The People
The Kur: Dangerous Aliens
Enemy of Gor
The Kurii are an alien species, fierce and warlike. The Kur planned a coup to overtake Gor for themselves, waging war against the Priest Kings. Anyone befriending or serving a Kur is considered an enemy of the Priest Kings, and therefore, an enemy of Gor.
Highly militaristic and organized, with divisors and multiples having to do with seemingly, a base-twelve mathematics, perhaps indexed historically to the six digits of the creature's prehensile appendages. Six Kur, form a Hand, the leader of which is called an Eye; two Hands and two Eyes compose a Kur or Beast, commanded by a leader called a Blood. Twelve Kur (or Beast) forms a Band, also commanded by a Blood; twelve Bands comprise a March; twelve Marches are a People. There are various ranks of Bloods, commanding various military units, such as Hands, Eyes, Beasts, Marches and People. It was believed by the Kur that thought was a function of the blood rather than the brain, hence the term Blood to denote a military thinker and leader. The ultimate commander is, of course, the Blood of the People.
"One is a Blood," I said.
"What is that?" asked Samos.
"In their military organizations," I said, "six such beasts constitute a Hand, and its leader is called an Eye. Two hands and two eyes constitute a larger unit, called a 'Kur' or 'Beast,' which is commanded by a leader, or Blood. Twelve such units constitute a Band, commanded again by a Blood, though of higher rank. Twelve bands, Twelve bands, again commanded by a Blood, of yet higher rank, constitute a March. Twelve Marches is said to constitute a People. These divisors and multiples have to do with, it seems, a base-twelve mathematics, itself perhaps indexed historically to the six digits of one of the creature's prehensil appendages."
"Why is the leader spoken of as a Blood?" asked Samos.
"It seems to have been an ancient belief among such creatures," I said, "that thought was a function of the blood, rather than of the brain, a terminology which has apparently lingered in their common speech. Similar anachronisms occur in many languages, including Gorean."
"Who commands a People?" asked Samos.
"One who is said to be a 'Blood' of the People, as I understand it," I said. — Savages of Gor, page 22-23.
A scene from Marauders of Gor in which Forkbeard and Tarl Cabot climb Torvaldsberg, pursued by Kurii.
"How do you know one of these is a 'Blood?'" asked Samos.
"The left wrist of the larger animal bears two rings, rings of reddish alloy," I said. "They are welded on the wrist. No Gorean file can cut them."
"He is then of high rank?" asked Samos.
"Of lower rank than if he wore one," I said. "Two such rings designate the leader of a Band. He would have a ranking, thusly, of the sort normally accorded to one who commanded one hundred and eighty of his fellows."
"The other," said Samos, "wears two golden rings in its ears."
"It is a vain beast," I said. "Such rings serve only as ornaments. It is possible he is a diplomat." — Savages of Gor, pages 22-23.
A beast mistakenly thought of as similar to an Earth bear, the Kurii stand approximately nine feet tall, weighing approximately nine hundred pounds. Their eyes can adjust to hunt both diurnally and nocturnally. It's snout is flat, with wide nostrils. Its ears are large and pointed, and when meeting humans, they lay their ears back against the sides of their heads, to increase their resemblance to humans. It's also a sign of hostility or anger. It is apparently physiologically impossible for a Kur to attack without its shoulders hunching, its claws emerging, and its ears lying back against the head. It's senses of smell and hearing are quite acute. The Kur has two rows of fangs, and its mouth is large enough to take into it the head of a full-grown man. Its canines, in the front row of fangs, top and bottom, are long. The arms are long, about seven feet. And the legs are short and thick. A Kur can move rapidly in an upright position if he so chooses. It's hands are six-digited and multiple-jointed.
The Kur are fond of adornments. Generally they wear armbands or earrings made of gold. This jewelry also denotes a rank the Kur holds within the group.
Expert at weaponry, they carry a wide, round shield of iron, approximately four feet in diameter. They use a double-bladed iron axe, which from blade tip to blade tip is about two feet in width. The handles are of carved, green needle wood, round and four inches in diameter. The overall length of the axes are about seven to eight feet.
Though the Kur do capture female slaves, it is not for the same purpose as men of Gor capture female slaves. Incidentally, the Kur collar is some three inches high, a locking collar with a large rounded ring, sewn in leather. It is snapped shut, by use of a flat bolt, into the locking breech, the two edges of metal bordered by leather, fitted snugly together.
