TRADITIONS (TATTOO'S, GREETINGS, DJINN, ETC.)

Greetings

"I extended my hand to Ibn Saran and he, bowing twice, brushed twice the palm of his hand against mine. 'May you always have water, may your water bags never be empty.' " ~Tribesmen of Gor

"Tal, Master,' they said to me. 'Tal, Slave Girls,' I said to them."~Tribesmen of Gor

"The girls stood straight, proud under the gaze of a warrior. `Tal, Master,' said many of them, as I rode slowly by." ~Tribesmen of Gor

"Men lifted their cups to Samos as we reentered the hall. We acknowledged their greetings." ~Tribesmen of Gor

"I saw the kaiila. It was my own. It was saddled: water bags were at its flanks; a scimitar sheath, with weapon, on straps, hung at a saddle ring on the right. I checked the girth straps, the kaiila rein. They were in order. I hoped that the beast had not been drugged. I lifted my hand near its eye; it blinked, even to the third lid, the transparent lid; very lightly I touched its flank; the skin shook, twitching, beneath the finger.

"What are you doing?" asked Ibn Saran.

"I am greeting my kaiila," I said." ~Tribesmen of Gor

"We have water," said the merchant, greeting the bandit. ~Tribesmen of Gor

Brotherhood

"Ride Free," he said.
"I will," I said.
"I can teach you nothing more," he said.
I was silent.
"Let there be salt between us," he said.
"Let there be salt between us," I said.
He placed salt from the small dish on the back of his right wrist. He looked at me. His eyes were narrow.
"I trust," said he, "you have not made jest of me."
"No," I said.
"In your hand," he said, "steel is live, like a bird."
The judge nodded assent. The boy's eyes shone. He stood back.
"I have never seen this, to this extent, in another man." He looked at me. "Who are you?" he asked.
I placed salt on the back of my right wrist. "One who shares salt with you," I said.
"It is enough," he said.
I touched my tongue to the salt in the sweat of his right wrist, and he touched his tongue to the salt on my right wrist.
"We have shared salt," he said. ~Tribesmen of Gor

"The beast turned away from me and bent his head over his cupped hands. When he again turned to face me I saw, in the black cup of his paws, a foul fluid. I thrust my face to his hands, and, my own hands trembling, holding his cupped hands, drank. Four times did the beast do this. It was water from the last large water hold we had visited, where the half-eaten tabuk had been found, held for days in the beast's storage stomach. It was water, in a sense, from his own tissues he gave me, releasing it now, not into his own system, but yielding it to me, that I might not die. Again did the beast try to give me water, but then there was none left. He had given me the last of his water. Now again, from his mouth and lips, and body, he scraped salt. He took it, too, from the bloody crusts of his wounds. I took it, with the sand, licking at it, now able to swallow it. He had given me; it seemed an inexplicable gift, water and salt from his own body." ~Tribesmen of Gor

Tattoos

"The captain looked at me. “Sleeve,” he said. I thrust back the sleeve of my shirt, revealing my left forearm. It did not bear the blue scimitar, tattooed on the forearm of a Kavar boy at puberty."~Tribesmen of Gor

"Originally her head had been shaved, and the message tattooed into the scalp. Then, over months, her hair had been permitted to regrow. None but the girl would know she carried such a message, and she would not know what it might be." ~Tribesmen of Gor

Games - Zar

"He retired to the canopy beneath which, with water, he sat, cross-legged, with his companion. Between them they had, in the crusts, scratched a board for Zar. This resembles the Kaissa board. Pieces, however, may he placed only on the intersections of lines either within or at the edges of the board. Each player has nine pieces of equal value which are originally placed on the intersections of the nine interior vertical lines with what would be the rear horizontal line, constituted by the back edge of the board, from each player's point of view. The corners are not used in the original placement, though they constitute legitimate move points after play begins. The pieces are commonly pebbles, or bits of verr dung, and sticks. The "pebbles" move first. Pieces move one intersection at a time, unless jumping. One may jump either the opponent's pieces or one's own. A jump must be made to an unoccupied point. Multiple jumps are permissible. The object is to effect a complete exchange of original placements. The first player to fully occupy the opponent's initial position wins. Capturing, of course, does not occur. The game is one of strategy and maneuverability." ~Tribesmen of Gor

Songs

"Her fingers touched the six strings, a note at a time, and then a melody, of the caravans of Tor, a song of love." ~Assassin of Gor

"He performs what is spoken of sometimes as the whip song, though it is not a song, but rather a series of calls or announcements. These summon other girls to witness one of their sisters on the way to discipline. "Here is a girl who has not been fully pleasing," cries the man. "Look upon her. She is going to discipline. She was not completely pleasing. See her! Come, witness a girl who has not been fully pleasing!" ~Tribesmen of Gor

Story

"If it pleases you, noble Ibn Saran," said Samos, "would you speak before my friend what heard you in Kasra."

"It is a story told by a boy, a tender of kaiila. His caravan was small. It was struck by storm, and a kaiila, maddened by wind and sand, broke its hobble, plunging away into the darkness. Foolishly the boy followed it. It bore water. In the morning the storm had passed. The boy dug a shelter trench. In the camp was organized the wheel." ~Tribesmen of Gor

Djinn

"What could have done this horrible thing?" asked one of his men.

"I was warned of this," said Ibn Saran.

"A Djinn?" asked one of the men.

"Smell it?" said Ibn Saran. "Smell it! It is still here!"

I heard the Kur breathing, near me.

"Block the door!" said Ibn Saran.

