I will not roleplay with you for the reasons evidenced by this thread. There are other reasons, but they are insignificant in comparison.Originally Posted by ~Rocktar~
I may quit the PC cause I lost to Drew
I will not roleplay with you for the reasons evidenced by this thread. There are other reasons, but they are insignificant in comparison.
Senior Member
That is some weird shit.
Senior Member
This so perfectly summarized the thread that it has become my new signature.
I may quit the PC cause I lost to Drew
Exactly.
Now do you see why his 32 year old, working class, indignant conservative routine is pretty funny?
Each time he posts something from theblaze.com, I think, "but you did erotic-roleplay with other dudes online - does not compute."
YES! I hated your last one.
PC RETARD HALL OF FAME
Homewrecker
I just saw this. Problem solved.
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I hate you.
PC RETARD HALL OF FAME
The watermelon
Bump.
Character Sheet
Name: Lunn Windrider
Age: Ummm, had serums at about 30, actualy 62
Ethnicity/Origins: Mixed Caucasion/Torvaldslander
Date Oath Given: 1 December, 2005
Physical Description: 6' 3 horts, 59 stone, dark hair and eyes, medium, weather worn complection. Piercing eyes and manner of a hunter and warrior. Should you see me unclothed, I have scaring of all manner from just below my neck to about my wrists and ankles all over my body. There is really, almost not one square hort left unmared in some way. My hands also bear many blade and such scars from combat. Most prominant is 20 snake whip scars cutting across my back and thighs, a kur bite on the front and back of my left shoudler, and now a shark bite to the inside of my right forearm in a double half moon top and bottom of the arm.
Primary Occupation: Hunter, Furrier, Warrior,
Brief History: I grew up in a tribe that lived along the edge of the forests North and West of Ko-ro-ba. I had a normal childhood and was trained in sword, spear and bow. At a young age I showed an aptitude for tarns and begain learning to ride them. Later as a young tarnsman I fought to defend my home and such until the day that the forces of Ko-ro-ba attacked. After a pitched battle, we were overwhelmed and all but a handfull of men survived, I was one. I was knocked from my tarn close to the ground and the fall knocked me out. Maybe 30-40 women and girls were left alive and enslaved.
I was taken to Ko-ro-ba and held captive for more than a year before being basicaly conscripted into the tarn forces. After a 7 year service there I rose to command a vicious unit of assault troops. During that time I was formally trained and accepted into the scarlet caste of warriors and have the right to wear the tunic. Once the end of my service I left and wandered Gor until I found my way to the Isle and found a home again.
Basic Knowlodge
Marauders of Gor: read several times since arriving on the Isle.
Lore Class: Read the page.
Medical Class: Notified I passed on 6/24/06
Slave and Training: Yep
Laws of Scagnar: Yep
Combat Rules: Yep
Raiding Rules: Yep
FW of SI Rules: Yep
Torvald Geography: Yep, know about this and have reviewed the maps and such. Again, no class since I arrived.
Basic OC Course: Nope, but have been through many of them.
Escape & Evasion Course: Have taught it many many times.
Warrior Assessment: Currently ranked as spearman in the Crimson Spear League and moving up well.
Mentorship: Nope, not really, would have been helpful in some spots.
Final Orientation Test: Notified I passed 6/30/06
Discipline
We have some very unique ways of disciplining unruly slaves. A slave who misbehaves is crying for attention, and even bad attention is attention to some. We frown upon such dramatics. We are not here to please YOU. The slave is here to please the Frees. Remember that. If you cannot deal with that, then Scagnar and Gor is not for you.
Hurled naked among the thralls
“Sometimes,” said he, “to discipline a bond-maid, she is hurled naked among the thralls.” He smiles. “Do not fear. Should this be done to you I, in my turn shall use you well, Bond-maid. Quite well.” (pg 89)
Lashed to the oar
“Put her to the oar.” had said the Forkbeard. Hilda, clothed, had been roped, hand and foot, and body, on her back, head down, to one of the nineteen-foot oars. “you cannot do this to me.” She cried. Then, to her misery, she felt the oar move. “I am a free woman!” she cried. Then, like any bond-maid, she found herself plunged beneath the cold green surface of the Thassa. The oar lifted. “I am the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar!” she cried, spitting water, half blinded. Then the oar dipped again. When it pulled her next from the water, she was clearly terrified. She had swallowed water. She had learned what any bond-maid swiftly learns, that one must apply oneself, and be rational, if one will survive on the oar. One must follow its rhythm, and, as soon as the surface is broken, expel air and take a deep breath. In this fashion, a girl may live on the oar. Page 124.
Whipped
Note: Hilda has been stripped first. Then he said to the bond-maids.
