Chapter 1. Beyond the Endless Shadow
It soon began to rain in the Northern Forest. The rain drops were first heard in the trees, then the plant life all around. It was a pitter-pat of droplets falling onto foliage from the sky. The rain was light, as a faint breeze seemed to always saunter through at a slow pulsing speed. The clouds churned gray. Set wore a sand larl burnoose, and sea sleen boats that had padded through the brush of the forest. He took the boots off some poor fellow from the vosk delta a month ago. He traded all His belongings for a pouch of kanda, since He had spent all His coin a week prior on the same. They were new and snug. He had the three Friends with Him that He had sent to join Him in this new outpost. There was Sunder Aldaril, a short and fat blonde bearded scarlet from the Isle of Hunjer. His quick thinking during times in desperate need were key, as was His humor over a mead or a swing of a battle axe in a fight. There was Larrius Varro, another scarlet of Ko-ro-ba and deadly with a lance. Tall, thin, muscular, and quick on His feet. He was a true warrior, with long brown hair tucked beneath the "Y" slotted helm. Both these Men carried crude shields as they were not in the most need of one where They were. Last but not least there was Rissinia, the karian thief. As a Free Woman she relied on her intelligence, her cunning, and her wit. She carried a broad sword in her right, and was learning it fast. Behind the Three spread like tarn wings was Set the spice merchant. He was was a large round Man, but He was also amazingly fast on His feet if need be. He was dark in mahogany color, and mostly hidden in the tan furred burnoose. Gold teeth glistened in His mouth as He smiled, looking with black pupils to the edge of forest. "Let us return to camp, before I feel like killing Myself a forest girl for dinner." The three laughed at the irony of the statement that was made, being that Set had never killed anything during this stay so far, as much as He practiced archery in the swamp in the morning, and is known for slicing throats, He never returned with game. Maybe soon that would change. Camp was not far off, by the forests outer edge. It was built in a circle, tents of all kinds. There was drinks, there was food, and it was good to finally rest before entering the woods of the north...
It rained harder that following morning, following a chain of lighting and thunder to which Set had been awoken by. Like most nights He fell asleep sober, His dreams were vivid and frightening nightmares. He sat up in a cold sweat from the larl furs and calmed His breathing, trying to remember what the dream was about. All He could remember was the faces that seemed to hunger for His demise, the vosk delta looking people that seemed to give sardonic looks. Kurii surrounded Him after He was beaten and broken to remind Him what His failure would ensue. A life of extreme torture on a master ship bigger then the planet Gor that would go on for hundreds of years. Set rubbed the sleep from His face and looked at the ceiling of the tent for a long time before exiting the tent and surveying His encampment outpost at the Northern Forests most south west treeline. It was as if He sat in a vast cavern whose walls and roof were composed of gloomy, unstable colours which would occasionally break and admit rays of light from the rising central skies fire. The walls were shifty clouds massed above mountains to the south and Laurius River was hard to believe was to the north east, for all that the sunlight pierced them, stained them and revealed the black and green forest sluggishly looming about on which the treeline which the camp stood. Distant thunder rolled, far off lighting did flicker. The rain that fell became thin. And the clouds were never still. From the dusky jet black to deadly white they swirled slowly, like cloaks of Men and Women engaged in a trace-like minuet. The Forest seemed ancient, as Great big trees tossed faintly about themselves in the gusts of wind that soon calmed eventually. After the storm had passed, Set would gather his bearings and take head counts and begin any repairs if any damage came to the tent or the wagons. Bosks were fed, and fires were lit back up. Breakfast was then served. Wood was gathered and paga was poured.
