Blog Schedule and Contributions

 (edited October 5th, 2026)

.Stories tie back to Stories on EmmaOfGor.Blogspot.com in particular Steel Worlds Inc by Emma of Gor and Banks of the Bighorn by Tracker, and The Paga Diaries by Arizona Wanderer. The titles in this post link to the stories

Recent Posts:

The Paga Diaries (53) by Arizona Wanderer

Zork (9) by Peony D Beckside

Zork (8) by Peony D Beckside

Zork (7) by Peony D Beckside

Anthopologist of Gor Book 1 Preparations (5)

The Paga Diaries (52) by Arizona Wanderer

Zork (6) by Peony D Beckside

Zork (5) by Peony D Beckside

The Paga Diaries by Arizona Wanderer

Anthropologist of Gor Book 1 Preparations (4) by Tracker

The Dancing Kajira (Vignette) by Tracker

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The Paga Diaries (53) by Arizona Wanderer

 53. New Routines

I finally had an opportunity to go to the city guardhouse. Mirus did not accompany me to the lumberyard this morning and after a boring day of wood chiseling, the afternoon was mine.  Atticus took me into a room and told me to wait, that Niketas would be coming soon.  The room was different than the interrogation rooms I had been in, but this still felt as if I was being kept, secured for the moment.  I was tempted to test the door, to see if it was locked, but I didn’t, deciding it didn’t matter at the moment.  It was at least an ahn before Atticus returned with Niketas.

Zork (9) by Peony D Beckside

 

Zork
Peony D Beckside

In appreciation of, and with thanks to John Norman for creating the wonderful world of Gor, in which this story is set.

Illustrations by Arizona Wanderer

  

Chapter Nine: The Fork In The Road

 

Narrative of Grunthon

 

Half a day north of Jorts Ferry the track forks.  Cadmus speaks.

“Tharna or Ko-Ro-Ba?  Any preference, Zork, Grunthon, Clystemous?”

Zork comments.

“I trust you Cadmus to find the best route.”

What is he talking about!?  Ko-Ro-Ba was destroyed by the Priest Kings.  ‘No stone may stand on another, No two persons of Ko-Ro-Ba may stand next to one another’.  That is what the Initiate had said when he passed on the news of the city’s doom.  I had loved the city, the place of my upbringing.  I had been granted the honour if kissing the Home-Stone, thus confirming my allegiance to the city.  Even though the Caste of Metal-Workers is not one of the high castes, I had served in one of the city’s Militia, having made my own weapons.  I had left in tears having no clue as to where I would go, what I would do.

Zork (8) by Peony D Beckside.

 

Zork

Peony D Beckside

 

In appreciation of, and with thanks to John Norman for creating the wonderful world of Gor, in which this story is set.
Illustration by Arizona Wanderer

 

Chapter Eight: A Boat Of Our Own

 

Zork (7) by Peony D Beckside

 Zork

Peony D Beckside
Images by Arizona Wanderer

 

In appreciation of, and with thanks to John Norman for creating the wonderful world of Gor, in which this story is set.

Chapter Seven: Torcadino

 

With luck we may arrive at Torcadino tomorrow.  Cadmus worries about how to explain me, how to get the men of Torcadino to let us into the city.  He tells me that we are in need of supplies.  We are.  This close to such a major city, game is scarce.  There are villages where I might take an animal to eat, but the word would soon get around that there’s a great beast, me, loose in Torcadino’s heartland.  We could circle the city, but again there’s the issue of supplies.

Anthropologist of Gor Book 1 Preparations (5)

 Diary of Dr Claudia Skimmerhorn, Head of Anthropology at Queens College City University of New York

Saturday Morning, Jan 7, 2017.

I got home very early this morning, before seven o’clock. I wanted to be home before Clara woke up, but as I write this, after showering and breakfasting, she is still sleeping like the teenager she is. When I got home to our pre-war apartment that I had inherited from my grandmother was neither trashed nor suspiciously clean. I took that to mean that Clara had not had a wild party even though I had been out all night. Because her boyfriend, Tyrone O’Neill was back at boarding school, I assumed that she had stayed away from most risky behaviors. She is very much in love with that boy who I know will break her heart. He has that ‘good guy’ affect which means he is either a sociopath, or worse, a genuinely nice young man for whom she will do foolish things and in the end disappoint her. Most men are disappointments to women in the end; usually because we expect too much of them.

