Vanity and Pride

"How vain is he? How skillful is he? He would be both skillful and vain; he was Tuchuk." — Nomads of Gor, page 25

The Wagon Peoples are a vain people, and it is this vanity that vanity their pride…

"The Wagon Peoples … are among the proudest of the peoples of Gor, regarding the dwellers of the cities of Gor as vermin in holes, cowards who must fly behind walls, wretches who fear to live beneath the broad sky, who dare not dispute with them the open, windswept plains of their world." — Nomads of Gor, page 4.

Virtues: Honor and Courage

The Wagon Peoples consider courage to be the primary and most important virtue in a man, and in facing true courage, the warrior of the Wagon Peoples bestows honor.

He threw back his head and laughed. He slapped his thigh. "A Koroban! And he flies to the Wagon Peoples!" Tears of mirth ran from the sides of his eyes. "You are a fool" he said.
       "Let us fight," I suggested.
       Angrily the Tuchuk pulled back on the reins of the kaiila, causing it to rear, snarling, pawing at the sky.
       "And willingly would I do so, Koroban sleen," he spit out. "Pray thou to Priest-Kings that the lance does not fall to me!"
       I did not understand this.
       He turned his kaiila and in a bound or two swung it about in the midst of his fellows.
       Then the Kassar approached me. "Koroban," said he, "did you not fear our lances?"
       "I did," I said.
       "But you did not show your fear," said he. I shrugged. "Yet," said he, "you tell me you feared." There was wonder on his face. I looked away. "That," said the rider, "speaks to me of courage."
       We studied each other for a moment, sizing one another up. Then he said, "Though you are a dweller of cities, a vermin of the walls, I think you are not unworthy, and thus I pray the lance will fall to me." He turned his mount back to his fellows. — Nomads of Gor, page 19.
       As I watched, the Tuchuk took his long, slender lance and thrust it into the ground, point upward. Then, slowly, the four riders began to walk their mounts about the lance, watching it, right hands free to seize it should it begin to fall. The wind seemed to rise. In their way I knew they were honoring me, that they had respected my stand in the matter of the charging lances, that now they were gambling to see who would fight me, to whose weapons my blood must flow, beneath the paws of whose kaiila I must fall bloodied to the earth. I watched the lance tremble in the shaking earth, and saw the intentness of the riders as they watched its slightest movement. It would soon fall. — Nomads of Gor, page 19.

Pride and Honor

The Wagon Peoples are prideful folk, and hold honor with importance. The Tuchuks are no exception. Too, the Tuchuk warrior is known for his vanity. Let us journey into the books for a bit, and see a story unfold, a story which begins with a wealthy free woman of Turia being openly and bemusedly rude to the visiting Tuchuks.

Aphris looked about her. She lifted her head, and I could see the lovely line of her nose beneath the veil of white silk trimmed with gold. She sniffed twice. Then she clapped her little gloved hands two times and the feast steward rushed to her side. "I smell bosk dung," she said. — Nomads of Gor, page 94.
       She looked about, and then it seemed she saw Kamchak. "Ah!" she said, "I see—a Tuchuk—of course."
       Kamchak, though sitting cross-legged, seemed to bounce twice on the cushions, slapping the small table, rattling dishes for a dozen feet on either side. He was roaring with laughter. "Superb!" he cried. — Nomads of Gor, page 94.

Good natured soul, isn't Kamchak? Let us visit a bit more…

She turned to Kamchak. "It seems we have met before," she said.
       "Two years ago," said Kamchak, "in such a place at such a time you recall it was then you called me a Tuchuk sleen."
       "I seem to recall," said Aphris, as though trying very hard to do so.
       "I had brought you a five-belt necklace of diamonds," said Kamchak, "for I had heard you were beautiful."
       "Oh," said Aphris, "yes—I gave it to one of my slaves."
       Kamchak slapped the table in merriment again. "It was then," he said, "that you turned away, calling me a Tuchuk sleen."
       "Oh, yes!" laughed Aphris.
       "And it was then," said Kamchak, still laughing, "that I vowed I would make you my slave."
       Aphris stopped laughing. Saphrar was speechless. There was no sound at the tables. Kamras, Champion of the City of Turia, rose to his feet. — Nomads of Gor, page 94.

