TRIVIA TIME #1 ???????????????????

[adreannaTal{fb}]

#1what kur did Tarl share paga with? and what was his nick name? ( share the quote)

Jondalar came to adreanna with the correct answer and quote...tho there are 2 quotes that state the answer he gave one...

Zarendargar ...Half-Ear


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
QUOTES:
In the north of Gor, in its polar regions, inhabited sparsely by tribes of humans known as the Red Hunters, recognizable by the small blue spot at the base of their spine, it is said that he, this Tarl Cabot, once encountered a great war general of the Kurii, Zarendargar, whose name, for convenience, we have transliterated into phonemes hopefully accessible to at least some readers of this tale, certainly in this translation. Colloquially, doubtless with a certain crudity, he, Zarendargar, was spoken of as "Half-Ear." And, of course, few of the Kurii who ascend high in the rings will be without certain blemishes. A certain area of the polar region was at that time being used as staging area, under the command of the aforementioned Zarendargar, a staging area with munitions and such, for an attack on the Sardar enclave, destined to suddenly, decisively, and irremediably terminate the rule of Priest-Kings, destroying them in their own most-favored haunts or lairs. It had taken better than a century for this materiel, bit by bit, to be secretly assembled. One can well understand then its preciousness and importance to the Steel Worlds, its relevance to their projects, and such. The staging area, however, was destroyed, and somehow, in some way, Tarl Cabot seems to have been involved in its destruction. It was supposed at the time that Zarendargar was destroyed in the explosion, or conflagration, or such. But this turned out to be mistaken. When it became clear that Zarendargar had survived the destruction of the staging area, a death squad was dispatched from the Steel Worlds to hunt him down and kill him, for he had, after all, failed the people. The policies and decisions connected with the transmission of the death squad were controversial, incidentally, in the councils of the Steel Worlds, and the decree of termination, some months later, would be rescinded. This, of course, could not have been anticipated by the personnel of the Death Squad. Representatives of the Death Squad contacted Samos of Port Kar, clearly an agent of Priest-Kings, and Tarl Cabot, for assistance in hunting down and executing Zarendargar. It was assumed naturally that this assistance would be readily tendered for Zarendargar was well understood to be significant amongst the Kurii and a relentless, dedicated, and dangerous foe of Priest-Kings. The putative location of the at-that-time-fugitive Zarendargar was the vast prairies of the Gorean Barrens. Tarl Cabot, however, instead of lending his assistance to the Death Squad, himself entered the dangerous Barrens to warn Zarendargar and, if possible, protect him. This effort, of course, was not only contrary to the desires of the Death Squad, but, too, seemed clearly to be an act not in the best interests of Priest-Kings. On whose side, so to speak, was this mysterious, unpredictable, ungoverned Tarl Cabot? Was he an agent of Priest-Kings? Was he an agent of Kurii? If he was an agent, it seems he was his own agent, or an agent of honor, for, long ago, it seems, he and Zarendargar had shared paga.
Kur of Gor Chapter 1(book 28)


For his courage Tarl is done the singular honour of an audience with Half-Ear, and the pair of them recognise a certain kindred spirit uniting them despite their being of unlike races. Zarendargar tells Tarl some interesting facts concerning the nature of his species, especially its breeding cycle, and they share paga together. In fact Half-Ear has been saving the paga specially for Tarl, confident that he would turn up to claim it.
Beast of Gor Chapter 31 (book12)

[adreannaTal{fb}]

#2 Where on Gor can a picture of a horse be found ? who found it?

SUBMIT QUOTE

alright Jondalar's on a role....( like adreanna didn't know he'dlove this section..lol)

Torvaldsberg wall the old runes......is where the picture of a horse can be found
Tarl Cabot found it (HE IS THE I)