Among the Kurii, in their various languages, are words referring to edible meat, food. These general terms, in their scope, include human beings. These terms are sometimes best translated as meat animal and sometimes cattle or sometimes, simply food. The human being is regarded by Kurii as falling within the scope of application of such terms. The term translated cattle is sometimes qualified to discriminate between four-legged cattle and two-legged cattle, of which the Kurii are familiar with two varieties: the bounding Hurt, and the human being.
Incidentally, it should be noted that the soft flesh of the human female is regarded as a delicacy among the Kurii.
A Kur Speaks at the Thing
(from Marauders of Gor, pages 169-179, edited)
It lifted its head. It stood on the small hill, sloping above the assembly field. This hill was set with stones, rather in the manner of terraces. On these stones, set in semicircular lines, like terraces, stood high men and minor jarls, and rune-priests, and the guard of Svein Blue Tooth. Just below the top of the small hill, cut into the hill, there was a level, stone-paved platform, some twelve feet by twelve feet in dimension. On this platform stood Svein Blue Tooth, with two high men, officers, lieutenants, to the jarl. The thing, its head lifted, surveyed the assembly of free men. The pupils of its eyes, in the sunlight, were extremely small and black. They were like points in the yellowish green cornea. I knew that, in darkness, they could swell, like dark moons, to fill almost the entire optic orifice, some three or four inches in width. Evolution, on some distant, perhaps vanished world, had adapted this life form for both diurnal and nocturnal hunting. Doubtless, like the cat, it hunted when hungry, and its efficient visual capacities, like those of the cats, meant that there was no time of the day or night when it might not be feared. Its head was approximately the width of the chest of a large man. It had a flat snout, with wide nostrils. Its ears were large, and pointed. They lifted from the side of its head, listening, and then lay back against the furred sides of the head. Kurii, I had been told, usually, in meeting men, laid the ears back against the sides of their heads, to increase their resemblance to humans. The ears are often laid back, also, incidentally, in hostility or anger, and, always, in its attacks. It is apparently physiologically impossible for a Kur to attack without its shoulders hunching, its claws emerging, and its ears lying back against the head. The nostrils of the beast drank in what information it wished, as they, like its eyes, surveyed the throng. The trailing capacities of the Kurii are not as superb as those of the sleen, but they were reputed to be the equal of those of larls. The hearing, similarly, is acute. Again it is equated with that of the larl, and not the sharply-sensed sleen. There was little doubt that the day vision of the Kurii was equivalent to that of men, if not superior, and the night vision, of course, was infinitely superior; their sense of smell, too, of course, was incomparably superior to that of men, and their sense of hearing as well. Moreover, they, like men, were rational. Like men, they were a single-brained organism, limited by a spinal column. Their intelligence, by Priest-Kings, though the brain was much larger, was rated as equivalent to that of men, and showed similar random distributions throughout gene pools. What made them such dreaded foes was not so much their intelligence or, on the steel worlds, their technological capacities, as their aggressiveness, their persistence their emotional commitments, their need to populate and expand, their innate savagery. The beast was approximately nine feet in height; I conjectured its weight in the neighborhood of eight or nine hundred pounds. Interestingly, Priest-Kings, who are not visually oriented organisms, find little difference between Kurii and men. To me this seems preposterous, for ones so wise as Priest-Kings, but, in spite of its obvious falsity, Priest-Kings regard the Kurii and men as rather similar, almost equivalent species. One difference they do remark between the human and the Kur, and that is that the human, commonly, has an inhibition against killing. This inhibition the Kur lacks.
"Fellow rational creatures!" called the Kur. It was difficult at first to understand it. It was horrifying, too. Suppose that, at some zoo, the tiger, in its cage, should look at you, and, in its rumbles, its snarls, its growls, its half roars, you should be able, to your horror, to detect crude approximations of the phonemes of your native tongue, and you should hear it speaking to you, looking at you, uttering intelligible sentences. I shuddered.
"Fellow rational creatures!" called the Kur.
The Kur has two rows of fangs. Its mouth is large enough to take into it the head of a full-grown man. Its canines, in the front row of fangs, top and bottom, are long. When it closes its mouth the upper two canines project over the lower lip and jaw. Its tongue is long and dark, the interior of its mouth reddish.