The rain started to break on the third day, But the clouds still blanketed the sky with churning black and grays. The outpost of Set that layed on the south western most edge of the Northern Forest seemed to be on a bit of a Hill. Over the foggy horizon and through the thick of massive trees, the Laurius river could be seen, and the daunting mountains across the vast stretch of land to the south. The Laurius sounded weary. Great waves heaved themselves together with difficulty and collapsed as if in relief, gasping as they struck sharp rocks or trees. Observing this while pondering deep in throught of the future to come, Set threw back the burnoose from about His head and pulled down the veil about his face. His skin was a russet tem tree in color, weathered and worn. The outskirts of His eyes were lined with cob web like wrinkles, as if He had been squinting in the desert for over a hundred years. The Forest adventures He was learning to adore, as He turned His back on the woods to observe His camp. He had no idea the what lurked beyond the tree line that maybe even now surveyed and studied with intergalactic intelligence. As dusk fell upon the busy camp, thralls worked, and the Free hunted for food. Aldaril of the North begged a big thick tree for forgiveness before beginning to chop it down. After whispering the words only a true woodsman would know, He wiped the sweat of His big hands on His long red beard and picked up the massive axe and began to swing. Each chop echoed through the swamp like the clash of ominous drums horns, and after not much work or sweat the tall tree came crackling down to the ground with a thud like that of a crack of lighting. Somewhere in the forest a long-legged gant call pierced the sky in a wild call, almost like a alarm tube of the Hunjer. Work thralls began then, by Aldaril's lead, the dissection of the big tree into workable pieces of building material or kindle. Set watched from His spot at the main tents entrance with big black eyes, shimmering in the faint light of the brands as the gold teeth hid behind a brooding closed mouth. On a black metal stand next to the merchant perched a broad-winged Zad. The scavenger bird of the desert had long narrow yellow beak that nibbled under a wing of all white feathers briefly. Time to time Set would look at the bird that He had found in the Tahari, and He had hoped they would both live to see the Tahari again after all this was over. After the camp had finished, and the work was done, a great fire was made in the center of camp. It illuminated the area as night fell like a sand storm. Mead and paga went down there throats in celebration of the gathering of the wood to fix the wagons and leave this rotten place. Set got close to the fire and looked up, its pointy colors lashing at the stars and moons like kurts on the backs of salt mine slaves. Even some crude music was played by some who knew how to play the rare items, drums and a few baglama saz type guitars. When the party was over, and all turned in for the night, something had kept Set up in His furs. He was wide awake and alone in the big tent. The swamp was full of sounds of its inhabitants. There was layers of insect and bug calls droning sound, peppered with the calls of wild birds. There was something else besides the thoughts of anthropods and beetles, marcher ants and flys. It was the sound of something like the voice of Men not too far off in the distant northern forest. The reason He knew it was none of His own camp was because not only could He not recognize the voices, they sounded as if garbled or filtered. The voices sounded metallic and sharp. Set rubbed at His face and thought this another trick of the kanda or paga, and let out a deep breath before finally closing His eyes to sleep.
Day four. After the wagons were repaired and packed, The camp had moved many pasangs north east into the deep dense forest. Game was hunted for food when they finally had to stop due to another broken wagon wheel, The camp was erected again not to far off south of the Laurius River's sweeping southern arch towards the Sardar and Thentis mountains. The flora and fauna flourished with incredible strength. Everwhere was thriving life. Studies were made of insects and plant life. A tree was chopped down, one small enough to handle quickly and big enough to make wagon repairs and roast the kailiauk. As night fell, the forest became something totally different. What was once a tranquil and noble clearing that was freshly made and awe inspiring, with Herlit calls echoing over the treetops, was now a ball of light which none would tresspass the unknown of its circumference. Crickets droned from the darkness where the silence and bird chirping once lurked, only to be interupted by a burst of drunken laughter in camp. The three trident like horns from the forest kailiuks had been gathered to be sold later, as the animal was skinned and roasted. Its smell was salvation to the hungry Men, and was eaten with intoxicants of all kinds. The Spice Merchant spent most of His day inside the main tent with His closest and most trusted to deliberate the next course of action. They considered how the river would be crossed, if needed, or follow the rivers southern shore to the destination. No one asked about the destination, for Set rarely cared to speak at length of it. When night fell, the tent remained busy and lit. The food was relished and the drink was relaxing. When the last deliberator had turned in for the night, most of the brands had faded and died in the once lively camp. The merchant donned the burnoose and looked out over His elevated spot at the main tents entrance. The lightest snow fell from the dark gray sky, highlighting the trees and wagons with a thin white layer. He did His best thinking about this time. Alone. The three moons light beamed in thick snowy bands through the great canopy of the forest. The air was a daunting chill, and eerily quiet. He pondered deep, the mission half way over hopefully. If no pesky outlaws or savage women of these parts get in the way, the crashed Kur ship He would find before the priest kings would find would be a success. To all the others of the camp, it was a simple herb and spice retrieval. But to Set, it could mean a treasure trove of wonders. After escaping a close encounter with the species, He has been almost enthralled by the technology they had possessed. Soon, He hoped, He could unlock those secrets from the wreckage of a starship and bathe in that power. After much study and thanks to a broken metal voice box acquired from the Swamp north of Ar, Uzaza's metal planet ruin lied east from His current position and was yet to be uncovered. It had crashed a few years ago during the Kurii groups hibernation according to investigation, due to a malfunction while in orbit of Hesius. Little action was made by Priest-Kings due to costs, and the where-abouts of surviving Kur, if any, are unknown. When Set had drank enough palm wine, He made His way to His furs and put His scrolls away. As He laid awake in the dark, He looked over at the broken metal voice box. The swamp spiders were relatively human in nature and were oddly intelligent when discovered, aside from there anthropod design and massive physical size. He remembered what the female had said when she was captured and hacked to death, pilfered of her translator voice box. "What are you? Why do you wear that Gorean mask? You hide your face from all of my eyes." Set then fell asleep, the merchant teeth glowed in His mouth like candles in the night.
