The Annals of Gor

"The Wagon Peoples, it is said, slay strangers." — Nomads of Gor, page 9

Four Distinct Tribes

So, who are the Wagon Peoples — and what do they look like? They are comprised of four (4) tribes: the Kassars, the Kataii, the Paravaci and the Tuchuks. Not much is spoken of with regards to the Kassars, Kataii and Paravaci tribes, but it can be assumed that much of their customs and beliefs are similar and/or exact to those of the Tuchuks.

"And there were four Wagon Peoples, the Paravaci, the Kataii, the Kassars, and the dreaded Tuchuk." — Nomads of Gor, page 9.

The Kassars are also referred to as the Blood People. The standard of the Kassar is a scarlet three-weighted bola which hangs from a lance. The brand of the Kassar is a representation of a bola, three (3) circles joined at the center; this brand is used on both bosk and slaves.

"The third rider placed himself, reining in suddenly, pulling the mount to its hind legs, and it reared snarling against the bit, and then stood still, its neck straining toward me. I could see the long, triangular tongue in the animal's head, behind the four rows of fangs. The rider, too, wore a wind scarf. His shield was red. The Blood People, the Kassars." — Nomads of Gor, page 14.

"The standard of the Kassars is that of a scarlet, three-weighted bola, which hangs from a lance; the symbolic representation of a bola, three circles joined at the center by lines, is used to mark their bosk and slaves…" — Nomads of Gor, page 106.

The Kataii are the only tribe of the Wagon People whose race is negroid. The standard is that of a yellow bow bound across a black lance. The brand is also that of a bow, facing to the left.

"The second rider had halted there. He was dressed much as the first man, except that no chain depended from his helmet, but his wind scarf was wrapped about his face. His shield was lacquered yellow, and his bow was yellow. Over his shoulder he, too, carried one of the slender lances. He was a black. Kataii, I said to myself." — Nomads of Gor, page 14.

"… the standard of the Kataii is a yellow bow, bound across a black lance; their brand is also that of a bow, facing to the left… " — Nomads of Gor, page 106.

The Paravaci, also called the Rich People, are perhaps the most vain. Their standard is that of a bosk head shaped by beadings jewels and gold wire. The brand of the Paravaci is representative of the bosk head, a semi-circle which rests on an inverted isosceles triangle.

"The fourth rider was dressed in a hood and cape of white fur. He wore a flopping cap of white fur, which did not conceal the conical outlines of the steel beneath it. The leather of his jerkin was black. The buckles on his belt of gold. His lance had a rider hook under the point, with which he might dismount opponents. About the neck of the fourth rider there was a broad belt of jewels, as wide as my hand. I gathered that this was ostentation. Actually I was later to learn that the jeweled belt is worn to incite envy and accrue enemies; its purpose is to encourage attack, that the owner may try the skill of his weapons, that he need not tire himself seeking for foes. I knew, though, from the belt, though I first misread its purpose, that the owner was of the Paravaci, the Rich People, richest of the wagon dwellers." — Nomads of Gor, page 14.

"… the Paravaci standard is a large banner of jewels beaded on golden wires, forming the head and horns of a bosk its value is incalculable; the Paravaci brand is a symbolic representation of a bosk head, a semicircle resting on an inverted isosceles triangle." — Nomads of Gor, page 106.

The Tuchuks often called the Wily Ones, are considered the most dreaded of all of the four wagon tribes. Their standard is that of four bosk horns, and their brand is the representation of four bosk horns.

"Kamchak rode near the head of the Tuchuk line. The standard bearer, holding aloft on a lance a representation of the four bosk horns, carved from wood, rode near us." — Nomads of Gor, page 105.

"I supposed that on the morrow Kamchak would call for the Tuchuk Iron Master, to brand what he called his little barbarian; the brand of the Tuchuk slave, incidentally, is not the same as that generally used in the cities. which or girls, is the first letter of the expression Kajira in cursive script. but the sign of the four bosk horns that of the Tuchuk standard; the brand of the four bosk horns, set in such a manner as to somewhat resemble the letter "H" is only about an inch high; the common Gorean brand, on the other hand, is usually an inch and a half to two inches high; the brand of the four bosk horns, of course, is also used to mark the bosk of the Tuchuks, but there, of course, it is much larger, forming roughly a six-inch square; following the branding, I supposed that Kamchak would have one of the tiny nose rings affixed; all Tuchuk females, slave or free, wear such rings…" — Nomads of Gor, page 62.