QUOTE:
Following the Forkbeard, on hands and knees, I crawled down the narrow passage, at one point turning on my left side to slide through a narrow aperture. Within this aperture, I extended my hands and then, carefully, hands held up, feeling, I stood up. To one side I heard the Forkbeard fumbling about in the darkness. I heard the strike of two small pieces of iron pyrite on one another, taken from the Forkbeard's belt wallet, and saw a scattering of sparks. Then it was dark again. "There is cut moss against the edge," said the Forkbeard. There was another scattering of sparks. This time the sparks fell into a heap, one of several, each about five inches high and four inches wide, of minuscule, lacelike moss twigs. This tinder flared immediately into flame. In that instant I saw we were in a large, squared passage. I saw a torch in a ring, one of others. There was carving in the passage, rune letterings and pictographs, in linear borders. Before the bit of flaring moss turned into a million red pinpoints the Forkbeard took one of the torches and thrust it to the moss. I saw that, near some of the patches of moss, were pieces of flint and steel, near others tiny piles of iron pyrites. I shivered.
The Forkbeard lifted the torch. I, too, took a torch.
Neither of us spoke.
The passage extended beyond us, disappearing in the darkness beyond the light of our torches. It was about eight feet in height and width. It was carved from the living rock. Along its edges, spaced some twelve feet from one another, on both sides, were torch rings, with unlit torches, which might be lit. The piles of tinder and flint and steel, or iron pyrites, lay now behind us, or to one side. I lifted the torch to the borders, running linearly down the chamber, disappearing into the darkness before us. The lettering was in the high, angular script of the north; the pictographs seemed primitive.
"These are old runes," said Ivar.
"Can you read them?" I asked.
"No," said Ivar.
My hair rose on the back of my neck. I looked at one of the pictographs. It was a man astride a quadruped.
"Look," said I to the Forkbeard.
"Interesting," said the Forkbeard. "It is a representation of a man riding a mythological beast, doubtless an illustration based upon some saga with which I am unfamiliar."
He continued on.
I lingered by the pictograph. I had seen nothing like it on Gor.
"Follow me," said the Forkbeard.
I left the pictograph to follow him. I wondered on the man who had carved it. It was indeed old, perhaps ancient. It was drawn by one who had been familiar with a world unknown to Ivar Forkbeard. There was no mistaking the quadruped on which the rider was mounted. It was a horse. The passage now enlarged. We felt lost in it. It was still squarish, some twenty feet in height and width. It was now much more decorated and carved than it had been, and, in the light of the torches, we could see that much color had been used in the decoration. Pictographs were much more numerous now, and, instead of being linearly bordered the walls were now decorated in columns of runes and designs, and pictographs. Torches, unlit, in wall rings, were still illuminated as we passed near them. Many of the columns carved, with painted surfaces, on the walls, reminded me of rune stones. These stones, incidentally, are normally quite colorful, and can often be seen at great distances. Each year their paint is freshened, commonly on the vigil of the vernal equinox, which, in the north, as commonly in the south marks the new year. Religious rune stones are repainted by rune-priests on the vigil of the fest-season of Odin, which, on Gor, takes place in the fall. If the stones were not tended, either by farmers on whose lands they lie, or by villagers in whose locales they lie, or by rune-priests, in a few years, the paint would be gone, leaving only the plain stone. The most famous rune stone in the north is that on Einar's Skerry, which marks the northland's southern border.
"Can you not read these runes?" I asked Ivar, again.
"I am not a rune-priest," he said.
Ivar's reply was not a little belligerent. I knew him able to read some rune markings. I gathered that these, perhaps, because of antiquity or dialect, were beyond him. Ivar's attitude toward reading was not unlike that of many of the north. He had been taught some rune signs as a boy, that he could understand important stones, for in these stones were the names of mighty men and songs of their deeds, but it had not been expected of him that he would be in any sense a fluent reader. Ivar, like many of those in the north, was a passable reader, but took care to conceal this fact. He belonged to the class of men who could hire their reading done for them, much as he could buy thralls to do his farming. It was not regarded as dignified for a warrior to be too expert with letters, such being a task beneath warriors. To have a scribe's skills would tend to embarrass a man of arms, and tend to lower his prestige among his peers. Many of the north, then, were rather proud of their illiteracy, or semi-illiteracy. It was expected of them. It honored them. His tools were not the pen and parchment, but the sword, the bow, the ax and spear. Besides simple runes, the boy in the north is also taught tallying, counting, addition and subtraction, for such may be of use in trading or on the farm. He is also taught weighing. Much of his education, of course, consists in being taken into a house, and taught arms, hunting and the sea. He profits, too, from the sagas, which the skalds sing, journeying from hall to hall. In the fest-season of Odin a fine skald is difficult to bring to one's hall. One must bid high. Sometimes they are kidnapped, and, after the season's singing, given much gold and freed. I had not, of course, intended to insult the Forkbeard.
"There is one sign here, of course," said the Forkbeard, "which any fool might read."
He pointed to the sign.
I had seen it frequently in the writings. Naturally, I could not read it.
"What does it say?" I asked.
"Do you truly not know?" he asked.
"No," I said, "I do not know."
He turned away, and, again, I followed him.
We lit new torches from the wall rings and discarded our old ones. We then continued on our journey.
Now, to one side and the other, we passed open chests, in which we could see treasures, the spillings and tangles of coins and jewelries, rings, bracelets.
We came then to a great arch, which marked the entrance to a vast room, lost in darkness beyond the flickering spheres of our uplifted torches.
We stopped.
Over the arch, deeply incised in the stone was the single, mighty sign, that which the Forkbeard had not explained to me.
We stood in silence, in that dark, lofty threshold.
The Forkbeard was trembling. I had never seen him so. The hair on the back of my neck lifted, short, stiff. I felt cold. I knew, of course, the legends.
He lifted his torch, to the sign over the door. "Do you now know that sign?" he asked.
"I know what sign it must be," I said.
"What sign?" asked he.
"The sign, the name-sign, of Torvald."
"Yes," said he.
I shuddered.
"Torvald," I said to the Forkbeard, "is only a figure of legend. Each country has its legendary heroes, its founders, its discoveries, its mythic giants."
"This," said the Forkbeard, looking up at the sign, "is the chamber of Torvald." He looked at me. "We have found it," he said.
"There is no Torvald," I said. "Torvald does not exist."
"This," said the Forkbeard, "is his chamber." His voice shook. "Torvald," said he, "sleeps in the Torvaldsberg, and has done so for a thousand years. He waits to be wakened. When his land needs him, he shall awake. He shall then lead us in battle. Again he will lead the men of the north."
"There is no Torvald," I said.
The Forkbeard looked within. "For a thousand years," he whispered, "has he slept."
"Torvald does not exist," I said.
"We must awaken him," said the Forkbeard.
Ivar Forkbeard, lifting his torch, entered the great chamber.
I felt grief. It seemed to me not impossible that, at the root of the legends, the sagas, of Torvald, there might be some particles of truth. I did not think it impossible that there had once been a Torvald, one who had come to this land, with followers perhaps, more than a thousand years ago. He might have been a great leader, a mighty warrior, the first of the jarls of the north, but that had been, if it had ever been, more than a thousand years ago. There was now no Torvald. I felt grief at what misery, what disappointment, what disillusionment must now fall to my friend, the Forkbeard.
In his hope to fine one strong enough to stand against Kurii, one who could rally the men of the north, he was bound to be disillusioned.
The myth, that dream of succor, of final recourse, would be shown barren, fraudulent.
This chamber, I knew, had been built by men, and the passages carved from the very stone of the mountain itself. That must be accounted for. But it was not difficult to do so. Perhaps there had once been a Torvald, hundred of years ago. If so, it was not impossible that it had been his wish to be interred in the great mountain. We stood, perhaps, within, or at the brink, of the tomb of Torvald, lost for long ages until now, until we two, fleeing from Kurii, from beasts, had stumbled upon it. Perhaps it was true that Torvald had been buried in the Torvaldsberg, and that the tomb, the funeral chamber, had been concealed, to protect it from the curious or from robbers. And, in such a case, legends might well have arisen, legends in which the mystery of the lost tomb might figure. These would have spread from village to village, from remote farm to remote farm, from hall to hall. One such legend, quite naturally, might have been that Torvald, the great Torvald, was not truly dead, but only asleep, and would waken when once again his land had need of him.
"Wait!" I called to the Forkbeard.
But he had entered the chamber, torch high, moving quickly. I followed him, swiftly, tears in my eyes.
When he looked down, torch lifted, upon the bones and fragile cloths of what had once been a hero, when the myth had been shattered, the crystal of its dream beneath the iron of reality, I wanted to stand near him. I would not speak to him. But I would stand behind him, and near him.
The Forkbeard stood at the side of the great stone couch, which was covered with black fur.
At the foot of the couch were weapons; at its head, hanging on the wall, under a great shield, were two spears, crossed under it, and, to one side, a mighty sword in its scabbard. Near the head of the couch, on our left, as we looked upon the couch, was, on a stone platform, a large helmet, horned.
The Forkbeard looked at me.
The couch was empty.
He did not speak. He sat down on the edge of the couch, on the black fur, and put his head in his hands. His torch lay on the floor, and, after some time, burned itself out. The Forkbeard did not move. The men of Torvaldsland, unlike most Gorean men, do not permit themselves tears. It is not cultural for them to weep. But I heard him sob once. I did not, of course, let him know that I had heard this sound. I would not shame him.
"We have lost," he said, finally, "Red Hair. We have lost."
I had lit another torch, and was examining the chamber. The body of Torvald, I conjectured, had not been buried in this place. It did not seem likely that robbers would have taken the body, and left the various treasures about. Nothing, it seemed, had been disturbed.
Torvald, I conjectured, doubtless as cunning and wise as the legends had made him out, had not elected to have himself interred in his own tomb.
It was empty.
The wiliness, the cunning, of a man who had lived more than a thousand years ago made itself felt in its effects a millennium later, in this strange place, deep within the living stone of a great mountain in a bleak country.
"Where is Torvald?" cried out the Forkbeard.
I shrugged.
"There is no Torvald," said the Forkbeard. "Torvald does not exist."
I made no attempt to answer the Forkbeard.
"The bones of Torvald," said the Forkbeard, "even the bones of Torvald are not here."
"Torvald was a great captain," I said. "Perhaps he was burned in his ship, which you have told me was called Black Shark." I looked about. "It is strange though," I said, "if that were the case, why this tomb should have been built."
"This is not a tomb," said Ivar Forkbeard.
I regarded him.
"This is a sleeping chamber," he said. "There are no bones of animals here, or of thralls, or urns, or the remains of foodstuffs, offerings." He looked about. "Why," he asked me, "would Torvald have had carved in the Torvaldsberg a sleeping chamber?"
"That men might come to the Torvaldsberg to waken him," I said.
Ivar Forkbeard looked at me.
From among the weapons at the foot of the couch, from one of the cylindrical quivers, still of the sort carried in Torvaldsland, I drew forth a long, dark arrow. It was more than a yard long. Its shaft was almost an inch thick. It was plied with iron, barbed. Its feathers were five inches long, set in the shaft on three sides, feathers of the black-tipped coasting gull, a broad-winged bird, with black tips on its wings and tail feathers, similar to the Vosk gull.
I lifted the arrow. "What is this?" I asked the Forkbeard.
"It is a war arrow," he said.
"And what sign is this, carved on its side?" I asked.
"The sign of Torvald," he whispered.
"Why do you think this arrow is in this place?" I asked.
"That men might find it?" he asked.
"I think so," I said.
He reached out and put his hand on the arrow. He took it from me.
"Send the war arrow," I said.
The Forkbeard looked down on the arrow.
"I think," I said, "I begin to understand the meaning of a man who lived more than a thousand winters ago. This man, call him Torvald, built within a mountain a chamber for sleep, in which he would not sleep, but to which men would come to waken him. Here they would find not Torvald, but themselves, themselves, Ivar, alone, and an arrow of war."
"I do not understand," said Ivar.
"I think," I said, "that Torvald was a great and a wise man."
Ivar looked at me.
"In building this chamber," I said, "it was not the intention of Torvald that it should be he who was awakened within it, but rather those who came to seek him."
"The chamber is empty," said Ivar.
"No," I said, "we are within it." I put my hand to his shoulder. "It is not Torvald who must awaken in this chamber. Rather it is we. Here, hoping for others to do our work, we find only ourselves, and an arrow of war. Is this not Torvald's way of telling us, from a thousand years ago, that it is we on whom we must depend, and not on any other. If the land is to be saved, it is by us, and others like us, that it must be saved. There are no spells, no gods, no heroes to save us. In this chamber, it is not Torvald who must awaken. It is you and I," I regarded the Forkbeard evenly. "Lift," said I, "the arrow of war."
I stood back from the couch, my torch raised. Slowly, his visage terrible, the Forkbeard lifted his arm, the arrow in his fist.
I am not even of Torvaldsland, but it was I who was present when the arrow of war was lifted, at the side of the couch of Torvald, deep within the living stone of the Torvaldsberg.
Then the Forkbeard thrust the arrow in his belt. He crouched down, at the foot of the couch of Torvald. He sorted through the weapons there. He selected two spears, handing me one. "We have two Kurii to kill," he said.
~Marauders of Gor, chapter 16, pages 229-236

[adreannaTal{fb}]

#3 name three knots known on Gor with accompaning quotes


once again Jondalar found the answers....when we were discussing them we found several more knots ...how wonderful we learned new things


#1 BONDAGE KNOT
On Gor, the female slave, desiring her master, yet sometimes fearing to speak to him, frightened that she may be struck, has recourse upon occasion to certain devices, the meaning of which is generally established and culturally well understood. I shall mention two such devices. There is, first, the bondage knot. Most Gorean slave girls have long hair. The bondage knot is a simple looped knot tied in the girl's hair and worn at the side of her right cheek or before her right shoulder. The girl approaches the master naked and kneels, the bondage knot soft, curled, fallen at the side of her right cheek or before her right shoulder. Another device, common in Port Kar, is for the girl to kneel before the master and put her head down and lift her arms, offering him fruit, usually a larma, or a yellow Gorean peach, ripe and fresh.
Tribesmen of Gor - Page 27

bondage knot (noun): a loose knot, worn by a slavegirl in her hair on the right side of her face as she kneels, naked, at his feet; it is a silent plea to her master that she be used sexually.
---Tribesmen of Gor, 1:27

}Jondalar{ She looked at me. I took a long set of strands of her dark hair, some inch and a half in thickness. I loosely knotted them at the right side of her cheek.
"The bondage knot," she whispered.
"This will mark you as having been taken," I said. "Taken?" she asked. I stood up. She struggled. I strode from her, going toward the door.
"Tarl!" she cried.
I turned to face her.
"I love you!" she cried.
"You are a consummate actress," I told her.
[11:36] Jondalar: *** Tribesmen of Gor ***
----- by John Norman -----
BOOK 10
24
I BIND A GIRL,
RESERVING HER FOR MYSELF,
I THEN ADDRESS MYSELF
TO THE DUTIES OF STEEL

bondage knot
a loose knot tied in a slave's long hair near her right cheek or before her right shoulder that has two meanings, depending on how it is used. If a slave girl approaches a Master and kneels naked before him, looping the knot herself, she silently begs for use. If a Master ties the knot himself, notably during a time of battle, it is his way of marking the girl as taken if he must continue on, leaving her bound behind.
Book 10: Tribesmen of Gor, page 27 and 321
Book 22: Dancer of Gor, pages 299-300


#2 BAKERS KNOT

"The baker had tied the sack about her neck, with a bakers knot, fastened behind the back of her neck. The girl is not supposed to be able to see to undo the knot. Even it she works it about before her throat, she cannot see it. If she should untie it, it is unlikely she will be able to retie it properly. Naturally the sack may not be opened unless the knot has been undone. The bakers knot is supposed to minimize the amount of pilfering of pastries, and such, which might otherwise be done by slave girls."
Hunters of Gor pg. 65

Bakers knot (noun): a specialized knot type used to tie a shopping sack around the throat of a slave. Intended to minimize pilfering of pastries and such because the girl cannot see it and also because it is difficult to untie and unlikely to be retied correctly to hide the pilferage.
---Hunters of Gor, 5:65

A specialized knot type developed by the caste of Bakers designed for use in tying sacks around the neck of a slave. The slave in essence is unable to see the knot, even if she by chance works it forward to more easily undo. By not seeing the knot, she cannot know how to retie it properly. Such a knot is supposed to minimize pilfering of pastries which might be tempting to a slave girl.