It rained harder that following morning, following a chain of lighting and thunder to which Set had been awoken by. Like most nights He fell asleep sober, His dreams were vivid and frightening nightmares. He sat up in a cold sweat from the larl furs and calmed His breathing, trying to remember what the dream was about. All He could remember was the faces that seemed to hunger for His demise, the vosk delta looking people that seemed to give sardonic looks. Kurii surrounded Him after He was beaten and broken to remind Him what His failure would ensue. A life of extreme torture on a master ship bigger then the planet Gor that would go on for hundreds of years. Set rubbed the sleep from His face and looked at the ceiling of the tent for a long time before exiting the tent and surveying His encampment outpost at the Northern Forests most south west treeline. It was as if He sat in a vast cavern whose walls and roof were composed of gloomy, unstable colours which would occasionally break and admit rays of light from the rising central skies fire. The walls were shifty clouds massed above mountains to the south and Laurius River was hard to believe was to the north east, for all that the sunlight pierced them, stained them and revealed the black and green forest sluggishly looming about on which the treeline which the camp stood. Distant thunder rolled, far off lighting did flicker. The rain that fell became thin. And the clouds were never still. From the dusky jet black to deadly white they swirled slowly, like cloaks of Men and Women engaged in a trace-like minuet. The Forest seemed ancient, as Great big trees tossed faintly about themselves in the gusts of wind that soon calmed eventually. After the storm had passed, Set would gather his bearings and take head counts and begin any repairs if any damage came to the tent or the wagons. Bosks were fed, and fires were lit back up. Breakfast was then served. Wood was gathered and paga was poured.
The rain started to break on the third day, But the clouds still blanketed the sky with churning black and grays. The outpost of Set that layed on the south western most edge of the Northern Forest seemed to be on a bit of a Hill. Over the foggy horizon and through the thick of massive trees, the Laurius river could be seen, and the daunting mountains across the vast stretch of land to the south. The Laurius sounded weary. Great waves heaved themselves together with difficulty and collapsed as if in relief, gasping as they struck sharp rocks or trees. Observing this while pondering deep in throught of the future to come, Set threw back the burnoose from about His head and pulled down the veil about his face. His skin was a russet tem tree in color, weathered and worn. The outskirts of His eyes were lined with cob web like wrinkles, as if He had been squinting in the desert for over a hundred years. The Forest adventures He was learning to adore, as He turned His back on the woods to observe His camp. He had no idea the what lurked beyond the tree line that maybe even now surveyed and studied with intergalactic intelligence. As dusk fell upon the busy camp, thralls worked, and the Free hunted for food. Aldaril of the North begged a big thick tree for forgiveness before beginning to chop it down. After whispering the words only a true woodsman would know, He wiped the sweat of His big hands on His long red beard and picked up the massive axe and began to swing. Each chop echoed through the swamp like the clash of ominous drums horns, and after not much work or sweat the tall tree came crackling down to the ground with a thud like that of a crack of lighting. Somewhere in the forest a long-legged gant call pierced the sky in a wild call, almost like a alarm tube of the Hunjer. Work thralls began then, by Aldaril's lead, the dissection of the big tree into workable pieces of building material or kindle. Set watched from His spot at the main tents entrance with big black eyes, shimmering in the faint light of the brands as the gold teeth hid behind a brooding closed mouth. On a black metal stand next to the merchant perched a broad-winged Zad. The scavenger bird of the desert had long narrow yellow beak that nibbled under a wing of all white feathers briefly. Time to time Set would look at the bird that He had found in the Tahari, and He had hoped they would both live to see the Tahari again after all this was over. After the camp had finished, and the work was done, a great fire was made in the center of camp. It illuminated the area as night fell like a sand storm. Mead and paga went down there throats in celebration of the gathering of the wood to fix the wagons and leave this rotten place. Set got close to the fire and looked up, its pointy colors lashing at the stars and moons like kurts on the backs of salt mine slaves. Even some crude music was played by some who knew how to play the rare items, drums and a few baglama saz type guitars. When the party was over, and all turned in for the night, something had kept Set up in His furs. He was wide awake and alone in the big tent. The swamp was full of sounds of its inhabitants. There was layers of insect and bug calls droning sound, peppered with the calls of wild birds. There was something else besides the thoughts of anthropods and beetles, marcher ants and flys. It was the sound of something like the voice of Men not too far off in the distant northern forest. The reason He knew it was none of His own camp was because not only could He not recognize the voices, they sounded as if garbled or filtered. The voices sounded metallic and sharp. Set rubbed at His face and thought this another trick of the kanda or paga, and let out a deep breath before finally closing His eyes to sleep.