There is much debate as to what ethnic similarity to a particular Earth culture the Wagon Peoples are. Most are in agreement that the Tuchuks, for instance, are Mongols based on the following quote:

"Now the rider in front of me lifted the colored chains from his helmet, that I might see his face. It was a white face, but heavy, greased; the epicanthic fold of his eyes bespoke a mixed origin" — Nomads of Gor, page 15.

Epicanthic folds are simply, folds around the eyes. Many cultures can "lay claim" to epicanthic folds, the obvious ones, such as the Native Americans, the Oriental, the Mongolians, the Eskimo, the Peruvians, all of which are also, nomadics even on Earth, but there is also the not so obvious ones: Italians, Spaniards, Turks, Greeks, et al.

Also, If one looks closely at the quote above, it says, "his eyes bespoke a mixed origin." When you pick apart the sentence structurally, this says that the Tuchuks normally do not have epicanthic folds, but because Kamchak himself is of a mixed heritage, that is why he has such folds. We learn later in Nomads of Gor, that, in fact, Kamchak is half-Turian. Perhaps the Turians are the truly the peoples with the epicanthic folds? Hmmm. Let's look further…

"Why is it," I asked Harold, "that he spared Turia?"
       "His mother was Turian," said Harold.
       I stopped.
       "Did you not know?" asked Harold.
       I shook my head. "No," I said. "I did not know."
       Kamchak was now well in advance of us. Harold looked at me. "Yes," he said, "she had been a Turian girl taken as slave by Kutaituchik but he cared for her and freed her. She remained with him in the wagons until her death the Ubar of the Tuchuks." — Nomads of Gor, page 339.

I happened upon another quote during my research of the books and found this rather interesting tidbit.

"I understand little of this," said the young khan of the Tajuks. He carried a leather, black, lacquered buckler on his left arm, a slim, black, tem-wood lance in his right hand. At his side hung a scimitar, He wore a turban, and a burnoose, with the hood thrown back over his shoulders. His eyes, sharp and black, bore the epicanthic fold. At his saddle hung a conical steel helmet, oddly fashioned with a rim of fur encircling it, bespeaking a tradition in armory whose origin did not seem likely to be the Tahari. — Tribesmen of Gor, page 306.

A desert tribe with a name eerily similar to the Tuchuks … also bears an epicanthic fold. The concensus is that the desert tribes are the counterparts to the middle-eastern peoples of the Arab nations. This might bring conjecture, then, that the desert tribes are Mongols too? Or, that the Tajuks and the Tuchuks were once upon a time the same people who split apart? Hmmmm…

Well, then later we learn the physical description of Kutaituchik, and of course, later learn that he is Kamchak's father. Therefore, we can conclude that indeed, the Tuchuks (or at least Kutaituchik) have yellowish-brown flesh color and epicanthic folds of the eyes.

"Kutaituchik lifted his head and regarded us; his eyes seemed sleepy; he was bald, save for a black knot of hair that emerged from the back of his shaven skull; he was a broad-backed man, with small legs; his eyes bore the epicanthic fold; his skin was a tinged, yellowish brown; though he was stripped to the waist, there was about his shoulders a rich, ornamented robe of the red bosk, bordered with jewels; about his neck, on a chain decorated with sleen teeth, there hung a golden medallion, bearing the sign of the four bosk horns; he wore furred boots, wide leather trousers, and a red sash, in which was thrust a quiva. Beside him, coiled, perhaps as a symbol of power, lay a bosk whip. Kutaituchik absently reached into a small golden box near his right knee and drew out a string of rolled kanda leaf." — Nomads of Gor, page 43.

However, later, upon the description of Harold, we learn that although rare, some Tuchuks are actually fair of skin. And, according to one of the quotes, there was a Year Keeper who had recalled Harold's family. Perhaps the Tuchuks at one time were actually Alar and then later was divided? Interesting, I think, to speculate such.

"Among the Tuchuks, though dismounted, I saw the young man Harold, he whom Hereena of the First Wagon had so sorely insulted at the time of the wagering with Conrad and Albrecht. I did not, however, see the girl. The young man seemed to me a strong, fine fellow, though of course unscarred. He had, as I mentioned, blond hair and blue eyes, not unknown among the Tuchuks, but unusual." — Nomads of Gor, page 113.

"There had been, fortunately for him, a Year Keeper who had recalled the family." — Nomads of Gor, page 68.