"She had been ashore to buy some loaves of Sa-Tarna bread. The girl commonly carries the coin, or coins, in her mouth, for slave tunics, like most Gorean garments, have no pockets. Slaves are not permitted wallets, or pouches, as free persons. The baker had tied the sack about her neck, with a baker's knot, fastened behind the back of her neck. The girl is not supposed to be able to see to undo the knot. Even if she works it about to before her throat, she cannot see it. If she should untie it, it is unlikely she will be able to retie it properly. Naturally the sack may not be opened unless the knot has been undone. The baker's knot is supposed to minimize the amount of pilfering of pastries, and such, which might otherwise be done by slave girls." — Hunters of Gor, page 65.



#3 BASKET HITCH

"This is the basket hitch," I told her, gesturing for her to put out one hand. "It is used for fastening a carrying basket to hooks on certain tarn saddles."
I then illustrated, she cooperating, several other common knots, among them the Karian anchor knot, the Pin hitch, the double Pin hitch, the Builder's bend and the Builder's overhand.
Assassin of Gor Book 5 Pages 81 - 82

basket hitch (noun): a style of knot which is used in securing carrying baskets to hooks on some tarn saddles.
---Assassin of Gor, 5:81

"Would you like me to show you some others?" I asked.
"Signature knots?" she asked.
"No," I said, "simple knots, common Gorean knots."
"Yes," she said, delighted.
"Bring me a pair of sandal thongs," I told her. She did so and then knelt down opposite me, while I sat cross-legged, and took one of the thongs in my hands.
"This is the basket hitch," I told her, gesturing for her to put out one hand. "It is used for fastening a carrying basket to hooks on certain tarn saddles." — Assassin of Gor, page 81.



others we found

Tharnian tie - ankles are crossed and bound and the head is tied down. Head is fastened by a short tether running back to the ankles.

Capture Knot - used for binding slaves. Warriors can do it in less than 3 Ihn. Struggling tightens the knot.

Thus, in short, the leash ran from the ring at the front of her neck, the ring on the hood straps, down, tightly between her breasts, tightly between her legs, and tightly up to her crossed, bound wrists. But her wrists were also attached to her crossed, bound ankles, and thus, with respect to her ankles, she was limited to two options, first, to try to keep her ankles close to her body, which was uncomfortable, and did nothing to relieve the warm, creasing, implacable stress of the leash between her legs, or, second, to try to move her ankles a bit away from her body, to relieve the pressure on her bent, aching legs, which, in turn, in virtue of the ankles' attachment to the wrists, would produce a further warm, stirring, arousing, sawing, excitatory motion of the leash. So, as she moved, or squirmed, or sought some comfort, or respite, for her bent, bound legs, held so closely to her body, the leash would move as well, tautly, effectively, doing more of its work. (Prize of Gor, Chapter 26, page 902)

It was a simple arousal tie, the sort of tie which well reminds a woman she is a slave. To be sure, it was perhaps a bit more severe, or cruel, than was necessary, and scarcely one in which one would be likely to place a beloved slave. But we must remember that the feelings of Selius Arconious toward his recent purchase were rather ambivalent. It is a tie, incidentally, not unfamiliar to slavers, particularly with captured free women, whom they are endeavoring to begin to acquaint with what is to be the nature of their new life, that of a sexual creature, that of a man's plaything and chattel. (Prize of Gor, Chapter 26, page 906)

And there are hundreds of passion ties. The numerous psychological dimensions of sexuality, well understood by, and well exploited by, Gorean masters, enhance a thousand times the sexual experiences of their chattels. (Prize of Gor, Chapter 26, page 906)

Capture Loops
Used by Slavers; lassoes made of leather formed with slip knots dropped over a leg, head or arm and pulled tight.

"Then, as we milled and ran, here and there among us were men of Port Kar, warriors, some with helmet and shield, sword and spear, others with club and knife, others with whips, some with capture loops, some with capture nets, all with binding fiber. Among them ran slaves, carrying torches, that they might see to their work." — Raiders of Gor, page 51.



bow knot - sort of knot which on Gor, in certain contexts, is spoken of as a slave knot. Sometimes prescribed by masters for the fastening of slave garments. It may be easily undone with a casual tug.


"The simple bowknot is often spoken of as the slave knot. It is the sort of knot prescribed by masters's for the fastening of slave garments, because of its ease in undoing. It is fastened at the left side of the girl's waist, where it is handy for a right-handed male, facing her." — Renegades of Gor", page 161.



Gordian Knot,fifty-five turn knot

A style of a complex knot; of Earth fame, Alexander the Great sliced such a knot with his sword, thusly sealing his fate. See: "Complex Knot."

1) an intricate problem; especially: a problem insoluble in its own terms — usually used in the phrase cut the Gordian knot;
2) a knot tied by Gordius, king of Phrygia, held to be capable of being untied only by the future ruler of Asia, and cut by Alexander the Great with his sword. — Merriam-Webster Dictionary ©2004-2006

"Knot that gave its name to a proverbial term for a problem solvable only by bold action. In 333 BC, on his march through Anatolia, reached Gordium, the capital of Phrygia. There he was shown the chariot of the ancient founder of the city, Gordius, with its yoke lashed to the pole by means of an intricate knot with its end hidden. According to tradition, this knot was to be untied only by the future conqueror of Asia. In the popular account, probably invented as appropriate to an impetuous warrior, Alexander sliced through the knot with his sword, but, in earlier versions, he found the ends either by cutting into the knot or by drawing out the pole. The phrase "cutting the Gordian knot" has thus come to denote a bold solution to a complicated problem." — Encyclopaedia Britannica ©2004-2006
Elizabeth then watched in silence while I, trying to recall the intricacies of my signature knot, worked the boskhide cords. At last, with a sigh, I leaned back, finished. "It is a regular Gordian Knot," she said.
"The Gordian Knot," I said, "was quite possibly just such a knot."
"Alexander," she remarked, smiling, "cut it with his sword."
"And in so doing," I laughed, "informed the entire world that the room, or whatever it was, had been entered." — Assassin of Gor, page 55.



Complex Knot
Also known as the Signature Knot; each person has his or her own style of tying knots, used specifically for compartments that do not have a metal lock, but rather only have a latch string hole. These locks are complex designs of tying (or turns), i.e, Tarl Cabot had a 52-turn knot. Similar to the ancient Gordian knot, made infamous by Alexander the Great

signature knot fifty -seven turn knot
A knot unique to each person. These knots serve more as a means of alerting the owner of a compartment (room, house, et al) as to whether or not his or her home has been violated.

J=}Jondalar{Observe," I said. I then took the two dangling cords and began to tie what must have seemed to her an incredible knot." Actually," I informed her, as I continued to weave the cords together in an ever larger and more complex fashion, "this is only a fifty-seven turn knot. It is, however, my own invention, though I never thought I'd need it. This trick was taught to me by Andreas of Tor, years ago, of the Caste of Singers, for doors in the city of Tor are commonly of this variety. His own knot was a sixty-two turn knot, father's was seventy-one; one of his brothers used a hundred, and four turn knot, which, as I recall, Andreas thought a pretentious."
"It is always the same knot though," said Elizabeth.
"Yes," I said, "each man has his own knot, as distinctive as a signature, and each knot is his own secret Only he can tie it, and, more importantly only he knows the reverse turns by which that knot, provided it has been untouched, is untied."
"Anyone then," said Elizabeth, "could untie the knot."
"Surely," I said." The problem is to reconstruct the knot after it has been untied."
"The owner of the compartment," said Elizabeth, "returning to the compartment and untying the knot can tell immediately whether or not it is his own knot."
"Correct," I said.
"And thus he knows," said Elizabeth, "whether or not the compartment has been entered in his absence."
"Yes," I said." Sometimes," I added, "someone enters the compartment and has a confederate on the outside attempt to duplicate the knot, that the man inside may surprise the occupant on his return, but commonly this stratagem is unsuccessful, because of the difficulties of duplicating the knot." Elizabeth then watched in silence while I, trying to recall the intricacies of my signature knot, worked the boskhide cords. At last, with a sigh, I leaned back, finished. — Assassin of Gor, pages 54-55.