The Paga Diaries (52) by Arizona Wanderer

 52.  Melancholia

I spent a sleepless night in Mirus’s guest room, alone with my questioning thoughts.  I have to admit to myself that I am in the grips of melancholy, not being able to shake from my thoughts the current position I am in.  I missed Mena.  It was hard for me to accept that she was gone.  I spent a lot of time thinking about her.  Had she been stolen, or had she escaped?  Was she complicit in the theft?  Did the thieves find nothing to take and left her there alone, where she decided to take the gems they did not find and make it look like they had?  Did she then take the gemstones and gold for herself, leaving the room on her own thinking that the wealth would secure her freedom?  How would a slave that possessed gold make herself free?  Would she obtain robes of concealment to cover her brand and collar, and then use the money to pose as a Free Woman?  She had friends when she was free, would those friends help her now that she was a slave?

Zork (6) by Peony D Beckside

 

Zork

Peony D Beckside

Images by Arizona Wanderer
 
In appreciation of, and with thanks to John Norman for creating the wonderful world of Gor, in which this story is set.

 

 

Chapter Six: The Ferry

 

The female puny one that Cadmus calls Kiki is no longer afraid of me.  Sure I can make her afraid again, but that will make her less efficient in keeping Cadmus and Grunthon happy.  Yes, she would make a lovely meal, but she is the property of Cadmus.  Whilst the concept of ‘ownership’ is different for us, there is dishonour in destroying something that belongs to another unless one is provoking that Kur.

Zork (5) by Peony D Beckside

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

The Paga Diaries (51) by Arizona Wanderer

 51. Theft

I met with Atticus after a morning of training with the guardsmen.  I was exhausted after another long grueling session of using the shield and learning to move as a group in a shield wall, pushing against an opposing group of men.  The opposing group did not have shields, and all of us took turns being in the opposing group, simulating an angry aggressive mob.  Once coordinated, the group with shields, stepping in sync, imposed their will on the opposing group, pushing them steadily back.  Atticus told me not all of my mornings would be drilling and sparring; that I would soon be assigned to a squad and assist with foot patrols in the city.

Recommendations

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Anthropologist of Gor, Book 1 Preparations (4)

 

Diary of Dr Claudia Skimmerhorn, Head of Anthropology at Queens College City University of New York
Thursday, Jan 5, 2017.

(for earlier chapters in this story, click the label link Anthropologists of Gor at the bottom of the post)

Antichthon

Oliver and I are waiting in my office for the Zoom call for the final decision on our grant to travel to Gor. I had never been in contact with the Remote Anthropology Foundation before last year when I began research to find funding for a true scientific expedition to Gor. I had heard of them for years of course, a shadowy group that funded expeditions to remote areas, but I had never expected to be needing their funding. Once Oliver and I found Dr John Norman’s language tapes and his method of going to the Antichthon, the planet on the other side of the sun first posited by Aristotle, things changed. Now our proposal, mine really with Oliver tagging along and helping, to actually go to the mysterious planet is before their board.

            I don’t really trust this new communications method of remote meeting, but technological advance on Earth is relentless and unrestrained, and all of us must accept it or fall behind. How different it was on that other planet when I made my solo exploratory ‘proof of concept’ trip. There people of all ranks and castes would stop to gaze at a sunset, watch some birds swoop and dip in the air, exclaim over a lovely bit of carving. Now Oliver and I wait, anxiously, for the meeting to begin.

The Dancing Kajira (Vignette) by Tracker.

 The Dancing Kajira.

Inspired by the Post: The Dancing Kajira by CollaredLove on Deviant Art.

https://www.deviantart.com/collaredlove/art/Dancing-Kajira-1372444799

Zork (4) by Peony D Beckside

 

Zork

Peony D Beckside

 In appreciation of, and with thanks to John Norman for creating the wonderful world of Gor, in which this story is set

Illustrations for this chapter courtesy of Arizona Wanderer

Chapter Four: The Forge

 

The village is deserted.  Some of the habitations show signs of recently being on fire.  There are bodies lying on the ground.