Interestingly, ancient Mongolians were well-known for their milk-curd fermenting techniques! The Tuchuks are famous for their fondness for fermented milk-curds.

In my research journeys, I found much on the various Earth nomadics in history. Although not totally true to the people known as the Avar, the Huns, the Mongols, et al, much about these peoples (as well as others) are very similar to the nomadic groups on Gor. Detailed information can be found on the Nomads of Earth page.

Language and Literacy

The Wagon Peoples speak a dialect of Gorean. Most are not literate, although there are those that are. An untrusting lot, holding sacred their histories, stories, and other important matters, parchment and papers would not be found amongst them. Rather, these people have excellent memories, trained at birth to exemplify such memories, matters of important are committed to memory. In this way, the Wagon Peoples are much more similar to our ancient ancestors, also known for their superior memory capabilities.

"I knew they spoke a dialect of Gorean, and I hoped I would be able to understand them." — Nomads of Gor, page 9.

"The Wagon Peoples do not trust important matters, such as year names, to paper or parchment, subject to theft, insect and rodent damage, deterioration, etc. Most of those of the Wagon Peoples have excellent memories, trained from birth. Few can read, though some can, perhaps having acquired the skill far from the wagons, perhaps from merchants or tradesmen. The Wagon Peoples, as might be expected, have a large and complex oral literature." — Nomads of Gor, page 12 (footnote).

"She could speak Gorean but she could not read it. For that matter many Tuchuks could not, and the engraving on the collars of their slaves was often no more than a sign which was known to be theirs. Even those who could read, or pretended to be able to, would affix their sign on the collar as well as their name, so that others who could not read could know to whom the slave belonged. Kamchak's sign was the four bosk horns and two quivas." — Nomads of Gor, page 279.

Interestingly, often Earth names are found to be quite complex in linguistic nature.

Kamchak had never been able to pronounce her name, which be regarded as of barbarian length and complexity. "E-liz-a-beth-card-vella" he would try to say, adding the "a" sound because it is a common ending of feminine names on Gor. He could never, like most native speakers of Gorean, properly handle the "w" sound, for it is extremely rare in Gorean, existing only in certain unusual words of obviously barbarian origin. The "w" sound, incidentally, is a complex one, and, like many such sounds, is best learned only during the brief years of childhood when a child's linguistic flexibility is at its maximum those years in which it might be trained to speak any of the languages of man with native fluency a capacity which is, for most individuals at least, lost long prior to attaining their majority. On the other hand, Kamchak could say the sound I have represented as "vella" quite easily and would upon occasion use this as Elizabeth's name. — Nomads of Gor, pages 173-174.

Heirarchy of the Wagons

The four tribes are each governed by their own Ubar. The Ubar's wagon, as well as several other wagons in his personal household, are collectively known as the First Wagon; the people living in these wagons, unrelated to the Ubar generally, known as being of the First Wagon.

"What does it mean to be of the First Wagon?" I asked.
       Kamchak laughed. "You know little of the Wagon Peoples," he said.
       "That is true," I admitted.
       "To be of the First Wagon," said Kamchak, "is to be of the household of Kutaituchik."
       I repeated the name slowly, trying to sound it out. It is pronounced in four syllables, divided thus: Ku-tai-tu-chik.
       "He then is the Ubar of the Tuchuks?" I said.
       "His wagon," smiled Kamchak, "is the First Wagon and it is Kutaituchik who sits upon the gray robe."
       "The gray robe?" I asked.
       "That robe," said Kamchak, "which is the throne of the Ubars of the Tuchuks."
       It was thus I first learned the name of the man whom I understood to be Ubar of this fierce people.
       "There are a hundred wagons in the personal household of Kutaituchik," said Kamchak. 'No be of any of these wagons is to be of the First Wagon."
       "I see," I said. "And the girl she on the kaiila is perhaps the daughter of Kutaituchik, Ubar of the Tuchuks?"
       "No," said Kamchak. "She is unrelated to him, as are most in the First Wagon." — Nomads of Gor, pages 32-33.

Of course, later we learn that it was not Kutaituchik who was Ubar, but that he was rather a decoy, something that is often done amongst the Wagon Peoples. Kamchak, we learn, was the real Ubar.