"I've got it now," said Elizabeth, who, kneeling before the slave ring, had been practicing my signature knot, using the ring as a post.
"Good," I said. I myself had been spending some time mastering the knot she had invented, which, I was forced to admit, was suitably ingenious. I examined her knot, which I had tied about the handle of one of the chests near the wall. It is perhaps surprising, but I think there would have been little difficulty telling which knot had been tied by a man and which by a woman; moreover, though this was much subtler, Elizabeth's knot did, in its way, remind me of her. It was intelligent, intricate, rather aesthetically done and, here and there, in little bendings and loopings, playful. In such a small thing as these knots I was again reminded of the central differences in sex and personality that divide human beings, differences expressed in thousands of subtleties, many of which are often overlooked, as in the way a piece of cloth might be folded, a letter formed, a color remembered, a phrase turned. In all things, it seemed to me, we manifest ourselves, each differently.
"You might check this knot," said Elizabeth. I went over to her knot and she went over to mine, and each began, carefully, movement by movement, to check the other's knot. Elizabeth's knot was a fifty-five turn knot. Mine was fifty-seven. — Assassin of Gor, pages 79-80.


I was not altogether without an expedient, however, as, upon examination, I discovered that the door had, as well as the latch string hole, another small hole bored below the latch bar, doubtless put there by someone who had used the room before myself. "This permits," I said to Elizabeth, indicating the small hole below the latch bar, "the complex knot."
"What is that?" she asked.
"Observe," I said to her. I sprang to my feet and looked about the room. There were several chests in the room, including the iron-banded one with its heavy lock. There were also some cabinets against one wall, filled with plate and cups, some bottles of paga and Ka-la-na.
"What are you looking for?" she asked.
"String," I said, "or cord, anything." We began to rummage through some of the chests and, almost immediately, Elizabeth discovered some five pairs of sandal thongs.
"Will these do?" she asked.
"Excellent," I said, taking a pair from her.
She knelt and watched me as I took one of the thongs and sat cross-legged by the door, and split it carefully over the edge of my sword. I now had, in effect, a piece of boskhide cord. I then looped the cord over the latch bar and then put both ends of the cord through the small hole, so they dangled on the outside of the door. I then swung the door inward. "Suppose," I said, "I now tied a relatively fair-sized knot with these two ends of the cord."
Elizabeth looked at the cords for a moment. "Then," she said, "you would have tied the latch bar down, so it could not be lifted with the latch string." I smiled. Elizabeth was quick, always quick. In tying such a knot, with the cord looped on the inside about the latch bar, and the knot too large to slip through the hole, I would have fastened the bar down. "But someone could untie the knot," she pointed out, "and enter."
"Of course," I said, looking at her.
She looked at me for a moment, puzzled. Then suddenly her face broke into a smile and she clapped her hands. "Yes!" she laughed. "Marvelous!" Elizabeth was one of quickest girls I had ever known. She, of Earth, had never heard of this trick, and yet, from the barest of hints, she had understood what could be done.
"Observe," I said. I then took the two dangling cords and began to tie what must have seemed to her an incredible knot. "Actually," I informed her, as I continued to weave the cords together in an ever larger and more complex fashion, "this is only a fifty-seven turn knot. It is, however, my own invention, though I never thought I'd need it. This trick was taught to me by Andreas of Tor, years ago, of the Caste of Singers, for doors in the city of Tor are commonly of this variety. His own knot was a sixty-two turn knot, father's was seventy-one; one of his brothers used a hundred, and four turn knot, which, as I recall, Andreas thought a pretentious."
"It is always the same knot though," said Elizabeth.
"Yes," I said, "each man has his own knot, as distinctive as a signature, and each knot is his own secret Only he can tie it, and, more importantly only he knows the reverse turns by which that knot, provided it has been untouched, is untied."
"Anyone then," said Elizabeth, "could untie the knot."
"Surely," I said. "The problem is to reconstruct the knot after it has been untied."
"The owner of the compartment," said Elizabeth, "returning to the compartment and untying the knot can tell immediately whether or not it is his own knot."
"Correct," I said.
"And thus he knows," said Elizabeth, "whether or not the compartment has been entered in his absence."
"Yes," I said. "Sometimes," I added, "someone enters the compartment and has a confederate on the outside attempt to duplicate the knot, that the man inside may surprise the occupant on his return, but commonly this stratagem is unsuccessful, because of the difficulties of duplicating the knot." — Assassin of Gor, pages 52-55.







Would you like me to show you some others?" I asked.
"Signature knots?" she asked.
"No," I said, "simple knots, common Gorean knots." … I then illustrated, she cooperating, several other common knots, among them the Karian anchor knot, the Pin hitch, the double Pin hitch, the Builder's bend and the Builder's overhand. — Assassin of Gor, pages 81-82.

[adreannaTal{fb}]

# 4 In most cities, it is criminal offense to enslave those from which castes? ( PROVIDE QUOTE)

yeahhh kintia got it right

In most cities it is regarded, incidentally, as a criminal offense to enslave one of the caste of players. A similar decree, in most cities, stands against the enslavement of one who is of the caste of musicians. pg 44, Beasts of Gor.

[adreannaTal{fb}]

#5
3 parter

1. What hangs on the golden chain slung around Svein Blue Tooth’s neck?

2. As a sign of friendship and bonding, men hold dirt and grass in the Land of the Wagon peoples...what do the Men of Torvlsland do that is similar, is a “sign” of friendship?

3. Where do the people of Torvaldsland get most of their salt?

again kintia came up to me with the right responce


1. Pierced tooth of a Hunger whale

"We come in peace," said the Kur.
How many gather?" pressed Blue Tooth.
About his neck, from a fine, golden chain, pierced, hung the tooth of a Hunjer whale, dyed blue.
Marauders of Gor

2. Similar to the ritual of the Tahari, the sharing of salt is a tradition found among the giants of Torvaldsland, who are said to harvest salt from the sea.

You, too, are quite skilled," I told him. Indeed, he had much bested me. I still had not fathomed the devious variations of the Jarl’s Ax’s gambit as played in the north. I expected, however, to solve it.We had shaken hands over the board.
Friend," he had said. "Friend," I had said.
We had then tasted salt, each from the back of the wrist of the other.
Marauders of Gor


3. Sea water or burning seaweed

Salt, incidentally, is obtained by the men of Torvaldsland, most commonly, from sea water or from the burning of seaweed. It is also, however, a trade commodity, and is sometimes taken in raidsThe red and yellow salts of the south, some of which I saw on the tables, are not domestic to Torvaldsland.
Marauders of Gor

[adreannaTal{fb}]

#6
3 parter

1. Women who relish this is in her heart a slave girl.

2. Which word means To the Priest-Kings of Gor.

3. What means an invitation to dinner.

ut oh Jondalar kintia is even with you again she came to me with correct anwers
good job kintia...you even provided some other quotes other than adreanna had for the answer again we learned something new...yeahhh



1. a compliment

“He spoke to me,” she said. “so I turned and knelt before him, the tunics clutched in my arms. ‘You are pretty,’ he said to me. This pleased me.” Slave girls relish compliments. Indeed, there is a Gorean saying to the effect that any woman who relishes a compliment is in her heart a slave girl. She wants to please. Most Gorean men would not think twice about collaring a girl who responds, smiling, to compliments. It is regarded as right to enslave a natural slave. Most masters, incidentally, make a girl they own earn her compliments. She must struggle to be worthy of complimenting. She so struggles. Gorean compliments are generally meaningful, for they tend to be given only when deserved, and sometimes not then. A girl desires to please her master. When she is complimented she knows she has pleased him. This makes her happy, not simply because then she knows she is less likely to be punished, but because she, in her heart, being a woman, truly desires to please one who is her complete master.
BEASTS OF GOR

2. Ta-Sardar-Gor

"Ta-Sardar-Gor." "What does that mean?" I asked, my words fumbling a bit, blurred by the liquor, made unsteady by my fear. "It means," laughed Cabot, a mirthless laugh, " - to the Priest-Kings of Gor!"
OUTLAW OF GOR


3. share our kettle

“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Share our kettle,” he said.
“I would be delighted,” I said.
I glanced at Amina and Rimice, and they swiftly, frightened, averted their eyes. We would discuss their fates on the other side of the wagon, while we supped.
VAGABONDS OF GOR

[adreannaTal{fb}]

#7 quotes please

1. are there dolls on Gor ?

2. was paga ever served from a bottle?