The Paga Diaries (50) by Arizona Traveller

 50.  A Breath of Fresh Air.

It was great to be on the back of a tarn again, though the flight from the tower to the large estate farm outside of the city is short.  Once he had flown our tarn past the city walls Trem changed his usual course and flew low, along the river, following it until we reached the section of the farm where the dung was delivered.   I had never been with him on this route, as it was not the most direct.  We saw a barge tied to a dock on the bank of the estate and there were a dozen men unloading wooden timbers that had been fashioned into some sort of component, perhaps parts or pieces of a larger structure.  They looked familiar, and reminded me of the timbers I had worked on as a sawyer in the lumberyard.

Zork (3) by Peony D Beckside.

 Zork

Peony D Beckside

 

In appreciation of, and with thanks to John Norman for creating the wonderful world of Gor, in which this story is set.

Chapter Three: A Travelling Companion.

 

Map by Marcus of Gor

Zork (1 and 2) by Peony D Beckside

 

Zork
Peony D Beckside

 

In appreciation of, and with thanks to John Norman for creating the wonderful world of Gor, in which this story is set.

 

Chapter One: Introduction

 

(Cover illustration from Marauders of Gor, Tarl Cabot encounters a Kur)

My name is Zork.  I am what you puny ones call a Kur, Kurii in plural.  Actually my name is longer than that, and much more meaningful.  You puny ones however cannot pronounce my full name, your vocal cords and lineaments of your mouths make it impossible.  Zork then will have to do.

The Paga Diaries (49) by Arizona Wanderer

 49. Ubar’s Paga

I stepped into a tavern before going home to Mena.  Niketas hadn’t said that I couldn’t go to taverns, just that I couldn’t go yesterday on my way home from the jail.  The tavern was dark and the patrons were subdued, speaking to each other in low voices and whispers.  Many of them stopped speaking as I walked through the door, looking at me as I sought a place to have paga.  I did not see any paga slaves and I went to the paga attendant at the bar.  There was a tense energy in this tavern and I decided to leave and go to another.

The walk to Tickling Curlies wasn’t far and I decided to get a drink in its tavern since it was close.  This was my second time in the paga section of the large manor and the patrons here seemed subdued as well.  I sat on a floor cushion at an empty low table and immediately a large bosomed brunette paga slave kneIt next to me to take my order.  Four men at a table next to mine had stopped talking when I sat down.  After I ordered and received my paga, they began to speak again. I wondered how many of the patrons here were also staying in rented rooms like me.  I wondered if high quality taverns like this one, which offered nice rooms, had a high ratio of guests who were not residents of the city.

Anthropologist of Gor, Book 1, Preparations (3)

 

Extracts from a letter from Chloe Chegwidden to her sister Caroline.
4^th January 2017.

Dear Caroline,

How surprised you will be to receive a handwritten letter from me., particularly since I am such a terrible correspondent even with email!  You will never guess where I am! I am in the San Francisco Airport, waiting for my British Airways flight back to London. What am I doing in San Francisco, you ask? Well it had to do with Mother and her always asking when I am going to get married and do I have a boyfriend yet.[i]

The Paga Diaries (48) by Arizona Wanderer.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Nocturnal Journeys (A Hide in Plain Sight Story)

 Nocturnal Journeys
Peony D. Beckside

Anthropologist of Gor, Book 1, The Preparations (2)

 

Diary of Dr Claudia Skimmerhorn, Head of Anthropology at Queens College City University of New York

Wednesday, Jan 4, 2017.

I am waiting in my office for a call from the Remote Anthropology Foundation regarding my proposal for a year long Expedition to Gor. The Foundation is small but has money to give away. Or rather they can have access to money for special projects for dangerous expeditions to remote places that other, more standard groups won’t touch. Even more importantly, they can arrange permissions and insurance in a way that no one else can. They arranged Michael Rockefeller’s New Guinea trip in 1961 for example[i].

The Paga Diaries (47) by Arizona Wandereer

 47. Cellmate

The gruel was difficult to eat.  It was a cold paste, flavorless, with no texture.  There was nothing to chew, yet it was not easy to swallow.  It reminded me of plain oatmeal  that needed more water.  The slave gruel that I bought for Mena on the street had tasted better than this.  Last night alone in the cell seemed to never end.  I was anxious and could not sleep.  Getting gruel this morning brought back the myriad of thoughts that went through my mind the night before.  Had I been given slave gruel and was I now a slave?  Was it better to be a slave than a prisoner?  Would I be condemned to the horrible fate of public impalement?  Should I attempt to take my life and avoid such horror and humiliation?  How long would I be in this cell?  I was hungry and should acquire any energy I could get.  I forced myself to eat the gruel, but I did not lick the bowl clean.  I am not a slave.