The Tuchuk then looked around himself, sadly, and then again gazed on the sitting, bent-over figure of Kutaituchik. Suddenly tears seemed to burst from Kamchak's eyes and his fists were clenched. "He was a great man!" cried Kamchak. "Once he was a great man." I nodded. I knew Kutaituchik, of course, only as the huge,somnolent mass of man who sat cross-legged on a robe of gray boskhide, his eyes dreaming. Suddenly Kamchak cried out in rage and seized up the golden kanda box and hurled it away. "There will now have to be a new Ubar of the Tuchuks," I said, softly.
       Kamchak turned and faced me. "No," he said.
       "Kutaituchik," I said, "is dead."
       Kamchak regarded me evenly. "Kutaituchik," he said, �was not Ubar of the Tuchuks."
       "I don't understand," I said.
       "He was called Ubar of the Tuchuks," said Kamchak, "but he was not Ubar."
       "How can this be?" I asked.
       "We Tuchuks are not such fools as Turians would believe," said Kamchak. "It was for such a night as this that Kutaituchik waited in the Wagon of the Ubar."
       I shook my head in wonder.
       "He wanted it this way," said Kamchak. "He would have it no other." Kamchak wiped his arm across his eyes. "He said it was now all he was good for, for this and for nothing else."
       It was a brilliant strategy. "Then the true Ubar of the Tuchuks is not slain," I said.
       "No," said Kamchak.
       "Who knows who the Ubar truly is?" I asked.
       "The Warriors know," said Kamchak. "The warriors."
       "Who is Ubar of the Tuchuks?" I asked.
       "I am," said Kamchak. — Nomads of Gor, pages 179-180.

The four tribes of the Wagon Peoples historically war among themselves. However, every two years, the peoples of all four tribes gather for what is known as the Omen Year. It is during this time that the lands are truce ground, the games of the Love Wars are played between Wagon Peoples and Turians, and haruspexes diligently read omens (the Omen Taking) to determine the favorability of choosing a Ubar San, which is the term for the High Ubar who governs all four tribes.

"The Wagon Peoples war among themselves, but once in every two hands of years, there is a time of gathering of the peoples, and this, I had learned, was that time. In the thinking of the Wagon Peoples it is called the Omen Year… It is near Turia, in the spring, that the Omen Year is completed, when the omens are taken usually over several days by hundreds of haruspexes, mostly readers of bosk blood and verr livers, to determine if they are favorable for a choosing of a Ubar San, a One Ubar, a Ubar who .would be High Ubar, a Ubar of an the Wagons, a Ubar of all the Peoples, one who could lead them as one people." — Nomads of Gor, pages 11-12.

However, we learn that the Wagon Peoples have not elected a Ubar San for more than one hundred years, each tribe fiercely independent.

"But, I then reminded myself even more strongly, there would be no choice there had been no Ubar San for a hundred years or more the Wagon Peoples, fierce and independent, did not wish a Ubar San." — Nomads of Gor, pages 146-147.

Directly beneath the Ubar is the Commander of a Thousand. There can be more than one Commander of a Thousand in a tribe.

I was astonished when, at the gate to the palace of Phanius Turmus, the four Tuchuk guards smote their lances three times on their leather shields. The lance strikes the shield once for the commander of a Ten; twice for the commander of a Hundred; three times for the commander of a Thousand. "Pass, Commanders," said the chief of the four guards, and they stepped aside. Naturally I inquired of Harold, shortly after entering, the meaning of the guards' salutation. I had expected to be challenged and then perhaps, if all went well, wrangled inside on some stratagem dreamed up by Harold on the spur of, the moment.
       "It means," remarked Harold, looking about the courtyard, "that you have the rank of a Commander of a Thousand."
       "I don't understand," I said.
       "It is a gift of Kamchak," said Harold. "I suggested it as appropriate in view of your manly, if somewhat clumsy, efforts at the gate."
       "Thank you," I said.
       "I of course recommended the same rank for myself," said Harold, "inasmuch as I am the one who really carried the thing off."
       "Naturally," I said.
       "You do not, of course, have a Thousand to command," pointed out Harold.
       "Nonetheless," I said, "there is considerable power in the rank itself."
       "That is true," he said.
       Indeed it was true, for the next level beneath a Ubar among the Wagon Peoples is that of the Commander of a Thousand. — Nomads of Gor, page 250-251.

Scar Codes

Courage, trust, loyalty, and honor, are important traits in the lives of the Wagon Peoples. To denote honor amongst its members of society, crude scars are worked into the flesh of men. The only colors of scars mentioned in the book, are as follows: "The man facing me had seven such scars ceremonially worked into the tissue of his countenance, the highest being red, the next yellow, the next blue, the fourth black, then two yellow, then black again" (Nomads, page 16.). The only scar that is fully described, is that of the red scar, the scar of Courage. The remaining three colors of scars, we are left to guess. It is inferred, however, that the scars all hold different meanings to each tribe. The Courage scar is mentioned to be of most import among the Tuchuks, of social, economic and marital importance.