3. find the quote about a woman who was a FW then a slave then a FW again then a slave again?
((Please provide a quote from each book as they appear in order( 5 total)))


ut oh Jondalar kintia is even with you again she came to me with correct anwers
good job kintia...you even provided some other quotes other than adreanna had for the answer again we learned something new...yeahhh

1. "Be silent, slave," said I, poking about, and then I saw in the bottom of the chest, almost colorless, ragged, not more than a foot high nor a few ounces heavy, a small worn, tattered doll, dressed in faded Robes of Concealment, of a sort little girls might play with on the bridges or in the corridors of cylinders, dressing it or singing to it.
Assassin of Gor page 250

The smaller children played together, the boys playing games with small nets and reed marsh spears, the girls with rence dolls, or some of the older ones sporting with throwing sticks, competing against one another.
Raiders of Gor pg(s) 41
kintia added this one too

2. I turned suddenly into the kitchen in which the food for the hall of Cernus is prepared. Some startled slaves leaped up, each chained by one ankle to her ring; but most slept, drunk; one or two drunk to notice me, were sitting against the wall, their left ankles chained to their slave rings, a bottle of Ka-la-na in their grasp, their hair falling forward.
“Where is the Paga?” I demanded of one of the girls. Startled, I saw, now that she stood forth from the shadows, that she had no nose.
“There, Master!” said she, pointing to a basket of bottles under the large cutting table in the center of the room.
I went to the basket and took out a bottle, a large one.
I looked about myself.
There was the odor of food in the kitchen, and of spilled drink. There were several yards of sausages hung on hooks; numerous canisters of flour, sugars and salts; many smaller containers of spices and condiments. Two large wine jugs stood in one corner of the room. There were many closed pantries lining the walls, and a number of pumps and tubs on one side. Some boxes and baskets of hard fruit were stored there. I could see the bread ovens in one wall; the long fire pit over which could be put cooking racks, the mountings for spits and kettle hooks; the fire pit was mostly black now, but here and there, I could see a few broken sticks of glowing charcoal; aside from this, the light in the room came from one small tharlarion oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, near the side where the kitchen slaves were chained, presumably to facilitate the guard check which, during the night, took place each second Ahn; the other lamps in the room were now extinguished.
I took another bottle of paga from the basket and tossed it to the girl without a nose, who had directed me to the paga.
“Thank you, Master,” said she, smiling, going back to her ring. I saw her nudge the girls on the left and right of her. “Paga,” I heard her whisper.
“Kajuralia,” I said to her.
“Kajuralia,” she said.
ASSASSIN OF GOR-, 5; Pages 271-272

The men who had come to the tavern were roistering but order, to some extent, had been restored. Two of the ship’s lanterns had been broken. There was glass, and spilled paga about, and two broken tables. But the musicians were again playing and again, in the square of sand, the girl performed, through not now the Whip Dance. Nude slave girls, wrists chained, hurried about. The Proprietor, sweating, aproned, was tipping yet another great bottle of paga in its sling, filling cups, that they might be borne to the drinkers. There was an occasional scream from the alcoves, bringing laughter from the tables. I heard the flash of a whip somewhere, and the cries of a girl.
RAIDERS OF GOR-, 6; Page 105

I threw a sliver tarsk, taken from what we had obtained from the slavers in the marsh, to the proprietor of the paga tavern, and took in return one of the huge bottles of paga, and took in return one of the huge bottles out of the tavern, making my way along the narrow walkway lining the canal, toward the quarters taken by my men, Thurnock and Clitus, with our slaves.
I had pounded on the beamed door of our quarters. “Paga!” I had cried. “I bring paga!”
Thurnock took down the beams from the door, and swung it open.
“Paga!” he shouted, pleased, seeing the great bottle.
RAIDERS OF GOR-, 6; Page 111

3. adreanna wins this round shares it with kintia too she got 1st and 2nd adreanna stumped with the 3rd..(grins).....


Telena was her name

#1 here She did forced *Master Tarl* by the Code of the Warrior to take her as a slave or slayn Her, because She did not wanna be left

`I can force you to take me,' she said.
`How?' I asked.
`Like this,' she responded, kneeling before me, lowering her head and lifting her arms, the wrists crossed. She laughed. `Now you must take me with you or slay me.'
I cursed her, for she took unfair advantage of the Warrior Codes of Gor.
Page 109 Tarnsman of GOR



#2 here *Master Tarl* got challenged by *Master Kazrak* for the Ownership of His slave talena wich shows she was a slave

“Yield her or I will have my tharlarion trample you,” he snapped, “or would you prefer to be spitted on my lance?”
“You know the codes,” I said evenly. “If you want her, you must challenge for her and meet me with the weapon of my choice.”
Tarnsman of Gor 1 Page 117




#3 here it is obviosly She is freed cause *Master Tarl* and Her got FC´d


Talena looked into my eyes. "What will you do with me?" she asked.
"I will take you to Ko-ro-ba," I said, "to my city"
"As your slave?" she smiled.
"If you will have me," I said, "as my Free Companion."
"I accept, Tarl of Ko-ro-ba by," said Talena with love in her eyes. "I accept you as my Free Companion."
"If you did not." I laughed, "I would throw you across my saddle and carry you to Ko-ro-ba by force."
She laughed as I swept her from her feet and lifted her to the saddle of my giant tarn. In the saddle, her arms were around my neck, her lips on mine.
"Are you a true warrior?" she asked, her eyes bright with mischief, testing me, her voice breathless.
"We shall see," I laughed. Then, in accord with the rude bridal customs of Gor, as she furiously but playfully struggled, as she squirmed and protested and pretended to resist, I bound her bodily across the saddle of the tarn. Her wrists and ankles were secured, and she lay before me, arched over the saddle, helpless, a captive, but of love and her own free will. The warriors laughed, Marlenus the loudest.
"It seems I belong to you, bold Tarnsman," she said. "What are you going to do with me?"
In answer, I hauled on the one-strap, and the great bird rose into the air, higher and higher, even into the clouds, and she cried to me,
"Let it be now, Tarl," and even before we had passed the outermost ramparts of Ar, I had untied her ankles and flung her single garment to the streets below, to show her people what had been the fate of the daugher of their Ubar.

Page 213 Tarnsman of GOR




#4 After *Master Tarl* came back from Earth His city Ko-ro-ba was destroyed. Talena was not there any more too, She was somewhere on Gor...in this Quote is shows what happened to the Mistress, She got captured by PG and sold. She was once more a slave. *Master Tarl* here *Master Bosk* freed Her then.



"Shall I present her to you," asked Samos, "naked, and in bracelets?"
"No," I had said. "Present her in the most resplendent robes you can find, as befits a high-born woman of the city of Ar."
"But she is a slave," he said. "Her thigh bears the brand of Treve. Her throat is encircled in the collar of my house."
"As befits," said I, "a high-born woman of the city of glorious Ar."
And so it was that she, Talena, once daughter of Marlenus of Ar, then disowned, once my companion, was ushered into my presence.
"The slave," said Samos.
"Do not kneel," I said to her.
"Strip your face, Slave," said Samos.
Gracefully the girl, the property of Samos, first slaver of Port Kar, removed her veil, unfastening it, dropping it about her shoulders.
We looked once more upon each other.
I saw again those marvelous green eyes, those lips, luscious, perfect for crushing beneath a warrior's mouth and teeth, the subtle complexion, olive. She removed a pin from her hair, and, with a small movement of her head, shook loose the wealth of her sable hair.
We regarded one another.
"Is master pleased?" she asked.
"It has been long, Talena," said I.
"Yes," she said, "it has been long."
"He is free," said Samos.
"It has been long, Master," she said.
"Many years," said I. "Many years." I smiled at her. "I last saw you on the night of our companionship."
"When I awakened, you were gone," she said. "I was abandoned."
"Not of my own free will did I leave you," said I. "That was not of my will."
I saw in the eyes of Samos that I must not speak of Priest-Kings. It had been they who had returned me then to Earth.
"I do not believe you," she said.
"Watch your tongue, Girl," said Samos.
"If you command me to believe you," she said, "I shall, of course, for I am slave."
I smiled. "No," I said, "I do not command you."
"I was kept in great honor in Ko-ro-ba," she said, "respected and free, for I had been your companion, even after the year of the companionship had gone, and it had not been renewed."
At that point, in Gorean law, the companionship had been dissolved. The companionship had not been renewed by the twentieth hour, the Gorean Midnight, of its anniversary.
"When Priest-Kings, by fire signs, made it clear Ko-ro-ba was to be destroyed, I left the city."
No stone would be allowed to stand upon a stone, no man of Ko-ro-ba to stand by another.
The population had been scattered, the city razed by the power of the Priest-Kings.
"You fell slave," I said.
"Within five days," she said, "as I tried to return to Ar, I was sheltered by an itinerant leather worker, who did not believe, of course, that I was the daughter of Marlenus of Ar. He treated me well the first evening, with gentleness and honor. I was grateful. In the morning, to his laughter, I awakened. His collar was on my throat." She looked at me, angrily. "He then used me well. Do you understand? He forced me to yield to him, I, the daughter of Marlenus of Ar, he only a leather worker. Afterwards he whipped me. He taught me to obey. At night he chained me. He sold me to a salt merchant." She regarded me. "I have had many masters," she said.
"Among them," I said, "Rask of Treve."
She stiffened. "I served him well," she said. "I was given no choice. It was he who branded me." She tossed her head. "Until then many masters had regarded me as too beautiful to brand."
"They were fools," said Samos. "A brand improves a slave."
She put her head in the air. I had no doubt this was one of the most beautiful women on Gor.
"It is because of you, I gather," said she to me, "that I have been permitted clothing for this interview. Further, I have you to thank, I gather, that I have been given the opportunity to wash the stink of the pens from my body."
I said nothing.
"The cages are not pleasant," she said. "My cage measures four paces by four paces. In it are twenty girls. Food is thrown to us from above. We drink from a trough."
"Shall I have her whipped?" asked Samos.
She paled.
"No," I said.
"Rask of Treve gave me to a panther girl in his camp, one named Verna. I was taken to the northern forests. My present master, noble Samos of Port Kar, purchased me at the shore of Thassa. I was brought to Port Kar chained to a ring in the hold of his ship. Here, in spite of my birth, I was placed in a pen with common girls."
"You are only another slave," said Samos.
"I am the daughter of Marlenus of Ar," she said, proudly.
"In the forest," I said, "it is my understanding that you sued for your freedom, begging in a missive that your father purchase you."
"Yes," she said. "I did so."
"Are you aware," I asked, "that against you, on his sword and on the medallion of Ar, Marlenus swore the oath of disownment?"
"I do not believe it," she said.
"You are no longer his daughter," I said. "You are now without caste, without Home Stone, without family."
"You lie!" she screamed.
"Kneel to the whip," said Samos.
Piteously she knelt, a slave girl. Her wrists were crossed under her, as though bound, her head was to the floor, the bow of her back was exposed.
She shuddered. I had little doubt but what this slave knew well, and much feared, the disciplining kiss of the Gorean slave lash.
Samos' sword was in his hand, thrust under the collar of her garment, ready to thrust in and lift, parting the garment, causing the robes to fall to either side, about her then naked body.
"Do not punish her," I told Samos.
Samos looked at me, irritably. The slave had not been pleasing.
"To his sandal, Slave," said Samos.
I felt Talena's lips press to my sandal. "Forgive me, Master," she whispered.
"Rise," I said.
She rose to her feet, and stepped back. I could see she feared Samos.
"You were disowned," I told her. "Your status now, whether you know this or not, is less than that of the meanest peasant wench, secure in her caste rights."
"I do not believe you," she said.
"Do you care for me," I asked, "Talena."
She pulled the robes down from her throat. "I wear a collar," she said. I saw the simple, circular, gray collar, the collar of the house of Samos, locked about her throat.
"What is her price?" I asked Samos.
"I paid ten pieces of gold for her," said Samos.
She seemed startled that she had sold for so small a sum. Yet, for a girl, late in the season, high on the coast of Thassa, it was a marvelous price. Doubtless she had obtained it only because she was so beautiful. Yet, to be sure, it was less than she would have brought if expertly displayed on the block in Turia or Ar, or Ko-ro-ba, or Tharna, or Port Kar.
"I will give you fifteen," I said.
"Very well," said Samos.
With my right hand I reached into the pouch at my belt and drew out the coins.
I handed them to Samos.
"Free her," I said.
Samos, with a general key, one used for many of the gray collars, unlocked the band of steel which encircled her lovely throat.
"Am I truly free?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. Marauders of Gor