“Take her to the whipping post.” The bond-maids, laughing, dragged Hilda to the post, stout, of peeled wood, which stood outside the hall. Ottar then, with a scrap of binding fiber, crossed and rudely bound, before her body, the wrists of the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar; he then, reaching up, fastened her wrists to the heavy iron ring over her head. Her breasts were against the post; she could not place her heels on the ground. “How dare you place me in this position, Ivar Forkbeard!” she demanded. “I am a free woman!” “Bring the five-strap slave slash.” Said Ivar Forkbeard to Gunnhild. Page 126
NOTE: At this point, Ivar himself whips Hilda. Her hair is first placed over her shoulder, baring her back.
The first stroke threw her against the post; I saw the astonishment in her eyes, then the pain; the daughter of Thorgard seemed stunned; then she howled in misery; it was only then that she realized what the whip might do to a girl. “I will obey you!” she screamed. “I will obey you!” Ivar Forkbeard, experienced in the disciplining of women, did not deliver the second stroke for a full Ehn. In this time she screamed, over and over “I will obey you!”. Then he struck again. Her body, again, was struck against the post; her hands twisted in the binding fiber; her entire body rubbed on the post, in agony, pressing against it; tears burst from her eyes; she was on her tiptoes, pressing against the post; her thighs were on either side of the post; but the post did not yield; she was fastened to it......(she gets 20 strokes, considered quite light)...The beating had been, though light, quite adequate to its purpose, which was to teach her, a captive, the whip. No female forgets it. Page 127 and 128.
Tied over an ice block in the ice shed
NOTE: Hilda would not willingly beg to come to Ivar’s furs.
“Ottar, Gorm,” said the Forkbeard, “Take her to the ice shed. Leave her there, bound hand and foot.” Page 131
NOTE: Hilda stays there for more than two Ahn. Here is her condition.....
She lay on her side, in misery, across great blocks of ice; she could lift her head and shoulders no more than six inches from the ice; she could draw her ankles toward her body no more than six inches; small chips of wood, in which the ice is packed, clung about her body; she was bound, hand and foot, her wrists behind her, her ankles crossed and tied. Two ropes prohibited her from struggling to either a sitting or kneeling position, one running from her right ankle across the ice to a ring in the side of the shed, the other running from her throat across the ice to a similar ring on the other side of the shed. “Please,” she wept. Her teeth chattered; her lips were blue. She lay before us, on her back. “Please,” she wept piteously, “I beg to be permitted to run tot he furs of Ivar Forkbeard.” Page 132.
Lashed to the main mast
“She was naked, except for the Torvaldsland collar of black iron on her neck, with its projecting ring....riveted collar of black iron, with the projecting ring, so useful for running a chain through, or for padlocking, or linking on an anvil, with a chain. The southern collar, commonly, lacks such a ring....”Marauders of Gor pg 166
Branding
Branding is the first thing a Torvaldslander will do to a bond-maid. Collaring is next. The Torvaldsland brand is a half circle with a slash through it, described in more detail below.
“She, moaning, was seized by a fellow and thrown on her belly over the peeled log. Two men held her upper arms; two others her upper legs. A fifth man, with a heavy, leather glove, drew forth one of the irons from the fire; the air about its tip shuddered with the heat. “Please, my Jarl,” she cried, “do not mark your girl!” At a sign from the Forkbeard, the iron was pressed deeply into her flesh, and held there, smoking for five Ihn. It was only when it was pulled away that she screamed. Her eyes had been shut, her teeth gritted. She had tried not to scream. She had dared to pit her will against the iron. But when the iron had been pulled back, from deep within her flesh, smoking, she, her pride gone, her will shattered, had screamed with pain, long and miserably, revealing herself as only another branded girl.” Marauders of Gor pg 86.
“The brand used by Forkbeard, found rather frequently in the north, consisted of a half circle, with at its right tip, adjoining it, a steep, diagonal line. The half circle is about an inch and a quarter in width, and the diagonal line about an inch and a quarter in height. The brand is, like many, symbolic. In the north, the bond-maid is sometimes referred to as a woman whose belly lies beneath the sword.” Marauders of Gor pg 87
Last edited by Drew; 03-29-2012 at 01:25 AM.
(wrathbringer78) I think that's it. Viril is one big obnoxious ambient script.
Senior Member
Great bump with material included. I skimmed so much of this on those magical days. Here's a pretty awesome part:
I like how Gor has its own unit of time, and that the unit of time is used as a proper noun. It's the small details that make your snuff-porn fantasy worlds really come alive.At a sign from the Forkbeard, the iron was pressed deeply into her flesh, and held there, smoking for five Ihn.
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