Day four. After the wagons were repaired and packed, The camp had moved many pasangs north east into the deep dense forest. Game was hunted for food when they finally had to stop due to another broken wagon wheel, The camp was erected again not to far off south of the Laurius River's sweeping southern arch towards the Sardar and Thentis mountains. The flora and fauna flourished with incredible strength. Everwhere was thriving life. Studies were made of insects and plant life. A tree was chopped down, one small enough to handle quickly and big enough to make wagon repairs and roast the kailiauk. As night fell, the forest became something totally different. What was once a tranquil and noble clearing that was freshly made and awe inspiring, with Herlit calls echoing over the treetops, was now a ball of light which none would tresspass the unknown of its circumference. Crickets droned from the darkness where the silence and bird chirping once lurked, only to be interupted by a burst of drunken laughter in camp. The three trident like horns from the forest kailiuks had been gathered to be sold later, as the animal was skinned and roasted. Its smell was salvation to the hungry Men, and was eaten with intoxicants of all kinds. The Spice Merchant spent most of His day inside the main tent with His closest and most trusted to deliberate the next course of action. They considered how the river would be crossed, if needed, or follow the rivers southern shore to the destination. No one asked about the destination, for Set rarely cared to speak at length of it. When night fell, the tent remained busy and lit. The food was relished and the drink was relaxing. When the last deliberator had turned in for the night, most of the brands had faded and died in the once lively camp. The merchant donned the burnoose and looked out over His elevated spot at the main tents entrance. The lightest snow fell from the dark gray sky, highlighting the trees and wagons with a thin white layer. He did His best thinking about this time. Alone. The three moons light beamed in thick snowy bands through the great canopy of the forest. The air was a daunting chill, and eerily quiet. He pondered deep, the mission half way over hopefully. If no pesky outlaws or savage women of these parts get in the way, the crashed Kur ship He would find before the priest kings would find would be a success. To all the others of the camp, it was a simple herb and spice retrieval. But to Set, it could mean a treasure trove of wonders. After escaping a close encounter with the species, He has been almost enthralled by the technology they had possessed. Soon, He hoped, He could unlock those secrets from the wreckage of a starship and bathe in that power. After much study and thanks to a broken metal voice box acquired from the Swamp north of Ar, Uzaza's metal planet ruin lied east from His current position and was yet to be uncovered. It had crashed a few years ago during the Kurii groups hibernation according to investigation, due to a malfunction while in orbit of Hesius. Little action was made by Priest-Kings due to costs, and the where-abouts of surviving Kur, if any, are unknown. When Set had drank enough palm wine, He made His way to His furs and put His scrolls away. As He laid awake in the dark, He looked over at the broken metal voice box. The swamp spiders were relatively human in nature and were oddly intelligent when discovered, aside from there anthropod design and massive physical size. He remembered what the female had said when she was captured and hacked to death, pilfered of her translator voice box. "What are you? Why do you wear that Gorean mask? You hide your face from all of my eyes." Set then fell asleep, the merchant teeth glowed in His mouth like candles in the night.