#5 here Telena was again slave for haveing couched anothers slave
quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How came you to be a slave?” I asked.
She looked up, her eyes clouded. She bit her lip.
“Consider your reply carefully,” I said.
“I was taken to the levies,” she said.
“You have earned yourself discipline,” I said.
“Please, no!” she cried. “Have pity on me! I am only a poor slave!”
“Do you think it is permissible for you to lie to a free man?” I asked.
“No, Master!” she said. She put down her head, her head in her hands, and sobbed.
“Your reticence is interesting,” I said. “The matter is doubtless entered in your papers.”
“Yes, Master,” she sobbed.
“Speak, girl,” I said.
“I was taken pursuant to the couching laws,” she said.

Magicians



Any free woman who voluntarily couches with another’s slave, or readies herself to do so, becomes the slave of the slave’s master. By such an act, the couching with, or the readying herself to couch with, a slave, as though she might be a girl of the slave’s master, thrown to the slave, she shows herself as no more than a slave, and in this act, in law, becomes a slave....
Magicians of Gor, 19:303


Here we see the documents kept accurate so they can be useful in a court of law.I looked down at the new slave, whom I had decided to call ‘Talena’, which slave name was also entered on her papers, in the first endorsement, as her first slave name pertinent to these papers, and by means of which she could always be referred to in courts of law as, say, the slave who on such and such a date was known by the name ‘Talena.’ This did not preclude her name being changed, of course, now or later, by myself, or others.
Magicians

[adreannaTal{fb}]

#8 quotes please

1. who began to shake in his yoke like a diseased animal?

2. who was the Father of Al-Ka and Ba-Ta?

3. what are the purple booths?

4. What are the Four tribes of the Wagon Peoples?
(give all 4 quotes )




kintia got this one right

1. the answer is Ost

“No, Beloved Tatrix, no!” cried Ost. Terror, like a trapped cat, seemed to scratch behind his eyes, and he began to shake in his yoke like a diseased animal. Scornfully the guardsman lifted him to his feet and dragged him stumbling and whimpering from the room. I gathered the sentence to the mines was equivalent to a sentence of death.
---Outlaw of Gor, 11:97

2. it was Kusk the Priest King

"I am Mul-Al-Ka," said one, "honored slave of the glorious
Priest-Kings."

"I am Mul-Ba-Ta," said the other, ""honored slave of the
glorious Priest-Kings."

"In the Nest," said Misk, "the expression "Mul" is used to
designate a human slave."

I nodded. The rest of it I did not need to be told. The
expressions "Al-Ka" and "Ba-Ta" are the two first letters of
the Gorean alphabet. In effect these men had no names, but
were simply known as Slave A and Slave B.

I turned to Sarm.

"I assume," I said, "you have more than twenty-eight human
slaves." There were twenty-eight characters in the Gorean
alphabet. I had intended my remark to be rather vicious but
Sarm took no offense.

"Others are numbered," he said. "When one dies or is
destroyed, his number is assigned to another."

"Some of the low numbers," volunteered Misk, "have been
assigned as many as a thousand times."

"Why do these slaves not have numbers?" I asked.

"They are special," said Misk.

I regarded them closely. They seemed splendid specimens of
mankind. Perhaps Misk had meant merely that they were
unusually excellent representatives of the human type.

"Can you guess," asked Sarm, "which one has been synthesized?"

I must have given quite a start.

Sarm’s antennae giggled.

"Yes," said Sarm, "one was synthesized, beginning with the
synthesis of the protein molecules, and was formed molecule
by molecule. It is artificially constructed human being. It
is not of much scientific interest but it has considerable
curiosity value. It was built over a period of two centuries
by Kusk, the Priest-King, as a way of escaping in his leisure
hours from the burdens of his serious biological
investigations.
~ PriestKing of Gor / Book 3 ~

3. [The] Purple Booth
A practice amongst slavers when selling to important and rich customers, is to afford the prospective buyer a chance to test the intimate qualities of a red-silk slave girl before purchasing. Such allowances are set up in purple booths.

"You are not now in the purple booth," I said. She laughed. The allusion was to certain practices having to do with the merchandising of Red Silk Girls, in private sales for individual and important clients of the House. At certain times of the year several such booths are set up within the courtyard of a slaver's house; in each, unclothed, chained by the left ankle to a ring, on furs, is a choice Red Silk Girl; prospective buyers, usually accompanied by a member of the Caste of Physicians, in the presence of the slaver's agent, examine various girls; when particular interest is indicated in one, the Physician and the slaver's agent withdraw; when, after this, the girl is not purchased, or at least seriously bid upon, she is beaten severely or, perhaps worse, is touched for a full Ehn by the slave goad; if, after two or three such opportunities, the girl is not sold, she is given further training; if after this she is still not sold she is usually returned to the iron pens whence, with other girls, considered to be of inferior value, she will be sold at a price in one of the smaller markets, perhaps even in a minor city. Most girls, it might be mentioned, even extremely choice specimens, are never in the booths; generally the slaver has a chance at a higher price when there are many buyer bidding against one another in the heat of an auction. — Assassin of Gor, page 57.

4. 4 Tribes of the Wagonpeople

The Kassars ....known as "Blood People "

The Kaitaii ...

The Paravaci...known as "Rich People"

The Tuchuks....known as "Wily Ones"

the actually always fight with each other...only every 10 years They do come together...each of those Tribes have Their own brand and sign...


The Wagon Peoples, too, each have an individual brand for their female slaves. The Tuchuk brand, tiny and fine, is the paired bosk horns. Tana, the paga slave in Lydius, wore it. The brand of the Kataii is that of a bow, facing to the left; the brand of the Kassars is that of the three-weighted bola; the brand of the Paravaci is a symbolic representation of a bosk head, a semicircle resting on an inverted isosceles triangle.
HUNTERS OF GOR; 8; Page 194

KASSAR
one of the 4 Tribes of the Wagon Peoples, they are known as the Blood People. Their standard is a scarlet three-weighted bola, hanging from a lance. Their brand, which is used on both slaves and bosk, is a stylized representation of a bola, three circles joined at the center by lines.
Nomads of Gor, page 14


The standard of the Kassars is that of a scarlet, three-weighted bola, which hangs from a lance; the symbolic representation of a bola, three circles joined at the center by lines, is used to mark their bosk and slaves.
Nomads of Gor, page 106

KATAII
one of the 4 tribes of the Wagon Peoples. The Kataii are black-skinned. Their standard is a yellow bow, bound across a black lance. Their brand is a yellow bow, facing to the left.
Nomads of Gor, page 14

The standard of the Kataii is a yellow bow, bound across a black lance; their brand is also that of a bow, facing to the left
Nomads of Gor, page 106


PARAVACI
one of the 4 tribes of the Wagon Peoples, the Paravaci are known as The Rich People. Their standard is a large banner of jewels strung on golden wires, forming the head and horn of a bosk. The value of such a standard is incalculable. The Paravaci brand is a stylized representation of a bosk head: a semi-circle resting on an inverted isosceles triangle.
Nomads of Gor, page 14


TUCHUK
the fiercest of the four tribes of the Wagon Peoples. Tuchuk philosophies and personality are personified by it's secret Ubar, Kamchak. A proud, cunning, lusty, brawling, exceptionally skilled warrior who disguises his considerable intellect and deadly, aggressive spirit beneath wit and a broadly sketched 'who me?' befuddlement. These nomads have encampments of thousands of gaily painted wagons, their herds of the reverenced bosk, often numbering into the millions, surrounding them. Throughout the day, the camps are teeming with scarred warriors, kaiila, clad Kajir slaves, dour free women, haruspexes and domesticated sleen. All Tuchuk men are expected to defend their encampment, so there are no castes as such, but clans, such as healers, leather workers and salt seekers exist, including the clan of torturers. The Tuchuk warrior prays to the 'Spirit of the Sky' on kaiila-back with his weapons at hand, demanding victory and luck for themselves, defeat and misery for their enemies, primarily Turia. '...chief of the things before which the proud Tuchuk stands ready to remove his helmet is the sky, the simple, vast beautiful sky, from which falls the rain that, in his myths, formed the earth, the bosks, and the Tuchuks.
Nomads of Gor, pages 12, 21,27, and 28.