"Men of Torvaldsland," it called, "I speak to you."
Behind the Kur, to one side, stood two other Kurii. They, like the first, were fearsome creatures. Each carried a wide, round shield, of iron, some four feet in diameter. Each, too, carried a great, double-bladed iron ax, which, from blade tip to blade tip, was some two feet in width. The handle of the ax was of carved, green needle wood, round, some four inches in diameter. The axes were some seven or eight feet in height. The speaker was not armed, save by the natural ferocity of his species. As he spoke, his claws were retracted. About his left arm, which was some seven feet in length, was a spiral golden armlet. It was his only adornment. The two Kurii behind him, each, had a golden pendant hanging-from the bottom of each ear. The prehensile paws, or hands, of the Kurii are six-digited and multiple jointed. The legs are thick and short. In spite of the shortness of the legs the Kur can, when it wishes, by utilizing its upper appendages, in the manner of a prairie simian, like the baboon, move with great rapidity. It becomes, in running, what is, in effect, a four-footed animal. It has the erect posture, permitting brain development and facilitating acute binocular vision, of a biped. This posture, too, of course, greatly in-creases the scanning range of the visual sensors. But, too, its anatomy permits it to function, in flight and attack, much as a four-legged beast. For short distances it can outrun a full-grown tarsk. It is also said to possess great stamina, but of this I am much less certain. Few animals, which have not been trained, have, or need, stamina. An exception would be pack hunters, like the wolves or hunting dogs of Earth.
"We come in peace," it said.
"You know us, unfortunately," said the Kur, to the assembly, "only by our outcasts, wretches driven from our caves, unfit for the gentilities of civilization, by our diseased and our misfits and our insane, by those who, in spite of our effort and kindness, did not manage to learn our ways of peace and harmony."
"It is in friendship we come." It looked about. "We are a simple, peaceful folk," it said, "interested in the pursuit of agriculture."
The assembly broke into laughter.
"You are amused," it said.
"How many of you have gathered?" asked Svein Blue Tooth.
"As many," said the Kur, "as the stones on the beaches, as many as needles on the needle trees."
"What do you want?" he asked.
The Kur turned to the assembly. "It is our wish to traverse your country in a march southward."
"What crop," asked Ivar Forkbeard, "do the Kurii most favor in their agricultural pursuits?"
I saw the ears of the Kur lie swiftly back against its head. Its lips drew back from its fangs. "Sa-Tarna," it said.
"What will you pay," asked Svein Blue Tooth, "for permission to traverse our land, should that permission be granted?"
"We will take little or nothing," said the Kur, "and so must be asked to pay nothing."
There was an angry murmur from men in the field.
"But," said the Kur, "as there are many of us, we will need provisions, which we will expect you to furnish us."
"That we will furnish you?" asked Blue Svein Tooth.
"We will require," said the Kur, "four each day of the march, as provisions, a hundred verr, a hundred tarsk, a hundred bosk, one hundred healthy property-females of the sort you refer to as bond-maids."
"As provisions?" asked the Blue Tooth, puzzled. Svein Blue Tooth laughed. "We have better use for our bond-maids," said Svein Blue Tooth, "than to feed them to Kurii."
"We will require too," said the Kur, "one thousand male slaves, as porters, and to be used, too, as provisions."
"And if all this be granted to you," asked Svein Blue Tooth, "what will you grant us in return?"
"Your lives," said the Kur. "Consider carefully your answer, my friends. In all, our requests are reasonable."
"I have here," said Svein Blue Tooth, "a bucket of Sa-Tarna grain. This, in token of hospitality, I offer to our guest."
The Kur looked into the bucket, and at the yellow grain. "I thank the great Jarl," said the beast, "and fine grain it is. It will be our hope to have such good fortune with our own crops in the south. But I must decline to taste your gift, for we, like men, and unlike bosk, do not feed on raw grain."
The Jarl then took, from the hands of Ivar Forkbeard's man, the leather wrapped object. It was a round, flat, six-sectioned loaf of Sa-Tarna bread. The Kur looked at it. "Feed," invited Svein Blue Tooth.
The Kur reached out and took the loaf. "I shall take this to my camp," it said, "as a token of the good will of the men of Torvaldsland."
"Feed," invited Svein Blue Tooth.