Attar of Talendar

 Attar[1] Of Talendar

Peony D. Beckside

 

I watch the man.  I sip at the container of ‘Black wine’ in my hand, though here it is called coffee, or alternatively Café, this place having two main languages.  This is poor stuff compared to the fine brews of Thentis grown beans.

The Slave Viki Chronicles

 A while ago, I wondered if anyone among the readers was interested in writing some adventures of Slave Viki, from On the Banks of the Bighorn. Some people wondered what was known of Viki. So here is the collected Chronicles of Slave Viki.

She is an interesting Character, but I have no time to write of her adventures, either on Gor as an agent of the Kur, or on Earth, working for General Security and Central Information.

The Slave Viki Chronicles, being the appearances of Slave Viki, from her life as an agent of the Kur to her life as a Gorean Slave on Earth, told in excerpts from Banks of the Bighorn.

Banks of the Bighorn Chapter 4

 

The Ticking Time-Bomb

Peony D. Beckside

 

Thanks to Vyeh for putting the idea forward and for giving me the inspiration to write this story.

 

It sits there, on the coffee-table in my sitting room.  It has the menace of a hand-grenade with the pin pulled out.  Not for what it is, but for what it represents.  It is a simple envelope, plain, no name, no address, no postage stamp, no postmark.

Anthropologist of Gor, Book 1, The Preparations (1)

 (The Introduction to Anthropologist of Gor was posted last December and can be found here: Anthropologist of Gor Intro) For reasons of the chronology of Chapter 2, Claudia’s age is now fifty instead of forty-five.

January 1, 2017. New Years Day. Private Gor Expedition Diary of Claudia Skimmerhorn, Professor of Anthrology at Queens College, City University of New York and Head of the Anthropology Dept.

The Paga Diaries (46) by Arizona Wanderer

 46. Interrogation.

 

Just Because You Are Paranoid Doesn’t Mean They Aren’t Out To Get You

Peony D Beckside

Marcie was right!  I thought her hopelessly paranoid, totally delusional, but she was not.  I in my arrogance and distrustful stupidity didn’t believe her warning.  What she’d tried to tell me was so outlandish, so ridiculous, so impossible that I could not even consider that it could be true.  I’d even scoffed, likening her fears to the 1930’s scares about ‘white-slavers’.

Tales of Drysdale House (18) Pulled Back In (5)

 This is a long one, I hope you like it. The theft of Juli has made Patrick introspective

Tale 18 A New Hope

Agamemnon

The day after Shipping Day, the day after my slave Juli had been stolen away from me, was the worst day of my life. Starting in the morning, Jerry Weiss and I had worked our connections with law enforcement trying to find out where Don Emery may have fled. We had no luck. Anders was still reporting from his hidden location near Don Emery’s house that there were still a large number of Emery family people at the location. Zach Frick and Joshua of the Acquisition Team looked through data on the General Information terminals to see if there was any trace of the tedk of Don Emery. There was not. They watched and rewatched the loading of the four Ships of the Steel Worlds that left North America on shipping day. There was no sign of Don Emery or Juli boarding for Gor. Woodrow Frick consulted people he knew in Britain. The Inner Party there had no records of Don Emery of Juli being in Britain.

The Paga Diaries (45)

 45.  Choices
I looked down at my naked collared kajira, her body shaking in fear, the five bladed leather whip offered to me in her outstretched hands.  The trembling of her breasts caught my attention.  I didn’t want to whip her; she had acted on impulse, thinking that she could save my life by destroying the dangerous scrolls.  But she had tricked me, creating a distraction and seizing its brief moment to toss the scrolls into the fire.  

The 'Hide in Plain Sight" Trap by Peony D Beckside

 The ‘Hide In Plain Sight’ Trap

Peony D Beckside

I have a friend, Teresa.  I haven’t seen her for a month or so.  She seems to have dropped out of sight.  I have the distinct feeling that I’ll never see her again.  It’s a question really of whether fiction is really fact, and whether I’m paranoid or not.