The brand of the Tuchuk slave , incidentally, is not the same as that used in the cities, which for girls is the first letter of the expression Kajirain cursive script, but the sign of the four bosk horns, that of the Tuchuk standard , the brand of the four bosk horns, set in a manner to somewhat resemble the letter H, is only about an inch high.

Nomads of Gor
--pg. 62


In the shape of the four bosk horns, set in such a manner as to somewhat resemble the English letter "H." is only about an inch high. The Tuchuk brand their bosk with the same symbol though much larger. Another type of brand found amonst the Tuchuk, is a tiny brand, in the form of spreading bosk horns, worn on the forearm; guarantees passage for a merchant or singer, at certain seasons, across the plains of the Wagon Peoples; occasionally permitted by the Tuchuks, who crave their wares, to approach the wagons. This acceptance brand, of course, carries with it a certain stain of ignominy, suggesting that those who approach the wagons do so as slaves.
"The brand of the Tuchuk slave , incidently, is not the same as that used in the cities, which for girls is the first letter of the expression Kajirain cursive script, but the sign of the four bosk horns, that of the Tuchuk standard , the brand of the four bosk horns, set in a manner to somewhat resemble the letter H, is only about an inch high."
Nomads of Gor, page 62


The Tribes of Gor


Tuchuk, Kassar, Paravachi, Kataii, Who are they? where did they come
from? What decent are they? hope to enlighten you on
the Histories of these people as well as a breif background of their
beleif system. First We must cover the basics that are common to All
the Wagon Peoples. the commonalities that binds them in tradition on
Gor.
All the Nomadic Wagon tribes have many things in common, They have
a political structure, and a beleif system, in their political
struture, they are always lead by an Ubar. He is the sole leader of the
thousands of wagons. the First Wagon, or the Ubars Wagon, is generally
the largest in the Train, it is pulled by 100 bosk. though there are
other smaller wagons that are said to be of the first wagon, the Ubars
wagon is the largest, these other wagons are courtisans to the Ubar.
those of His family, and those that have gained His favor.
Those of the First wagon may be commanders of 1000, in earthen terms
they would be concidered generals,.in command of 1000 wagons. and the
ranks move down from there, Commander of 500 or lesser to Commander of
100.
All the Men of the Wagons wear Scars on their faces. these scars move
from the cheekbone down to the chin area. they are Red yellow black
and blue. these scars have meaning, the red scar is for Courage. No
Man of the Wagons will gain any respect with any of the People of the
wagons until this scar is earned, next is the Yellow scar, this is
for leadership, such as an Ubar or a commander, then the black scar
this is won in Glorious battle. finally the Blue scar or the peoples
scar, this is given for service to the Wagons.
The Beleif system of the Wagon people is that there is no Diety, nor
Deamon to pray to. they beleive only in what they can see or touch
or smell. Some pray to the sky, only because it is the giver of rain
and wind. All the tribes follow the same diet, they eat nothing of
the ground, they only partake of Bosk meat, and milk, they get
drunk from the curds of fermented bosk cream.
they use the Haruspex, for telling the future. these are their
fortune tellers. they are used in the omen year to predict the coming
of a new Ubarsan, or to predict the sex of an unborn bosk. they read
the blood and entrails of slaves, and the livers of bosk. they make
sacrifices to the sky with the burned bodies of bosk.
an interesting note about the Women of the wagons, is that they do not
wear veils or cover themselves in robes of concealment, they generally
wear bosk skin dresses, and braid their hair. They are feirce women
who in times of trouble fight along side the Men to save the wagons.
the slaves are usually dressed in a pancho type vestment with a rope
belt about it when they are walking amongst the wagons, this is called
the chatka and curla. unlike the freewomen they wear their hair free.
The Men of the wagon have but one vice, and that is they love a good
bet..they will bet on anything, which way a lance will fall from the
wind, or whether a bird will turn in flight from the south to the north
or on the seeds of a tospit, odd or even. The Wagon people rarely come
together, the only time is during an omen year. otherwise they have
their own territory marked out in the Turian plains.
The Tuchuk are the most commonly known tribe,it is beleived that they are
direct decendants of the people of the persian steps, near russia. Their standard is
four bosk horns mounted upon a lance. their brand is two sets of bosk
horns coming together to form an Earthen H in simility. The Tuchuk have
the most recognition because they have within their tribe the Ubarsan
Kamchak. or the sacred leader of all the tribes. The Tuchuk are known
also as the most feared of all the tribes, they have stormed Turia
and taken it, they have marched all the way up to the gates of Koroba
and could well have taken it if they wished to. they occupy the region
of the Plains closest to Turia, on the east of the plains near the Ta
thassa sea.
Directly across from the Tuchuks is the Kassar, these are the blood
people. it is said that they are direct decendants of Mongolian
Chinese and are dreaded fighters. they practice certain forms of
martial arts, and are conquerors. it is said that the kassar language
is the oldest language in Gor predating even Ar. Their standard is
a scarlet three weighted bola which is seated on a lance. their brand
is a stylisation of the bola. they occupy the western portion of the
Turian plains near the Aretai desert.
Directly to the north near the Southern rain forest is the lands of
the Paravachi, they are said to be the richest of the Wagon people.
they are descendants of the Latin/Italian heritage of earth, they at
one time challenged the Tuchuks to battle, and almost won if it hadnt
been for a brave effort of two Tuchuk warriors banding the Kassar
and the Kataii to aid the Tuchuks. Their brand is a jeweled
representation of a bosk head. and their brand is much like the old
middle eastern letter the aleif, which looks like the head of a cow.
They often wear ropes of jewels into battle, this is not done in
vanity, it is done to entice the enemy into fighting.
Finally is the Kataii tribe, they are dark skinned feirce warriors,
the Kataii are said to be the proud decendants of African Warrior
tribes, They are mysterious animalistic fighters, they fight with the
courage of a Larl. and with the strength of 1000 bosk. they are loyal
Men who fight with Honor. and they keep the traditions of their
ancestors. The Kataii standard is a yellow bow bound across a
black lance. and their brand is a yellow bow facing to the left.
There is one other tribe that is noteworthy of mentioning. that is the
kaiila tribes of the badlands below southern Gor. these people are the
direct decendants of Native Americans, they follow the traditions of
these proud people and carry their beleifs in Honor. they ride horses
whereas the Wagon people ride kaiila. little is known of the kaiila
tribe, they rarely trust anyone and can be savage if trespassed upon.
yet, in this light, if You are found to be worthy among them, You have
family for life.

[adreannaTal{fb}]

#9 QUOTES PLEASE

1. Who was known as the " Proud One"

2. she has the name of a sweet food and was owned by a Jarl

3. What is the "ox" on which the Home Stone rests?

4. Who is said to be "the most alone of men.” ?

5. 'What do you see?' I asked. 'Shrubbery.' He said, 'Some grass, some rence, two trees.'
'What sort of shrubbery?' I asked.
what is it?

good job kintia...you even found a few quote adreanna did not have

1. Dorna
"I looked up into the glittering mask of the Tatrix. Beside her I saw the silver mask of Dorna the Proud.
"Slay him," said Dorna the Proud, gesturing to the unconscious Kron. "
OUTLAW OF GOR

I come on behalf of Lara, who is true Tatrix of Tharna. Sheathe your weapons. No more shed the blood of men of your own city. I ask this in the name of Lara, and of the city of Tharna and its people. And I ask it in the name of the codes of your own caste, for your swords are pledged to the true Tatrix--Lara--not Dorna the Proud!"
---Outlaw of Gor, 24:231
(kinita had this one)

2. pudding she was the chainsister of Gunnhildowned by Jarl Forkbeard ALSO HONEY CAKE

The Forkbeard turned about and, one arm about Pudding, the other about Gunnhild, started from the dock.
Hilda followed him, to his left.
"She heels nicely," said Ottar. The men and bond-maids laughed. The Forkbeard stopped. Hilda's face burned red with fury, but she kept her head high.
Pet sleen are taught to heel; so, too, sometimes, are bond-maids; I was familiar with this sort of thing, of course; in the south it was quite common for slave girls; in various fashions in various cities, to heel their masters.
Hilda, of course, was a free woman. For her to heel was an incredible humiliation.
The Forkbeard started off again, and then again stopped. Again, Hilda followed him as before.
"She is heeling!" laughed Ottar."
~Marauders of Gor, page 123~

Ivar Forkbeard roared with laughter, his head back. On his lap, naked, cuddling, sat she who had been Aelgifu, her arms about his neck, her lips to the side of his head; her name had now been changed; the new name of the daughter of Gurt, Administrator of Kassau, was Pudding. On his other side, stripped, her collar of black iron at her throat, her arms about his waist, rubbing herself against his belt was the bond-maid Gunnhild.
Marauders of Gorpg 89
(kintia had this one)

FOUND SOME OTHER QUOTES OF SWEET NAMES....
What did your last Jarl call you?” asked the Forkbeard.

“Butter Pan,” she said.

The Forkbeard looked to Gunnhild. “What shall we call this pretty little slave?” he asked.

“Honey Cake,” suggested Gunnhild.

“You are Honey Cake,” said the Forkbeard.

“Yes, my Jarl,” said Miss Stevens.