The two Kurii behind the speaker growled, soft, like irritated larls. The Kur looked upon the loaf, as we might have looked on grass or wood or the shell of a turtle. Then, slowly, he put it in his mouth. Scarcely had he swallowed it than he howled with nausea, and cast it up. It then stood on the platform, its shoulders hunched; I saw the claws expose themselves; the ears were back flat against its head; its eyes blazed.
"Do we, free men of Torvaldsland," called out Svein Blue Tooth, "grant permission to the Kurii to traverse our land?"
"No," came the cries from the assembly.
"A thousand of you can die beneath the claws of a single Kur!" cried the Kur.
At the Home of Svein Blue Tooth
(from Marauders of Gor, pages 204-210, edited)
The hall filled with their horrid howling, eyes blazing, led by the Kur with the golden band, frenzied by the blood shriek, they leaped forward, great axes flailing. I saw half of the body of a man spinning crazily past. Kurii leapt down the long sides of the hall, slashing, cutting men down as they fled to their weapons. The wooden shields of Torvaldsland no more stopped the great axes than dried skins of larma fruit, stretched on sewing frames, might have resisted the four-bladed dagger cestus of Anango or the hatchet gauntlet of eastern Skjern. More than once the blades of the Kurii axes bit through the spines of men, reaching for their weapons, and splintered, gouging, in the beams of the hall.
The Kur axes fell again and again. The hall rang with their howling. I saw a man-at-arms lifted, back broken, in the black, furred, tentacled hand of one of the marauders. The thing roared, head bad. The white fangs seemed scarlet in the light of the fires from the roof. From my right, I heard the scream of a bond-maid. I saw a Kur leash her. He pulled her, struggling, by the neck, choking, to a place to the left of the door. There waited another Kur, who held in his tentacled hand the leashes of more than twenty bond-maids, who knelt, terrified, at its legs.
I recalled its words on the platform of the assembly, in the field of The Thing. In rage it had cried, "A thousand of you can die beneath the claws of a single Kur!" There were perhaps now no more than a hundred or a hundred and fifty men left alive in the hall.
The Skerry of Vars
(from Marauders of Gor, pages 272-274, edited)
"In the marshes," she said, "I was contacted by Kurii." She looked at me. "They desire peace," she said.
I smiled.
"It is true," she said angrily. "Doubtless you find it difficult to believe. But they are sincere. There has been war for centuries. They weary of strife. They need an envoy, one known to the Priest Kings, yet one independent of them, one whom they respect , a man of valiance and judgement, with whom to negotiate, one to carry their proposals to Priest Kings."
"What little I know," said Telima, "is more than enough. In the marshes, I was contacted by a mighty Kur, but one courteous, one strong and gentle. It would be difficult to speak directly with you. It would be difficult to begin this work if Priest Kings understood our enterprise."
"And so," I said, "you pretended to be slain in the marshes. A Kur was seen. Your screams were heard. A bloodied armlet, bloodied hair, was found in the rence. The Kur departed north. I, as expected, informed of this deed, took pursuit."
"And now," she smiled, "you are here. It is the first act in the drama wherewith peace will be purchased between warring peoples."
"Your plan," I said, "was brilliant." In the gown, long and white, flowing, Telima straightened, glowing. "Your raiment," I said, "is of high quality. There is little like that in the rence."
"The Kurii, misunderstood," she said, "are a gentle people. They have treated me as a Ubara."
I looked now beyond Telima. I saw now, head first, then shoulders, then body, a Kur, climbing to the surface of the skerry. He was large, even for a Kur, some nine feet in height. His weight, I conjectured, was some eight or nine hundred pounds. Its arms were some seven feet in length. About its left arm was a spiral band of gold. It carried on its shoulder, a large, long, flattish object, wrapped in purple cloth, dark in the dusk. I knew the Kur. It had been he who had addressed the assembly. It had been he who had been first in the hall of Svein Blue Tooth, the night of the attack. It had been he who had rallied the Kurii in the raid on their camp, in the ensuing battle. It had been he, doubtless a Kur from the steel worlds themselves, who had commanded the Kurii army, who had been the leader of their forces.
I inclined my head to him. "We have met before, have we not?" I asked.
The Kur rested back on its haunches, some twenty feet from me. It laid the large, flattish object, wrapped in dark cloth, on the stone before him.
"May I present," inquired Telima, "Rog, emissary of peace from the Kurii."