Hmmmm. It seems Kamchak's "joke" was not so well received by the Turians…

"Bring perfumes"" she called to the feast steward, and he sent forth the camisk-clad slave who carried the tiny tray of exotic Turian perfumes. She took one or two of these small bottles and held them under her nose, and then sprinkled them about the table and cushions. Her actions delighted the Turians, who laughed.
       Kamchak now was still smiling, but he no longer laughed. "For that," he said, smiling, "you will spend your first night in the dung sack."
       Again Aphris laughed merrily and was joined by those of the banquet. The fists of Kamras were clenched on the table. — Nomads of Gor, page 95.
       The girl turned to Saphrar. "Perhaps the barbarians would care to be entertained," she suggested.
       I was puzzled at this, for throughout much of the evening there had been entertainment, the jugglers, the acrobats, the fellow who swallowed fire to music, the magician, the man with the dancing sleen.
       Saphrar was looking down. He was angry. "Perhaps," he said.
       Aphris now turned to me. She gestured to the ladies at the tables, with their escorts. "Are the women of Turia not beautiful?" she asked.
       "Indeed," I admitted, for there were none present who were not, in their own ways, beautiful.
       She laughed, for some reason. "In my city," I said, "free women would not permit themselves to be seen unveiled before strangers." — Nomads of Gor, page 95-96.
       Then, to my surprise, the girl clapped her hands sharply twice and the women about the table stood, arid together, from both sides, moved swiftly to stand before us between the tables. The drums and flutes of the musicians sounded, and to my amazement the first girl, with a sudden, graceful swirl of her body lifted away her robes and flung them high over the heads of the guests to cries of delight. She stood facing us, beautiful, knees flexed, breathing deeply, arms lifted over her head, ready for the dance. Each of the women I had thought free did the same, until each stood before us, a collared slave girl clad only the diaphanous, scarlet dancing silks of Gor. To the barbaric music they danced. — Nomads of Gor, page 96.

Ah! The Lady Aphris has enjoyed her game at the expense of the Tuchuks…

Kamchak was angry… Kamchak's fists were clenched on the table, for no Tuchuk likes to be fooled. — Nomads of Gor, page 96
       No Tuchuk, I knew, cares to be the butt of a joke, especially a Turian joke. — Nomads of Gor, page 97.

It's not nice to fool… a Tuchuk… or make him look like a fool. Paybacks can be quite… expensive.

"What is in the box?" asked Aphris of Turia, as she saw Kamchak pick up the small black box which, throughout the banquet, he had kept at his right knee. The girl was clearly curious, female. Kamchak shrugged.
       But, I could see, she was interested in the box. Indeed, at certain times during the evening, I had seen her casting furtive glances at it.
       "It is nothing," said Kamchak, "only a trinket."
       "But is it for someone?" she asked.
       "I had thought," said Kamchak, "that I might give it to you."
       "Oh" asked Aphris, clearly intrigued.
       "Likely you would not like it," He said.
       "How do you know," she said, rather airily, "I have not seen it."
       "I will take it home with me," said Kamchak.
       "If you wish," she said.
       "But you may have it if you wish," he said.
       "Is it other," she asked, "than a mere necklace of diamonds?" Aphris of Turia was no fool. She knew that the Wagon Peoples, plunderers of hundreds of caravans, occasionally possessed objects and riches as costly as any on Gor.
       "Yes," said Kamchak, "it is other than a necklace of diamonds."
       "Ah!" she said. I then suspected that she had not actually given the five-string diamond necklace to a slave. Undoubtedly it still reposed in one of her several chests of jewelry.
       "But you would not like it," said Kamchak, diffidently. "Perhaps I might," she said.
       "No," said Kamchak, "you would not like it."
       "You brought it for me, did you not?" she said. — Nomads of Gor, pages 99-100.

Greedy little thing, isn't she? Let us continue on…

Kamchak shrugged and looked down at the box in his hand. "Yes," he said, "I brought it for you." The box was about the size in which a necklace, perhaps on black velvet, might be displayed.
       "I want it," said Aphris of Turia.
       "Truly?" asked Kamchak. "Do you want it?"
       "Yes," said Aphris. "Give it to met"
       "Very well," said Kamchak, "but I must ask to place it on you myself."
       Kamras, the Champion of Turia, half rose from his position. "Bold Tuchuk sleen!" he hissed.
       "Very well," said Aphris of Turia. "You may place it on me yourself."
       So then Kamchak bent down to where Aphris of Turia knelt, her back straight, her head very high, before the low table. He stepped behind her and she lifted her chin delicately. Her eyes were shining with curiosity. I could see the quickness of her breath marked in the soft silk of her white and gold veil.
       "Now," said Aphris.
       Kamchak then opened the box. When Aphris heard the delicate click of the box lid it was all she could do not to turn and regard the prize that was to be hers, but she did not do so. She remained looking away, only lifting her chin a bit more.
       "Now!" said Aphris of Turia, trembling with anticipation. — Nomads of Gor, page 100.