'Karira House'

 Kajira House

(With thanks to PJR961who suggested Kappa Epsilon Digamma)

At some Universities in the United States and Canada, female students who offer themselves for auction and service ( in all senses) at fraternity 'Ancient Times' banquets are asked to leave their sororities and transfer to Kappa Epsilon Digamma.

or KEF

Vignette: Saffron (Catherine Binnington) by Tracker

 

Catherine Saffron Binnington Vignette.

Excerpt from Chapter24 of Banks of the Bighorn.

Slave Juliette’s Narrative

The two cowboys who took me yesterday had planted an unpleasant thought in my head.  That I was not sexually responsive enough as a slave; that my reactions to being mastered were not intense enough; that I was failing and shaming Patrick.

I am finding it hard, even in a collar, with Patrick’s initial on my thigh, and traipsing around naked all the time to let go of my entire life since I can remember – being respectable, being contained, not over-reacting to sexual stimuli.

A Talendar for Shirley (9) by Peony D Beckside

A Talendar for Shirley

Peony D Beckside

With acknowledgement and thanks to John Norman for creating the world of Gor, in which this story is set. 

Chapter Nine: The Pastry Vendor’s Booth.

A Talander for Shirley (8) Penultimate Chapter

A Talendar for Shirley
Peony D Beckside
With acknowledgement and thanks to John Norman for creating the world of Gor, in which this story is set. 

Chapter Eight: Baggage Reclaim

 

I am beautiful!  Even I have to admit that despite my Earth-girl reserve.  I don’t know how this has come about.  It’s not just the make-up or the new hairstyle, it’s something much deeper in me, something revealed that I wasn’t aware was in me.  A realisation perhaps that I am, and can only be, one thing a woman.  A woman in the deeper sense than the restricted sense of mere femaleness that most women on Earth are kept in.

Scipio Metellus (8) The fate of Nicola Van Rijn

 Am I that kind of cruel author, who after setting up a cliff-haner with the stealing (not kidnapping, that is for free people) of Patrck's slave Juli, would made the readers wait another week for the resolution. 
Yes, I am. Tale 18, A New Hope will be posted next week.

Bonus: The fate of Nicola Van Rijn

A blonde slave knelt in front of Atticus of Ar of the Caste of Slavers. Clearly she had not been long on Gor; her Gorean was broken and halting. Outside the streets of Glorious Ar were as quiet as ever they got. It was night, the three moons were the only light, as it was so late that the lamps which dimly lit the streets were low. They had been turned down to save the use of unnecessary fuel. It was the hour of thieves and knives in the night. Men rolling home late from the taverns would be lucky to lose only their coins and retain their lives. Marlenus might be Ubar in the daylight, but under the moons, the only law was a strong arm and a sharp blade.

The Paga Diaries (44)

 44.  Scrolls

“What is the spirit of the bayonet?” the drill sergeant barked out loudly.

To KILL!” I yelled out in unison with the other recruits.

“What makes the grass grow?”

“Blood, Drill Sergeant!”

Lunge, parry, upstroke, butt stroke, slash, thrust!

I couldn’t get my bayonet to stick in the hard rubber of the tires that made up the target.

A Talendar for Shirley (7) by Peony D Beckside

 

A Talendar for Shirley

Peony D Beckside

With acknowledgement and thanks to John Norman for creating the world of Gor, in which this story is set.

 

 

Chapter Seven: Upskilling

 

Much of my time in training at the slave-house is standard stuff.  Master, when instructing me to write of my experiences and feelings since first meeting him, has redacted anything that he thinks is unoriginal; been written of before, by others.

Risking him reminding me about curiosity in kajirae, I had asked him...

“I will obey Master, but why do you wish me to write my story?”

I had hoped that in doing so, it might indicate the intended readership.  That could effect how I phrase things.

I chuckle at her question.

“It pleases me to add to the mythos on Earth about the Planet Gor, especially since whatever you write, if published, will only ever be seen as fiction, never as fact.  I will be adding my own version of events.  A ghostwriter on Earth will hopefully dovetail the two stories into one coherent whole. Write it from the beginning, from when you first saw me, and write it in the sense of ‘now’, i.e. that something is happening, that you are having this thought, rather than it having happened in the past or you thought it in the past.”