The man behind me called out, speaking Gorean with a harsh accent. "I am Tolnus of the Paravaci." Then he shook away his hood, letting his long hair stream behind him over the white fur of the collar. I stood stock still, seeing the face.
       From my left came a cry. "I am Conrad, he of the Kassars." He threw the chain mask from his face, back over the helmet and laughed. Were they of Earth stock, I asked myself. Were they men?
       From my right there came a great laugh. "I am Hakimba of the Kataii," he roared. He pulled aside the wind scarf with one hand, and his face, though black, bore the same marks as the others.
       Now the rider in front of me lifted the colored chains from his helmet, that I might see his face. It was a white face, but heavy, greased; the epicanthic fold of his eyes bespoke a mixed origin. — Nomads of Gor, page 15.

I was looking on the faces of four men, warriors of the Wagon Peoples. On the face of each there were, almost like corded chevrons, brightly colored scars. The vivid coloring and intensity of these scars, their prominence, reminded me of the hideous markings on the faces of mandrills; but these disfigurements, as I soon recognized, were cultural not congenital, and bespoke not the natural innocence of the work of genes but the glories and status, the arrogance and prides, of their bearers. The scars had been worked into the faces, with needles and knives and pigments and the dung of bosks over a period of days and nights. Men had died in the fixing of such scars. Most of the scars were set in pairs, moving diagonally down from the side of the head toward the nose and chin. The man facing me had seven such scars ceremonially worked into the tissue of his countenance, the highest being red, the next yellow, the next blue, the fourth black, then two yellow, then black again. The faces of the men I saw were all scarred differently, but each was scarred. The effect of the scars, ugly, startling, terrible, perhaps in part calculated to terrify enemies, had even prompted me, for a wild moment, to conjecture that what I faced on the Plains of Turia were not men, but perhaps aliens of some sort, brought to Gor long ago from remote worlds to serve some now discharged or forgotten purpose of Priest-Kings; but now I knew better; now I could see them as men; and now, more significantly, I recalled what I had heard whispered of once before, in a tavern in Ar, the terrible Scar Codes of the Wagon Peoples, for each of the hideous marks on the face of these men had a meaning, a significance that could be read by the Paravaci, the Kassars, the Kataii, the Tuchuks as clearly as you or I might read a sign in a window or a sentence in a book. At that time I could read only the top scar, the red, bright, fierce cordlike scar that was the Courage Scar. It is always the highest scar on the face. Indeed, without that scar, no other scar can be granted. The Wagon Peoples value courage above all else. Each of the men facing me wore that scar." — Nomads of Gor, pages 15-16.

The importance of the Courage Scar, at least among the Tuchuks, is foremost and profound. Without the Courage Scar, a man may not wed or own a wagon, as well as own only a handful of bosk and kaiila. And, such a man falls under the scorn of even the women of the camp and often ridiculed.

"Among the Tuchuks, though dismounted, I saw the young man Harold … He carried weapons. He could not, of course, compete in these contests, for there is status involved in these matters and only warriors of repute are permitted to participate. Indeed, without the Courage Scar one could not even think of proposing oneself for the competition. It might be mentioned, incidentally, that without the Courage Scar one may not, among the Tuchuks, pay court to a free woman, own a wagon, or own more than five bosk and three kaiila. The Courage Scar thus has its social and economic, as well as its martial, import." — Nomads of Gor, page 113.

