Blog Schedule and Contributions

 (edited June 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:

A Talendar for Shirley (8) Conclusion by Peony D Beckside

Scipio Metellus (8) The Fate of Nicola VanRijn

The Paga Diaries (44) by Arizona Wanderer

A Talendar for Shirley (7) by Peony D Beckside

Tales of Drysdale House (17) by Tracker, Pulled Back In (4)

A Talendar for Shirley (6) by Peony D Beckside

A Talendar for Shirley (5) by Peony D Beckside

Tales of Drysdale House (16) by Tracker, Pulled Back In (3)

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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.