The two men by the door, who had been standing there, looked about themselves, brandishing their scimitars, frightened.

"Do not fear, my fellows," said Ibn Saran. "This is not a Djinn. It is a creature of flesh and blood. But be wary! Be wary!" He then formed his men into a line, against the far wall of the outer room, that into which the threshold gave access. "I had warning of this possibility," he said. "It has now occurred. Do not fear. It can be met." ~Tribesmen of Gor

Gifts

"That night, when our repast had been finished, and a clothed, bangled slave woman, the property of Farouk, had rinsed our right hands with verminium water, poured over our hand, into a small, swallow bowl of beaten copper, I drew forth from my robes a small, flat, closed Gorean chronometer. It was squarish. I placed it in the hands of the boy, Achmed. He opened it. He observed the tiny hands, moving. There are twenty hours, or Ahn, in the Gorean day. The hands of the Gorean chronometers do not move as the hands of the clocks of the Earth. They turn in the opposite direction. In that sense, they move counter clockwise. This chronometer, tooled in Ar, was a fine one, sturdy, exact. It contained, too, a sweeping Ihn hand, with which the tiny Ihn could be measured. The boy watched the hands. Such instruments were rare in the Tahari region. He looked at me. "It is yours," I told him. "it is a gift," The boy placed the chronometer in the hand of his father, offering it to him. Farouk, merchant of Kasra, smiled. The boy then, carrying the chronometer took it about the circle of the small fire, on the sand of the tent; before each of his kinsmen, he stopped; into the hands of each, he placed the chronometer. "I give you this." he said. Each looked at the chronometer. Then each handed it back to the boy. The boy returned and sat next to me. He looked at his father. "You will tell the time," said Farouk of Kasra, "by the speed of your kaiila, by the circle and the stick, by the sun." ~Tribesmen of Gor

Weapons

"I knew the light lance, and the swift, silken kaiila. I had learned these with the Wagon Peoples. But I did not know the scimitar. The short sword, now slung over my left shoulder, in the common fashion, would be of little use on kaiila back. The men of the Tahari do not fight on foot. A man on foot in the desert, in warfare, is accounted a dead man." ~Tribesmen of Gor

"Instantly was his scimitar unsheathed, the reflex of a desert warrior. He did not look upon the gruesome sight which lay upon the stones at his feet. Rather did he, with one lightning glance, examine the room."~Tribesmen of Gor

"I observed the scimitar. It was a wickedly curved blade. On such a blade, I knew, silk dropped, should the blade be moved, would fall parted to the floor. Even a light stroke of such a blade, falling across an arm, would drop through the flesh, leaving its incised record, a quarter of an inch deep, in the bone beneath."~Tribesmen of Gor

""Kavars supreme!" I heard. I rushed to the window and my scimitar thrust through and the figure, in burnoose, screamed, clutched at the side of the window, and fell back, bloodied, into the darkness. I reached to close the shutters. Two arrows struck the wood, splintering needles of wood into my cheek: then the shutters were pulled closed, fastened: another arrow burst half through one, hanging on our side. The inn boy stood by the sand clock, looking wildly about."~Tribesmen of Gor

"We spun about. We heard the tiny noise. We looked up. We stood within a ring of mounted warriors, with purple and yellow burnooses, others behind them in more common desert garb. Lances threatened us, pinning us at the wall. Arrows, fitted to bows, were trained upon our hearts." ~Tribesmen of Gor

"I saw sleeve daggers. I brushed a mat salesman away." ~Tribesmen of Gor

"I saw Hamid, who was the lieutenant of Shakar, captain of the Aretai, slip swiftly behind hangings, a dagger, bloodied, held within his cloak." ~Tribesmen of Gor

Philosophy

"I felt exhilarated. Gone from my mind suddenly were the brooding on realities and truths that might not be disclosed to men. It is enough to know they exist. One need not stand forever, one's face pressed against a wall that may not be penetrated. One must turn one's back in time upon the impenetrable wall, One must laugh, and cry out, and be a man. Man can think; he must act. In the midst of impenetrable mysteries, not caring for him, beyond him, he behaves, he chooses, he acts. Wisdom decrees that the tree of thought must not be planted where it cannot bear fruit. A man may starve trying to feed on the illusion of nourishment. There are realities, truths, which lie open to man. These are those of his species, of his kind of being, of his realm of animal. To know these truths he needs little more than his brain, his blood, his eyes and hands. He listens overmuch to what does not speak to him, to what cannot speak to him. Within the boundaries of his own being, in that bright realm, let him claim the supremacy which is his; it will remain vacant, unless he seize upon it. It is his; he may take it or not. The choice is up to him. All else is the night and darkness. Music he will make among the stones and silence. He will sing for his own ears; the justification is himself and the song. To what must he be true, if not himself? To what else should he be true? He is born a hunter. Let him not forget the taste of meat." ~Tribesmen of Gor

"We know little about men, too, I thought. We do know they will seek the truth. I do not know if they can see it. Perhaps if they touched it, they would die, burning in its flames. Perhaps we cannot see truth. Perhaps nature has denied us this gift. Perhaps we can sense only its presence. Perhaps we can sense only its heat. Perhaps to stand occasionally in its presence is sufficient."~Tribesmen of Gor

Sayings

"May your water bags never be empty May you always have water"

"May your eye be keen, your steel swift"

"More real than the law, is the heart"

"The desert is my mother and my father"

Sharing of Water

Whether taken or given makes one a guest and extends to them guest rights.

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