"Slave!" she hissed.
       He looked up angrily. "I am not a slave," he said. "I am Tuchuk."
       "Turian slave!" she laughed scornfully. "Beneath your furs you wear, I wager, the Kes!"
       "I am Tuchuk," he responded, looking angrily away.
       Kamchak had told me of the young man. Among the wagons he was nothing. He did what work he could, helping with the bosk, for a piece of meat from a cooking pot. He was called Harold, which is not a Tuchuk name, nor a name used among the Wagon Peoples, though it is similar to some of the Kassar names. It was an English name, but such are not unknown on Gor, having been passed down, perhaps, for more than a thousand years, the name of an ancestor, perhaps brought to Gor by Priest-Kings in what might have been the early Middle Ages of Earth. I knew the Voyages of Acquisition were of even much greater antiquity. I had determined, of course, to my satisfaction, having spoken with him once, that the boy, or young man, was indeed Gorean; his people and their people before them and as far back as anyone knew had been, as it is said, of the Wagons. The problem of the young man, and perhaps the reason that he had not yet won even the Courage Scar of the Tuchuks, was that he had fallen into the hands of Turian raiders in his youth and had spent several years in the city; in his adolescence he had, at great risk to himself, escaped from the city and made his way with great hardships across the plains to rejoin his people; they, of course, to his great disappointment, had not accepted him, regarding him as more Turian than Tuchuk. His parents and people had been slain in the Turian raid in which he had been captured, so he had no kin. There had been, fortunately for him, a Year Keeper who had recalled the family. Thus he had not been slain but had been allowed to remain with the Tuchuks. He did not have his own wagon or his own bosk. He did not even own a kaiila. He had armed himself with castoff weapons, with which he practiced in solitude. None of those, however, who led raids on enemy caravans or sorties against the city and its outlying fields, or retaliated upon their neighbors in the delicate matters of bosk stealing, would accept him in their parties. He had, to their satisfaction, demonstrated his prowess with weapons, but they would laugh at him. "You do not even own a kaiila," they would say. "You do not even wear the Courage Scar." I supposed that the young man would never be likely to wear the scar, without which, among the stern, cruel Tuchuks, he would be the continuous object of scorn, ridicule and contempt. Indeed, I knew that some among the wagons, the girl Hereena, for example, who seemed to bear him a great dislike, had insisted that he, though free, be forced to wear the Kes or the dress of a woman. Such would have been a great joke among the Tuchuks. — Nomads of Gor, pages 67-68.

And, too, although a warrior has "earned" a scar, such as the Courage Scar, these scars do not always have to be visible to the eye:

"All right," said Harold, "it is well known you are only a Koroban, and not a Tuchuk." But then he added, soldierly. "But you wear the Courage Scar for what you did not all men who wear the Courage Scar do so visibly." — Nomads of Gor, page 274.

Happily, we learn that later, Harold does, in fact, earn his Courage Scar.

"Harold and Kamchak looked up at me. There were tears in the eyes of both men. Now, diagonally, like a scarlet chevron coursing the flight of the cheek bones, there blazed on the face of Harold the Tuchuk the Courage Scar." — Nomads of Gor, page 343.

Wagon Peoples and Life

The Wagon Peoples are a happy lot for the most part, joking a part of their good nature, easily amused.

"Wily Kassar!" he laughed. This was a joke. Even I had to smile. The Tuchuks were commonly called the Wily Ones. — Nomads of Gor, page 75.

This struck fire in Aphris of Turia. She suddenly straightened indignantly and cried out. "Not I — not Aphris of Turia'!"
       "You,"said Kamchak.
       A serving slave to a barbarian!"
       "Yes," said Kamchak.
       "Never!" cried the girl.
       "Yes," roared Kamchak, throwing back his head and guffawing, "Aphris of Turia, in my wagon, will be a barbarian's serving slave!"
       The girl's fists were clenched.
       "And I shall see," said Kamchak, "that word of this reaches Turia'" He then bent over and started cracking his knees with his fists, so amused he was.
       Aphris of Turia trembled with rage before him.
       "Please," said Elizabeth, "come away." She tried to take Aphris by the arm.
       Aphris of Turia shrugged away her touch arrogantly, not wishing to feel her hand. But then, head in the air, she deigned to accompany Elizabeth from where we stood.
       "If she does not work well," called Kamchak cheerily, "beat her." — Nomads of Gor, pages 135-136.

And like Goreans of the cities, they are even courteous, displaying their manners, too, when at a public place.

"When I returned with the bottle I had to step through, over, and once or twice on, Tuchuks. Fortunately my clumsiness was not construed as a challenge. One fellow I stepped on was even polite enough to say, "Forgive me for sitting where you are stepping." In Tuchuk fashion, I assured him that I had taken no offense, and, sweating, I at last made my way to Kamchak's side. He had rather good seats, which hadn't been there before, obtained by the Tuchuk method of finding two individuals sitting closely together and then sitting down between them. — Nomads of Gor, page 154.

The Wagon Peoples generally are not swimmers (why not? talena swam under the grasses once *w*), although there are a few known to learn.

"Can you swim?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. Then I inquired, "How is it that you, a Tuchuk, can swim?" I knew few Tuchuks could, though some had learned in the Cartius.
"I learned in Turia,' said Harold, "in the public baths where I was once a slave." — Nomads of Gor, pages 187-188.