The morning slowly came. The birds awoke before the sky's central fire kissed the dawn. Wood chopping could be heard by the work thralls, and a fire was soon crackling in the center of the circle of 3 wagons. The big tent in which Set slept had erected not to far off. When they packed it all up after breakfast, they continued along the southern shore of the Laurius River south before it swept towards the east. Fishing was done for lunch, baked mollusk, sorp, and parsit drizzled with fresh tospit. After this more ground was made until Set had realized geographically they were heading the correct way. The caravan consisted of the plunders of spices, plants, and scientific research the the flora and fauna. Some things were brought just incase of a run in with Panther girls or Outlaws, things that could be sold or bartered. Trickets, armour, weapons, medical supplies, spices, and candy. In the wagons held five work thralls, one was sick. In each wagon there was a Free, manning the steering of the wooden wagons that were drawn through the thick forest by bosk. There was Sunder Aldaril, a short and fat blonde bearded scarlet from the Isle of Hunjer. His quick thinking during times in desperate need were key, as was His humor over a mead or a swing of a battle axe in a fight. There was Larrius Varro, another scarlet, but of Ko-ro-ba and deadly with a lance. Tall, thin, muscular, and quick on His feet. He was a true warrior, with long brown hair tucked beneath the "Y" slotted helm. Both these Men carried crude shields as they were not in the most need of one where They were. Last but not least there was Rissinia, the karian theif. As a Free Woman she relied on her intelligence, her cunning, and her wit. She carried a broad sword in her right, and was learning it fast. Ahead of the Three wagons spread like tarn wings was Set the spice merchant. The white burnoose mostly hid His massive 500 gorean pound mass of mostly fat, His face hidden in a scarf like veil. Scabbarded his side was a two handed scimtar of the tahari, Its golden pommel shimmered in the faint light that seemed to escape down from the canopy. Every once in a while He would slow down and scan with big black pupils, making sure He was not being led into a trap by the Kur or otherwise...
There came a point were the caravan of three wagons had come to a halt. They had followed the southern shore of the Laurius River until the brush became too thick. One of the work thralls had died of some kind of fever and was given a quick burial. They were at an impass with the dense forest and decided to set up camp and debate the next course of action. Another tree was hacked down before the sun had set, its chopping echoed through out the river bank and beyond the treeline across the water. Fire was ignited and botas were drained. Brands of thalarion oil soaked bark and wispy scraps burned and kept the bugs away, and most animals of the night stayed away from the light and noise. There was some music to be played by some drunken work thralls, and laughing could be heard every few ehn. Inside the big tent, away from the wagons and the thralls and there after work time off, The spice merchant Set and His cohorts loomed over a table with a crude map lit by candle. Set was a massively stout Man of some 500 Taharian pounds, adorned with a fine white burnoose. There was two other Men in the tent. A Jarl from Torvaldsland and a Rarius of KoRoBa. They drank, and ate cheeses. Finally set took the kanda leaf he had been sucking on and flicked it away. A hand ringed with gold went to the pommel of a scimitar at His left hip. Like this they stayed for a long moment in ominous silence. The pressure of living in the forest was felt, but it would not last for long.
After the drinks were drank and the food was digested, the camp turned in for the night. The brands died out and the fire was quenched. A pillar of smoke rose into the sky and high above the tree tops. When the Men in the tent dispersed, they left with a feeling of foreboding gnarling inside of them but remained very formal. Set removed the scimitar and hung it up and laid down to rest. He closed His eyes and listened to the owls and insects, letting the paga induce sleep. The big Man breathed and breathed until before He had noticed He was asleep. Or was He? A went black. There was soft mechanical beeping sound and a muffled voice, as if it was transmitted through paper. A vision so real began to unfold. It was a swamp spider the size of a wagon, surrounded by a group of snarling men with swords and brands. The massive anthropod seemed to lift its legs to flee, but arrows and swords proved it impossible. The spider seemed to scream out a high pitch as swords rose and fell. Black blood pumped from the wounds as it crumpled to the soaked dirt. A cheer could be heard from them as a mechanical voice box was raised above them, the communicator once worn by the harmonious and peaceful swamp spider which now lay in a gibbering mutilated heap. Set felt a great pain for this animal, but it was too late. She gave to Set one more final gift. But He did not want it. He heard the cheering dull and fade, as if He had been submerged under water. His ears popped. He went to scream but nothing came out. Clear as a bell, He could hear the voice of a Woman. Her voice was garbled and metallic, yet soft and beautiful.
"I shall wear your pain like the finest of shawl and dance before you in it."