The Forkbeard then left the bond-maid shed. We all followed him. He did not restrain Honey Cake in any way. She, nude, in her collar, back straight, accompanied him. Her head was high. She was a bought girl. The other girls, still on the chain, regarded her with envy, with resentment, hostility. She had paid them no attention. She had been purchased. They remained unbought girls, wenches left on the chain; they had not yet been found desirable enough to be purchased.
Marauders of Gor, page 164-165



I saw Honey Cake among them, and the Forkbeard’s golden girl, the southern silk girl, too, she laboring as any other bond-maid. I do not think that in the south she had been forced so to work. She staggered. “Hurry,” said the girl behind her, “or we will be beaten!” The girl moaned, and staggered to the gangplank, and, slowly, foot by foot, her bare feet pressed by the weight deeply into the rough boards, climbed, carrying her burden, to the deck of the ship. Among the girls, too, I saw Bera, she one of the Blue Tooth’s girls, one of several, who had been placed under the orders of Wulfstan to assist in the loading. She was naked. The other girls, resenting the tunic she had been given, had stripped her. Svein Blue Tooth had laughed. Masters do not interfere in the squabbles of slaves.
Marauders of Gor, page 288-289

The golden girl regarded Thorgard of Scagnar with horror. Then, eyes terrified, she regarded Ivar Forkbeard, of Forkbeard’s Landfall. “You are mine now,” said the Fork-beard. Then he said to Honey Cake, “Take my new slave to the pen.”

“Yes, Master,” she laughed. Then she took the golden girl, the southern girl, by the hair. “Come, Slave,” she said. She dragged the bound silk girl, bent over, behind her. “I think,” said Ivar Forkbeard, “I will give her for a month to Gunnhild, and my other wenches. They will enjoy having their own slave. Then, when the month is done, I will turn her over to the crew, and she will be, then, as my other bond-maids, no more or less.” Marauders of Gor, page 264 to 266



Read more: trapperslodge.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=gi&thread=181&page=1#ixzz17hG3vvaX


3. The Pesant is the Ox on which the Homestone sits

"Even the Caste of Peasants regarded itself as the "Ox on which the Home Stone Rests" and could seldom be encouraged to leave their narrow strips of land, which they and their fathers before them had owned and made fruitful."
- Outlaw of Gor
(kintia had this one which adreanna was looking for)

That caste is sometimes referred to as the 'ox on which the Home Stone rests.' I am not clear as to what a Home Stone is, but I have gathered that it, whatever it might be, is regarded as being of great importance on this world. So, if that is the case, and the Peasants is indeed the caste upon which the Home Stone rests, then it would seem, at least in my understanding, to be a very important caste. In any event, it would seem to me that the Peasants is surely one of, if not the, most significant of the castes of this world. So much depends upon them! Too, I am sure they do not regard themselves as being the lowest of the castes." (Witness of Gor, p.244-45

4. he who sits on the throne

“Only one can sit upon the throne,” said Msaliti.
“That is a saying in the north,” I said.
“I know,” said Msaliti. “But it is a saying that is also known east of Schendi.”
“Even east of Schendi,” I smiled, “the throne is a lonely country.”
“He who sits upon the throne, it is said,” said Msaliti, “is the most alone of men.” Explorers


kintia came up with this....but was looking for most alone of men but good try kintia....

"Most alone are those whom love has once touched, and left."
Captive of Gor, pg 369


5. festle It is mentioned to be found in the Vosk Delta marshes.

What do you see?" I asked. "Shrubbery." He said, "some grass, some rence, two trees."
"What sort of shrubbery?" I asked.
"Some festal," he said. "some tes, a bit of tor."
---Vagabonds of Gor, 30:339

[adreannaTal{fb}]

#10 quotes please

1. are there apricots on Gor?

2. Does "bosk urine" have a use on Gor?

3. which haircolor is not often seen on a slave?

4. Ivan Forkbeards Ship name ?

5. What is rence pith?

OKAY JONDALAR IS BACK AND GOING STRONG....

1. yes there were apricots

I brushed away two sellers of apricots and spices. "Come with me to the cafe of Red Cages," said a boy, pulling at my sleeve. They receive a copper tarsk for each patron they bring through the arched portal of the cafe. I gave the boy a copper tarsk, and he sped from me.
Tribesmen of Gor Page - 45


2. yes a a cleaning agent like amonia

"Most of the men at the thing were free farmers, blond-haired, blue-eyed and proud, men with strong limbs and work-roughened hands; many wore braided hair; many wore talmits of their district; for the thing their holiday best had been donned; many wore heavy woolen jackets, scrubbed with water and bosk urine, which contains ammonia as it's cleaning agent; all were armed, usually with ax or sword; some wore their helmets; others had them, with their shields, slung at their back. At the thing, to which each free man must come, unless he works his farm alone and cannot leave it, each man must be present, for the inspection of his Jarl's officer, a helmet, shield and either sword or ax or spear, in good condition.
"Hunters of Gor" Page 142

Most of the men at the thing were free farmers, blond-haired, blue-eyed and proud, men with strong limbs and work-roughened hands; many wore braided hair; many wore talmits of their district; for the thing their holiday best had been donned; many wore heavy woollen jackets, scrubbed with water and bosk urine, which contains ammonia as it's cleaning agent; all were armed, usually with ax or sword; some wore their helmets; others had them, with their shields, slung at their back. At the thing, to which each free man must come, unless he work his farm alone and cannot leave it, each man must be present, for the inspection of his Jarl´s officer, a helmet, shield and either sword or ax or spear, in good condition. Each man, generally, save he in the direct hire of the Jarl, is responsible for the existence and condition of his own equipment and weapons. A man in direct fee with the Jarl is, in effect, a mercenary; the Jarl himself, from his gold, and stores, where necessary or desirable, arms the man; this expense, of course, is seldom necessary in Torvaldsland; sometimes, however, a man may break a sword or lose an ax in battle, perhaps in the body of a foe, falling from a ship; in such a case the Jarl would make good the loss; he is not responsible for similar losses, however, among free farmers. Those farmers who do not attend the thing, being the sole workers on their farms, must, nonetheless, maintain the regulation armament; once annually it is to be presented before a Jarl´s officer, who, for this purpose, visits various districts. When the war arrow is carried, of course, all free men are to respond; in such a case the the farm may suffer, and his companion and children know great hardship; in leaving his family, the farmer, weapons upon his shoulder, speaks simply to them. "The war arrow has been carried to my house," he tells them.
Marauders of Gor, page 142
(JONDALAR FOUND THIS ONE)

3. red hair

"Did you know that auburn hair is highly prized in the slave markets?" I asked.
FIGHTING SLAVE OF GOR-, Page 364

It was not my fault that my hair had been shaved off, nor that I was not blonde or auburn-haired, like herself. Those hair colors tend to bring higher girl-prices.
SLAVE GIRL OF GOR-, Page 330


Essentially, merchant law is guided by the codes of the Caste and serves as a consumer protection system as well as a means to maintain the credibility of the members of the merchants. By policing their own, merchants manage to establish and preserve the trust of the customer population. One would not wish to buy a girl thinking she was auburn, a rare and muchly prized hair color on Gor, for example, and then discover she was, say blond, Against such fraud, needless to say, the law provides redress. Slavers will take pains to check out new catches or acquisitions, to ascertain the natural color of their hair, one of the items one expects to find, along with fingerprints and measurements, and such, on carefully prepared slave papers.
Vagabonds of Gor Chapter 19
(JONDALAR FOUND THIS ONE)

One would not wish to buy a girl thinking she was auburn, a rare and muchly prized hair color on Gor, for example, and then discover later that she was, say, blond. Against such fraud, needless to say, the law provides redress."
~Vagabonds of Gor, page 186~
(JONDALAR FOUND THIS ONE)

4. Forkbeard's ship was named the Hilda, after the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar.


“The name of the ship of Thorgard of Scagnar,” I said, “is Black Sleen. What is the name of your ship, if I may know ?”
“The name of my ship,” said Ivar, “is the Hilda.” “Is it not unusual for a ship of the north to bear the name of a woman ?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“Why is she called the Hilda ?” I asked.
“That is the name of the daughter of Thorgard of Scag-nar,” said Ivar Forkbeard.
I looked up at him, astonished.
"Marauders of Gor" page 45?

5. pith is edible both raw and cooked IT IS A STAPLE


On the Rence Plant A kind of paper is made from rence. The plant itself has a long, thick root, about four inches thick, which lies horizontally under the surface of the water; small roots sink downward into the mud from this main root, and several "stems," as many as a dozen, rise from it, often of the length of fifteen to sixteen feet from the root; it has an excrescent, usually single floral spike. The plant has many uses besides serving as a raw product in the manufacture of rence paper. The root, which is woody and heavy, is used for dertain wooden tools and utensils, which can be carved from it; also, when dried, it makes a good fuel; from the stem the rence growers can make reed boats, sails, mats, cords and a kind of fibrous cloth; further, its pith is edible, and for the rence growers is, with fish, a staple in their diet; the pith is edible both raw and cooked; some men, lost in the delta, not knowing the pith edible, have died of starvation in the midst of what was, had they known it, an almost endless abundance of food. The pith is also used, upon occasion, as a caulking for boat seams, but tow and pitch, covered with tar or grease, are generally used.
Raiders of Gor: Page 7

rence, pith of: edible part of the rence plant, either raw or cooked. Rence pith and fish are the dietary staples of the rence growers. Also sometimes used for caulking.
Book 6: Raiders of Gor, page 7
( JONDALAR FOUND THIS ONE)