Demanding too, she is…

What happened then was done very swiftly. Kamchak lifted from the box an object indeed intended to grace the throat of a girl. But it was a round metal ring, a Turian collar, the collar of a slave. There was a firm snap of the heavy lock in the back of the collar and the throat of Aphris of Turia had been encircled with slave steel! At the same instant Kamchak lifted her startled to her feet and turned her to face him, with both hands tearing the veil from her face! Then, before any of the startled Turians could stop him, he had purchased by his audacity a bold kiss from the lips of the astounded Aphris of Turia! Then he hurled her from him across and over the low table until she fell to the floor where Tuchuk slaves had danced for her pleasure. The quiva, appearing as if by magic in his hand, warned back those who would press in upon him to revenge the daughter of their city. I stood beside Kamchak, ready to defend him with my life, yet as startled as any in the room at what had been done.
       The girl now had struggled to her knees tearing at the collar. Her tiny gloved fingers were locked in it, pulling at it, as though by brute force she would tear it from her throat. Kamchak was looking at her. "Beneath your robes of white and gold," he said, "I smelled the body of a slave girl."
       "Sleen! Sleen! Sleen!" she cried.
       "Replace your veil!" ordered Saphrar.
       "Remove the collar immediately," commanded Kamras, plenipotentiary of Phanius Turmus, Administrator of Turia.
       Kamchak smiled. "It seems," he said, "that I have forgotten the key."
       "Send for one of the Caste of Metal Workers!" cried Saphrar.
       There were cries on all sides, "Slay the Tuchuk sleen!"
       "Torture for him!" "The oil of tharlarions!" "Leech plants!"
       "Impalement!" "Tongs and fire!" But Kamchak seemed unmoved. And none rushed upon him, for in his hand, and he was Tuchuk, there gleamed the quiva.
       "Slay him!" screamed Aphris of Turia, "Slay him!"
       "Replace your veil," repeated Saphrar to the girl. "Have you no shame?"
       The girl attempted to rearrange the folds of the veil, but could only hold it before her face, for Kamchak had ripped away the pins by which it was customarily fastened. Her eyes were wild with fury and tears. He, a Tuchuk, had looked upon her face. I was pleased, though I would not have admitted it, at Kamchak's boldness, for it was a face for which a man might risk much, even death in the torture dungeons of Turia, utterly beautiful though now, of course, transformed with rage, far more beautiful than had been that of the most beautiful of the slave girls who had served us or given us of the beauty of their dances.
       "You recall, of course," Kamchak was saying, "that I am an ambassador of the Wagon Peoples and am entitled to the courtesies of your city."
       "Impale him!" cried a number of voices.
       "It is a joke," cried out Saphrar. "A joke! A Tuchuk joke!"
       "Slay him!" screamed Aphris of Turia. But no one would move against the quiva.
       "Now, gentle Aphris," Saphrar was purring, "you must be calm — soon one from the Caste of Metal Workers will appear to free you - all will be well - return to your own chambers."
       "No!" screamed Aphris. "The Tuchuk must be slain!"
       "It is not possible, my dear," wheezed Saphrar.
       "You are challenged!" said Kamras, spitting to the floor at Kamchak's booted feet.
       For an instant I saw Kamchak's eyes gleam and thought he might at the very table at which he stood accept the challenge of the Champion of Turia, but instead, he shrugged and grinned. "Why should I fight?" he asked.
       It did not sound like Kamchak speaking.
       "You are a coward!" cried Kamras.
       I wondered if Kamras knew the meaning of the word which he had dared to address to one who wore the Courage Scar of the Wagon Peoples. But to my amazement, Kamchak only smiled. "Why should I fight?" he asked. — Nomads of Gor, pages 99-102.

A Tuchuk turn down a fight? Seems the wily one is up to something…

"What do you mean?" demanded Kamras.
       "What is to be gained?" inquired Kamchak.
       "Aphris of Turia!" cried the girl. There were cries of horror, or protest, from the men crowded about. "Yes!" cried Aphris of Turia. "If you will meet Kamras, Champion of Turia, I — Aphris of Turia — will stand at the stake in Love War!"
       Kamchak looked at her. "I will fight," he said.
       There was a silence in the room. I saw Saphrar, a bit in the background, close his eyes and nod his head. "Wily Tuchuk," I heard him mutter. Yes, I said to myself, wily Tuchuk. Kamchak had, by means of the very pride of Aphris of Turia, of Kamras, and the offended Turians, brought the girl by her own will to the stake of Love War. It was something he would not buy with the golden sphere from Saphrar the merchant; it was something he was clearly capable of arranging, with Tuchuk cunning, by himself. I supposed, naturally, however, that Saphrar, guardian of Aphris of Turia, would not permit this to occur. — Nomads of Gor, pages 102-103.

The moral to that story is… well, you figure it out. :)

 

 

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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.