He Gasped awake. He was in the tent, sprawled out on the larl furs. He coughed and took a long draw from a nearby bota. Paga. He huffed and tried to catch His breath, using a rep cloth on the beading sweat about His forehead. He swallowed hard and gathered His bearings. His gold teeth shimmered in the night and the merchant laid back down finally, this time for the night He hoped.
The hermit birds and herlits, woodpecks and owns, all were a choras of music that emanated from the trees as the sun rose upon the Northern Forest. When Set had awoke that morning, He remembered feeling a bit light headed. He dismissed it as being some kind of ailment from the paga the night before. Though the dream He still brooded about under the facade of a golden merchant smile. The sun was not out for much of the day, clouds and periods of thin rain lasted into the night. During the day they had did allot of reinforcement on the wagons, mostly the wheels. Two trees were chopped down and savagely milled to use over the coarse of the day. More thoughts Between the Two other Men and Set had been spoken about at length, especially the thought of casting off down river by boat. When the current was correct, they could head down river by a raft of some kind and leaving the wagons behind. Then they would steer down stream to the destination, retrieve what had to be retrieved from said destination, and then sail back to the wagons and leave the forest unscathed. The three wagons and four work thralls would be left to be defended by either Aldaril of the North, or Larrius Varro the Rarius. Rissinia of Kar would also stay behind, Her cunning and wit was as quick as Her quiva. Only Set and One of His chosing would go on this "special mission". When night finally fell, the rest of the kailiauk that was hunted the night before was roasted so that nothing would go to waste. The bosks that pulled the wagon were also fed regularly, as they were a special species for pulling, carrying, and working. They ate plentifully, and drank accordingly. After a brief word with Aldaril, Set summoned for Larrius Varro. When the Rarius finaly arrived to the main tent, He would find Set deep in the back on a pile of larl furs. There seemed to be a haze in the tent as He made His way through. When Set stood to join Him at the table for paga, He was not as tall as Larrius who was over seven gorean feet. But Set was over four hundred gorean pounds, and alot more round. His fingers clicked with metal as gold rings went to the footed bowl of hot paga, its steam dancing before them in sharp wisps. When Set smiled, Golden merchant teeth glowed in His dark mouth like fires in the Forest fog. They cob webbed with thick silvery saliva when He spoke to the Rarius, as He explained He would be the one to board the boat that would take them down stream to the destination. He was instructed to have His best wits about Him, for this could be a fatal journey. He told Him the dangers of Outlaws, and the horrors of Pather Women, but He left a big part out. He dismissed the Man, and they both had finished there bowls of paga. What Set did not tell the Rarius was that the possibility of finding a crashed Kurii starship in the woods if His studies were correct was a possibility. The find could be extremely beneficial, mostly for hidden reasons only Set knew. Or the find could be fatal, stumbling upon a pack of stranded and wild Kurii or worse. The broken steel planet that was pasangs wide could harbor some other intergalactic mystery, or could be a useless ruin and catacomb to long deceased Kur. For now, Set relaxed, ate and enjoyed the atmosphere while dressing appropriately for the weather.
There came a point were the caravan of three wagons had come to a halt. They had followed the southern shore of the Laurius River until the brush became too thick. One of the work thralls had died of some kind of fever and was given a quick burial. They were at an impass with the dense forest and decided to set up camp and debate the next course of action. Another tree was hacked down before the sun had set, its chopping echoed through out the river bank and beyond the treeline across the water. Fire was ignited and botas were drained. Brands of thalarion oil soaked bark and wispy scraps burned and kept the bugs away, and most animals of the night stayed away from the light and noise. There was some music to be played by some drunken work thralls, and laughing could be heard every few ehn. Inside the big tent, away from the wagons and the thralls and there after work time off, The spice merchant Set and His cohorts loomed over a table with a crude map lit by candle. Set was a massively stout Man of some 500 Taharian pounds, adorned with a fine white burnoose. There was two other Men in the tent. A Jarl from Torvaldsland and a Rarius of KoRoBa. They drank, and ate cheeses. Finally set took the kanda leaf he had been sucking on and flicked it away. A hand ringed with gold went to the pommel of a scimitar at His left hip. Like this they stayed for a long moment in ominous silence. The pressure of living in the forest was felt, but it would not last for long.
