," she said. "May we see your credentials?"

Arealius smiled, reaching into his satchel and producing a rolled-up scroll. He unrolled it, revealing his credentials as a scribe and historian. Alongside the scroll, he presented a sample of his written work, carefully selected to showcase his skills and knowledge. "I bring accounts of the history of Gor, and maps of cities that have become dust," he said, his eyes meeting the woman in blue. "I hope that my work will be of interest to the Master Scribe."

The woman in blue accepted the scroll and the sample of his work, her eyes scanning the pages with interest. She nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I will present these to the Master Scribe," she said. "Please, stay at the city inn. I will send a kajirae for you when the Head Scribe wishes to meet with you" With that, she turned and disappeared into the depths of the Hall, leaving Arealius and Sorana to await their fate. The larl, still lounging in the doorway, seemed to be watching them, its presence a reminder of the power dynamics at play in this ancient city.

{To be continued!}