Post by pup on Jun 13, 2006 12:06:46 GMT -5
. . . lastly, they should make greater appeal to women than they do, for, in most Gorean cities, women, of one sort or another, care for and instruct the children in the crucial first years. That would be the time to imprint them, while innocent and trusting, at the mother’s or nurse’s knee, with superstitions which might, in simpler brains, subtly control then the length of their lives. So simple an adjustment as the promise of eternal life to women who behaved in accordance with their teachings, instructing the young and so on, might have much effect. But the initiates, like many Gorean castes, were tradition bound.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 30
I looked into the hungry eyes of a child, clinging in a sack to its mother’s back. She kept nodding her head in prayer.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 33
When the war arrow is carried, of course, all free men are to respond; in such a case 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 Book 9 Page 142
. . . the tiny, six-toed rock tharlarion of southern Torvaldsland, favored for their legs and tails, which are speared by children.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 152
It seemed first a ghastly infection, a plague; then it seemed like a fire, invisible and consuming; then it seemed like the touching of these men by the hands of gods, but no gods I knew, none to whom a woman or child might dare pray, but the gods of men, and of the men of Torvaldsland, the dread, harsh divinities of the cruel north, the gods of Torvaldsland.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 247
Towards the front of the temple, behind the rail, and even at the two doors of the temple, by the great beams which closed them, stood the men of Forkbeard. Many of them were giants, huge men, inured to cold, accustomed to war and the labor of the oar, raised from boyhood on steep, isolated farms near the sea, grown strong and hard on work and meat and cereals. Such men, from boyhood in harsh games had learned to run, to leap, to swim, to throw the spear, to wield the sword, to wield the ax, to stand against steel, even bloodied, unflinching. Such men, these, would be the hardest of the hard, for only the largest, the swiftest and finest might win for themselves a bench on the ship of a captain, and the man great enough to command such as they must be first and mightiest among them, for the men of Torvaldsland will obey no other and that man had been Ivar Forkbeard. Marauders of Gor, page 38
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 30
I looked into the hungry eyes of a child, clinging in a sack to its mother’s back. She kept nodding her head in prayer.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 33
When the war arrow is carried, of course, all free men are to respond; in such a case 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 Book 9 Page 142
. . . the tiny, six-toed rock tharlarion of southern Torvaldsland, favored for their legs and tails, which are speared by children.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 152
It seemed first a ghastly infection, a plague; then it seemed like a fire, invisible and consuming; then it seemed like the touching of these men by the hands of gods, but no gods I knew, none to whom a woman or child might dare pray, but the gods of men, and of the men of Torvaldsland, the dread, harsh divinities of the cruel north, the gods of Torvaldsland.
Marauders of Gor Book 9 Page 247
Towards the front of the temple, behind the rail, and even at the two doors of the temple, by the great beams which closed them, stood the men of Forkbeard. Many of them were giants, huge men, inured to cold, accustomed to war and the labor of the oar, raised from boyhood on steep, isolated farms near the sea, grown strong and hard on work and meat and cereals. Such men, from boyhood in harsh games had learned to run, to leap, to swim, to throw the spear, to wield the sword, to wield the ax, to stand against steel, even bloodied, unflinching. Such men, these, would be the hardest of the hard, for only the largest, the swiftest and finest might win for themselves a bench on the ship of a captain, and the man great enough to command such as they must be first and mightiest among them, for the men of Torvaldsland will obey no other and that man had been Ivar Forkbeard. Marauders of Gor, page 38