After the drinks were drank and the food was digested, the camp turned in for the night. The brands died out and the fire was quenched. A pillar of smoke rose into the sky and high above the tree tops. When the Men in the tent dispersed, they left with a feeling of foreboding gnarling inside of them but remained very formal. Set removed the scimitar and hung it up and laid down to rest. He closed His eyes and listened to the owls and insects, letting the paga induce sleep. The big Man breathed and breathed until before He had noticed He was asleep. Or was He? A went black. There was soft mechanical beeping sound and a muffled voice, as if it was transmitted through paper. A vision so real began to unfold. It was a swamp spider the size of a wagon, surrounded by a group of snarling men with swords and brands. The massive anthropod seemed to lift its legs to flee, but arrows and swords proved it impossible. The spider seemed to scream out a high pitch as swords rose and fell. Black blood pumped from the wounds as it crumpled to the soaked dirt. A cheer could be heard from them as a mechanical voice box was raised above them, the communicator once worn by the harmonious and peaceful swamp spider which now lay in a gibbering mutilated heap. Set felt a great pain for this animal, but it was too late. She gave to Set one more final gift. But He did not want it. He heard the cheering dull and fade, as if He had been submerged under water. His ears popped. He went to scream but nothing came out. Clear as a bell, He could hear the voice of a Woman. Her voice was garbled and metallic, yet soft and beautiful.
"I shall wear your pain like the finest of shawl and dance before you in it."
He Gasped awake. He was in the tent, sprawled out on the larl furs. He coughed and took a long draw from a nearby bota. Paga. He huffed and tried to catch His breath, using a rep cloth on the beading sweat about His forehead. He swallowed hard and gathered His bearings. His gold teeth shimmered in the night and the merchant laid back down finally, this time for the night He hoped.
The hermit birds and herlits, woodpecks and owns, all were a choras of music that emanated from the trees as the sun rose upon the Northern Forest. When Set had awoke that morning, He remembered feeling a bit light headed. He dismissed it as being some kind of ailment from the paga the night before. Though the dream He still brooded about under the facade of a golden merchant smile. The sun was not out for much of the day, clouds and periods of thin rain lasted into the night. During the day they had did allot of reinforcement on the wagons, mostly the wheels. Two trees were chopped down and savagely milled to use over the coarse of the day. More thoughts Between the Two other Men and Set had been spoken about at length, especially the thought of casting off down river by boat. When the current was correct, they could head down river by a raft of some kind and leaving the wagons behind. Then they would steer down stream to the destination, retrieve what had to be retrieved from said destination, and then sail back to the wagons and leave the forest unscathed. The three wagons and four work thralls would be left to be defended by either Aldaril of the North, or Larrius Varro the Rarius. Rissinia of Kar would also stay behind, Her cunning and wit was as quick as Her quiva. Only Set and One of His chosing would go on this "special mission". When night finally fell, the rest of the kailiauk that was hunted the night before was roasted so that nothing would go to waste. The bosks that pulled the wagon were also fed regularly, as they were a special species for pulling, carrying, and working. They ate plentifully, and drank accordingly. After a brief word with Aldaril, Set summoned for Larrius Varro. When the Rarius finaly arrived to the main tent, He would find Set deep in the back on a pile of larl furs. There seemed to be a haze in the tent as He made His way through. When Set stood to join Him at the table for paga, He was not as tall as Larrius who was over seven gorean feet. But Set was over four hundred gorean pounds, and alot more round. His fingers clicked with metal as gold rings went to the footed bowl of hot paga, its steam dancing before them in sharp wisps. When Set smiled, Golden merchant teeth glowed in His dark mouth like fires in the Forest fog. They cob webbed with thick silvery saliva when He spoke to the Rarius, as He explained He would be the one to board the boat that would take them down stream to the destination. He was instructed to have His best wits about Him, for this could be a fatal journey. He told Him the dangers of Outlaws, and the horrors of Pather Women, but He left a big part out. He dismissed the Man, and they both had finished there bowls of paga. What Set did not tell the Rarius was that the possibility of finding a crashed Kurii starship in the woods if His studies were correct was a possibility. The find could be extremely beneficial, mostly for hidden reasons only Set knew. Or the find could be fatal, stumbling upon a pack of stranded and wild Kurii or worse. The broken steel planet that was pasangs wide could harbor some other intergalactic mystery, or could be a useless ruin and catacomb to long deceased Kur. For now, Set relaxed, ate and enjoyed the atmosphere while dressing appropriately for the weather.