The Wagon Peoples, though a generally happy people, are also highly suspicious — not only of strangers — but of anything without absolute, positive physical proof. In the following, Tarl recounts how he killed the Master Assassin, Pa-Kur — but did he?

Kamchak nodded. "I have no quarrel with Ha-Reel, the mercenary," he said. Then Kamchak looked at me. "You, however," he said, "now that he knows of the stakes in these games, may meet him again. He draws his sword only in the name of gold, but I expect that now, Saphrar dead, those who employed the merchant may need new agents for their work — and that they will pay the price of a sword such as that of Ha-keel" Kamchak grinned at me, the first time since the death of Kutaituchik. "It is said," remarked Kamchak, "that the sword of Ha-Keel is scarcely less swift and cunning than that of Pa-Kur, the Master of Assassin."
       "Pa-Kur is dead," I said. "He died in the siege of Ar."
       "Was the body recovered?" asked Kamchak.
       "No," I said.
       Kamchak smiled. "I think, Tarl Cabot," he said. "you would never make a Tuchuk."
       �'Why is that?" I asked.
       "You are too innocent," he said, "too trusting."
       "Long ago," said Harold, nearby, "I gave up expecting more of a Koroban."
       I smiled. "Pa-Kur," I said, "defeated in personal combat on the high roof of the Cylinder of Justice in Ar, turned and to avoid capture threw himself over the ledge. I do not think he could fly."
       "Was the body recovered?" Kamchak asked again.
       "No," I said. "But what does it matter?"
       "It would matter to a Tuchuk," said Kamchak.
       "You Tuchuks are indeed a suspicion lot," I remarked.
       "What would have happened to the body?" asked Harold, and it seemed he was serious.
       "I suppose," I said, "it was torn to pieces by the crowds below or lost with the other dead. Many things could have happened to it."
       "It seems then," said Kamchak, "that he is dead."
       "Surely," I said.
       "Let us hope so," said Kamchak, "for your sake." — Nomads of Gor, pages 323-324.

In part, due to their suspicious nature, the Wagon Peoples often know more than what they speak or make seem.

"If you should ever need the Tuchuks' Tarl Cabot," said Kamchak, "or the Kataii or the Kassar — or the Paravaci — you have only to — speak and we will ride. We will ride to your side, be it even to the cities of Earth."
You know of Earth?" I asked. I recalled what I took to be the skepticism of Kamchak and Kutaituchik long ago when they had questioned myself and Elizabeth Cardwell of such matters.
Karnchak smiled. "We Tuchuks know of many things," he said, "Of more than we tell." He grinned. "Good fortune attend you, Tart Cabot, Commander of a Thousand Tuchuks, Warrior of Ko-ro-ba!" — Nomads of Gor, pages 343-344.

Free Women of the Wagons

Not much is described of the free women of the Wagon Peoples. Generally, they tend to do the cooking and other chores for the wagon to which they belong, and are described as rather dour.

As Kamchak and I walked to his wagon, I saw several girls, here and there, clad Kajir; they were magnificent; they walked with the true brazen insolence of the slave girl, the wench who knows that she is owned, whom men have found beautiful enough, and exciting enough, to collar. The dour women of the Wagon Peoples, I saw, looked on these girls with envy and hatred, sometimes striking them with sticks if they should approach too closely the cooking pots and attempt to steal a piece of meat. — Nomads of Gor, page 30.

"Here and there children ran between the wheels, playing with a cork ball and quiva, the object of the game being to strike the thrown ball. Tuchuk women, unveiled, in their long leather dresses, long hair bound in braids, tended cooking pots hung on tem-wood tripods over dung fires." — Nomads of Gor, pages 27.

As Kamchak and I walked to his wagon, I saw several girls, here and there, clad Kajir; they were magnificent; they walked with the true brazen insolence of the slave girl, the wench who knows that she is owned, whom men have found beautiful enough, and exciting enough, to collar. The dour women of the Wagon Peoples, I saw, looked on these girls with envy and hatred, sometimes striking them with sticks if they should approach too closely the cooking pots and attempt to steal a piece of meat.
       "I will tell your master!" screamed one.
       The girl laughed at her and with a toss of her auburn hair, bound in the Koora, ran off between the wagons. — Nomads of Gor, page 30.

