One Night in Turmus, by Ar the Sailor
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
One Night in Turmus
I sat with Lady Scribe Sorana on the patio of the finest inn in Turmus, surrounded by the warm glow of lanterns and the murmur of conversation. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the nearby kitchen, mingling with the sound of clinking cups and laughter. We had just finished a leisurely evening meal, and the wine, bread, and cheese had put us in a playful mood.
As a Rencer's son, raised in the Vosk River Delta, I had grown accustomed to the water's rhythms. But now, as a scribe, I was drawn to the stories of the people. Sorana, with her mountain heritage from the Thentis Mountains, where the Olni River originates, shared a laugh with me, her eyes sparkling as we watched the surrounding patrons.
The patio was bustling with citizens of Turmus and travelers like ourselves, all enjoying the evening's warmth. We were squeezed in closely, elbow-to-elbow with other patrons, but Sorana's presence beside me made the space feel intimate. I leaned in, my voice low, and whispered something in her ear, making her giggle. She playfully pushed me away, her eyes shining with mirth.
As I sat there, I felt the effects of my recent serum regimen, and I was grateful for the energy and vitality it brought. Tonight, I was content to enjoy the evening with Sorana, soaking in the atmosphere of Turmus, and listening to the stories that seemed to seep from every stone in this ancient city.
I grinned at the lovely kajira as she poured more wine into our cups, her stunning white hair cascading down like a veil, teasing glimpses of her pale skin. I couldn't help but feel a spark of attraction, and my Rencer's boldness took over. "Ah, beauty incarnate," I said, my voice low and playful, "you bring joy to our humble table."
The kajira's cheeks flushed, but she smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Lady Sorana laughed, her eyes shining with mirth. "Arealius, you rogue," she said, "you'll charm the clothes off her if you're not careful."
I chuckled, leaning back in my chair. "Why not? She's already stolen my heart." The kajira giggled, her smile growing wider as she set the wine jug down.
Sorana playfully rolled her eyes. "You're impossible, Ar." But she was laughing, her voice musical, and the kajira seemed to relax in our presence, smiling at our banter.
As the kajira moved to serve another table, I watched her, my gaze lingering on her beauty. Sorana leaned in, her voice low. "You're a scoundrel, Arealius. But I adore you for it." I grinned, feeling carefree and alive, the wine and Sorana's company combining to create a sense of joyful abandon.
The innkeeper didn't flinch; her peg leg thumping the ground as she stood her ground. "Guests don't eat like kings and then claim poverty when it's time to pay. Four copper coins, or you can sleep with the tarsks."
I watched, amused, as the situation escalated. The innkeeper, a fierce Rencer with a peg leg, stood toe-to-toe with the massive Torvaldslander, her eyes blazing with a fire that could melt steel. The Torvaldslander towered over her, his face red with anger, but the innkeeper didn't back down. Beside him, his free companion, a stunning woman with a fierce glint in her eye, seemed just as determined to defend their honor.
"I'll pay you nothing!" the Torvaldslander bellowed, his voice like thunder. "In our land, visitors are given food and shelter as a sign of hospitality!"
The innkeeper snorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, you're not in your precious long hall now, are you? This is Turmus, and I don't run a charity. Four copper coins, and I'm being generous."
The Torvaldslander woman stepped forward, her eyes flashing. "You dare to insult our honor? We are guests in your city!"
The innkeeper didn't flinch; her peg leg thumping the ground as she stood her ground. "Guests don't eat like kings and then claim poverty when it's time to pay. Four copper coins, or you can sleep with the tarsks."
Sorana intervened, her voice calm and authoritative, and somehow talked the innkeeper down from a potentially explosive situation. As it turned out, the Torvaldslanders had genuinely misunderstood the riverfolk's customs, and once they understood their mistake, they apologized and paid 1 silver coin with a grudging respect for the innkeeper's tenacity.
After a short quiet conversation with the innkeeper Sorana returned to where I sat watching. As we climbed the stairs, Sorana's grip on my hand only tightened, her excitement and triumph infectious. I couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of joy and abandon wash over me. We reached the top of the stairs, and Sorana pulled me down the hallway, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
She pushed open the door to our room, and we slipped inside, the wooden door creaking shut behind us. The room was simple, but cozy, with a gigantic bed dominating the space. Sorana's eyes met mine, and for a moment, we just looked at each other, the tension between us palpable.
Then, with a laugh, Sorana pulled off her veil, revealing her radiant smile. "It seems we have the room for as long as we want," she said, her voice husky with amusement.
I grinned, feeling my heart pound in my chest. "It seems we do," I replied, my voice low and husky.
Sorana's eyes sparkled with mischief as she took a step closer to me. "I think we should celebrate," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded, my heart racing with anticipation. "I think that's an excellent idea," I replied, pulling her into my arms.
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