"Are you Tarl Cabot?" asked the beasts.
"Yes," I said.
"Have you come unarmed?" it asked.
"Yes," I said.
"We have sought you before," it said, "once in Port Kar, by poison."
"Yes," I said.
"That attempt failed," it said.
"That is true," I said.
He unwrapped the object before him. "The woman has told you my name is Rog. That is sufficient. Yet my true name could not be pronounced in your mouth. Yet, you shall hear it." He then, regarding me, uttered a sound, a modulated emanation from the cords in his throat, which I could not duplicate. It was not a human noise. "That," it said, "is whom you face. It is unfortunate that you do not know the ways of the Kurii, or the dynasties of our clans. In my way, to use concepts you may grasp, I am a prince among my people, not only in blood, but by battle, for in such a way only does one become prince among the Kurii. I have been trained in leadership, and have, in assuming such a leadership, killed for the rings. I say this that you may understand that it is much honor that is done to you. The Kurii know you, and though you are human, an animal, this honor they do to you."
He now lifted the object from the cloth. It was a Kur ax, its handle some eight feet in length, the broad head better than two feet in sharpened width.
"You are a brilliant foe," said I. "I have admired your strategies, your efficiency and skills. The rally at the camp, misdirecting our attention by diversion, was masterful. That you should stand first among such beasts as Kurii says much for your worth, the terribleness of your power, your intellect. Though I am only human, neither Kur nor Priest King, I give you salute."
"I wish," it said, "Tarl Cabot, that I had know you better."
It stood there, then, the ax in its right fist. Telima, eyes wide with horror, screamed. With his left paw the beast brushed her, rolling and sprawling, twenty feet across the stone. It lifted the ax, now over its right shoulder, gripping it in both hands.
"Had you known me better," said I, "you would not have come to the skerry."
The ax drew back to the termination of its arc, read for the flashing, circular, flattish sweep that would cut me in two. Then the beast stopped, puzzled. Scarcely had it seen the flash of Tuchuk steel, the saddle knife, its blade balanced, nine inches in length, which had slipped from my sleeve, turned, and hurled, struck him. It tottered, eyes wild, not understanding, then understanding, the hilt protruding from its chest, stopped only by the guard, the blade fixed in the vast eight-valved heart. It took two steps forward. Then it fell, the ax clattering on the stone. It rolled on its back. Long ago, at a banquet in Turia, Kamchak of the Tuchuks had taught me this trick. Where one may not go armed, there it is well to go armed.
The huge chest shook. I saw it rise and fall. Its eyes turned toward me. "I thought," it said, "humans were honorable."
"You are mistaken," I said.
It reached out its paw toward me. "Foe," it said. "Yes," I said. The paw gripped me, and I it. Long ago in the Sardar, Misk the Priest King, had told me that Priest Kings see little difference between Kurii and men, that they regarded them as equivalent species. The lips of the Kur drew back. I saw the fangs. It was, I suppose, a frightening expression, but I did not see it that way.
It was a Kur smile.
Then it died.
Editor's Note
This page is an on-going project and will be updated as time allows.
Special Note
Because of the differences in publishing the books, depending upon whether published in the U.S. or Europe, depending upon whether a first publishing or a Masquerade Books release, page numbers will often vary. All of my quotes are from original, first-printing U.S. publications (see The Books page for a listing of publishers and dates) with the exception of the following books:
- Tarnsman of Gor (2nd Printing, Balantine)
- Outlaw of Gor (11th Printing, Balantine)
- Priest-Kings of Gor (2nd Printing, Balantine)
- Assassin of Gor (10th Printing, Balantine)
- Raiders of Gor (15th Printing, Balantine)
- Captive of Gor (3rd Printing, Balantine)
Disclaimer
These pages are not written for any specific home, but rather as informational pages for those not able to get ahold of the books and read them yourself. Opinions and commentaries are strictly my own personal views, therefore, if you don't like what you are reading — then don't. The information in these pages is realistic to what is found within the books. Many sites have added information, assuming the existences of certain products and practices, such as willowbark and agrimony for healing, and travel to earth and back for the collection of goods. I've explored the books, the flora, the fauna, and the beasts, and have compiled from those mentioned, the probabilities of certain practices, and what vegetation mentioned in the books is suitable for healing purposes, as well as given practicalities to other sorts of roleplaying assumptions.