"Cast off your shackles, women! Come together as one! You do not need men, men need you! Join me! Join me and we can change Gor! I will give you the power to do so, my children! I will make you immortal!"
Like the rest of this chaotic (but color coordinated!!) site,
this too is under construction. Sorry guys, I do have a job. ::grin::
How about some entertainment?
These funnies are from the muns of Nikkie (ivnikkievi) and Meghan (ivmeghanvi). If you've ever played White Wolf, they'll make much more sense than if you've only played in AOL Gor.
When a mistake is made on the voyages of Acquisition, they bring one woman who has the power to change it all.
Sunday, coming to a theater near you. Tzimisce of Gor.
"Have you noticed the uprising of opened graves, Master?" "Yes, slave." "I fear it is that peculiar breed of men I have noticed lately, those in garb of black, the House of Giovanni?" "Kings help us all..."
Never before has someone taken such an interest in the Cities of Dust. House Giovanni opens up a whole new can of worms (and a few festering ones), threatening all of Gor with their morbid fascination.
Coming to a theater near you. Giovanni of Gor.
"Wild urts? Nae, they're men!" "But.. they have the teeth of larl." "...the fur of sleen" "...the hooves of kaiila."
The slave, beautiful in her agony, tormented by her frenzied desire, rabidly humped the leg of the man, almost sleen-like in his appearance. "Find a slave pleasing, Master! Find the slave pleasing!" Gangrel, unable to contain himself, flipped the blonde over and sniffed her butt.
Gangrel of Gor.
"Sir, Sir! We're underattack!" Wounded, half dead, the man came crawling into his superior's tent. "Attack, by what?" "Men, dozens of men, all red headed." Meanwhile.. Malkav sat atop his kaiila steed, smirking faintly as the plethora of Carrot Tops came charging down the grassy knoll.
Malkav of Gor.
"Fear me!" Malkav bellowed, and the slaves before him snickered. "What?! What is your problem?!" The slaves, unable to contain themselves, burst into laughter. "Speak, or I shall smite you all!" Howling, the slaves fell from the common position of the pleasure slave, rolling on their sides, and stomaches, beautifully. One slave, gasping for breath, finally spoke. "Master, you wear naught but a soup bowl on your head and a belt. Where a whip should hang, you have a wet noodle!" Malkav, furious, punished the girls severely with the limp noodle. Four slaves died that night. It was, incidentally, their laughter that ruptured their organs, and not the force with which they were struck.
Malkav of Gor, Second Offense.
"This praying mantis is huge!" "Yes. I see. And its powers are great." "Surely it is a product of our immortal enemies, House Tzimisce." "Nae. This is beyond their fiendish works." "What shall we do with it, Master?" "Steal its power, of course."
It seems that Gor is doomed when House Tremere discovers a Priest King. Will all of Gor falter when the Usurpers defile the power of the Big Bugs? Or will House Tzimisce thwart their plans and form an allegience with the Kings?
Don't miss out on the 347th in the New Gor Order Series, Tremere of Gor.
The dancer kept the crowd enthralled with her movements. Each step perfected, each turn of leg, dip and rock of hip. She portrayed easily of her story, her plight within the dance. Her body kept them entranced while her eyes held them fixated like that of a serpent to its pray. Rezald stood near, smiling to himself while watching the woman perform for the Tuchuks. Little did they know she was but an illusion, a figment of their imaginations. Also, little did they know how loudly the Ravnos would be laughing coming the next eve when they had been robbed blind.
Ravnos of Gor.
"Who did this?! Who killed over three hundred men in my army!" "It.. it was.. was one person, Sir." "One? ONE?!?" "Uh.. yes Sir." "Who was he!? Bring him to me!" "We cannot, sir. His rage is boundless!" "Who is he!!" "Brujah Sir!"
If you were convinced that Malkav, bedlamite of Gor, was the man who came to mind when the words "massive killing spree" were uttered, think again.
Brujah, Rarius of Gor.
Over the vicious tide the snake was rowed by the dozens upon dozens of men. The chill of the air bit through their clothing and the fur that laced their bodies, stinging the skin below viciously like thousands of angry bees. Olaf looked over the bow of the ship, watching as they continued their track over the sea. The blood rushed in his veins, making him feel more alive than usual as he lifted his gaze to the trio of full moons above. Luna and her sisters were shining brightly upon him and the group of Torvaldslanders behind him. War was called for, and war they would get. A lone howl pierced the air, it's call a chilling cry of challenge. "I am Olaf Claws-Of-Kurii Ugleeson, Ahroun Modi of Fenris' Get, Jarl of Tyrs Hand! Come fight Cosian spawn!!"
Goreans, salvation has arrived. When all had lost hope, believing their precious world had been overtaken by the mysterious rise of the "Houses of Undead," the Voyages of Acquisition returned with half men, half beast. At last, a predator for the Undead!
Get of Fenris, Kur-Men of Gor.
"Female, halt!" The guards of Ar were rounding up she-urts for the collar and minor blocks. Their night had been successful, and now they tracked the last one, an amazingly agile creature, who, beneath the soot and grime, could be beautiful. "Halt, female!" The female, stupidly it seemed, ran straight into a dead end - a narrow alley way, blocked off on three sides by sturdy walls. Suddenly, the girl spun, and where the guards expected fear, they saw only fury, with a trace of triumph, in her eyes. "Persue not Dances-With-Paga-and-Feasts-With-Urts!" From the alley, screams were heard, and a great struggle ensued. Remarkably high pitched were the shrieks, and those who listened smirked, thinking the girl to be captured. Finally, the shrieks died. Any who looked would see a swarm of urts, nae, a sea of them, fleeing the alley way. All that remained of the Arian Guards was their armor. The urts had eaten everything else.
Something is happening to the guards of many cities during the round-ups of street urts. Strange girls, scantily clad in bits of rep, build odd shrines to even odder Kings, and the mystery has all of Gor careful of who they take into slavery.
October, coming to a theater near you. Glass Gnawers, the Wild Street Urts of Gor.