�We shall, of course,� Elizabeth was saying, �have to make some different arrangements about the wagon.� She was glancing about, her lips pursed. �We shall have to divide it somehow. I do not know if it would be proper to share a wagon with a man who is not my master.� — Nomads of Gor, page 284.
       "You spoke of arrangements," I said. "There are some. Free or not, you are the woman in my wagon. I expect to have food, I expect the wagon to be clean, the axles to be greased, the bosk to be groomed." — Nomads of Gor, page 286.

Of course, as with free women of other areas on Gor, the wearing of silk is forbidden to them…

"… free women, incidentally, among the Wagon Peoples are not permitted to wear silk; it is claimed by those of the Wagons, delightfully I think, that any woman who loves the feel of silk on her body is, in the secrecy of her heart and blood, a slave girl, whether or not some master has yet forced her to don the collar." — Nomads of Gor, pages 57-58.

However, later we learn that in truth, the free women, especially if she is beautiful, raised in the First Wagon to later be fit prizes in the games of the Love War, are spoiled and encouraged to be insolent to others — even to free men, and that it is not only the slave girls, but free girls as well, who are often referred to as the "wild girls of the wagons."

"In the crowd, on the back of a kaiila, I noted the girl Hereena, of the First Wagon, whom I had seen my first day in the camp of the Tuchuks, she who had almost ridden down Kamchak and myself between the wagons. She was a very exciting, vital, proud girl and the tiny golden nose ring, against her brownish skin, with her flashing black eyes, did not detract from her considerable but rather insolent beauty. She, and others like her, had been encouraged and spoiled from childhood in all their whims, unlike most other Tuchuk women, that they might be fit prizes, Kamchak had told me, in the games of Love War. Turian warriors, he told me, enjoy such women, the wild girls of the Wagons. A young man, blondish-haired with blue eyes, unscarred, bumped against the girl's stirrup in the press of the crowd. She struck him twice with the leather quirt in her hand, sharply, viciously. I could see blood on the side of his neck, where it joins the shoulder. — Nomads of Gor, page 67.

There was the sudden thud of a kaiila's paws on the grass between the wagons and a wild snorting squeal. I jumped back avoiding the paws of the enraged, rearing animal.
       "Stand aside, you fool!" cried a girl's voice, and to my astonishment, astride the saddle of the monster Iespied a girl, young, astonishingly beautiful, vital, angry, pulling at the control straps of the animal. She was not as the other women of the Wagon Peoples I had seen, the dour, thin women with braided hair, bending over the cooking pots. She wore a brief leather skirt, slit on the right side to allow her the saddle of the kaiila; her leather blouse was sleeveless; attached to her shoulders was a crimson cape; and her wild black hair was bound back by a band of scarlet cloth. Like the other women of the Wagons she wore no veil and, like them, fixed in her nose was the tiny, fine ring that proclaimed her people. Her skin was a light brown and her eyes a charged, sparkling black.
       "What fool is this?" she demanded of Kamchak.
       'No fool," said Kamchak, "but Tarl Cabot, a warrior, one who has held in his hands with me grass and earth."
       "He is a stranger," she said. "He should be slain!"
       Kamchak grinned up at her. "He has held with me grass and earth," he said.
       The girl gave a snort of contempt and kicked her small, spurred heels into the flanks of the kaiila and bounded away.
       Kamchak laughed. "She is Hereena, a wench of the First Wagon," he said. — Nomads of Gor, pages 31-32.
       "She seemed much different than the other Tuchuk women," I said.
       Kamchak laughed, the colored scars wrinkling on his broad face. "Of course," said Kamchak, "she has been raised to be fit prize in the games of Love and War." — Nomads of Gor, page 33.

The Slaves of the Wagons

Do not assume that the kajirae of the Tuchuk are shy, shame-faced victims. Tuchuk kajirae are quite the contrary. They walk with the true brazen insolence of the slave girl, the wench who knows that she is owned, whom men have found beautiful enough, and exciting enough, to collar. The male slaves are generally insolent and therefore are always kept chained; they generally are used to tend to the bosk and general labor.

"… the Wagon Peoples enjoy being served by civilized slaves of great beauty and high station; during the day, in the heat and dust, such girls will care for the wagon bosk and gather fuel for the dung fires; at night they will please their masters. The Wagon Peoples sometimes are also willing to barter silks to the Turians, but commonly they keep these for their own slave girls, who wear them in the secrecy of the wagons…" — Nomads of Gor, pages 57-58.

"One girl, the leader of the dancers, she who had spoken to Kamchak, was a Tuchuk girl, and was particularly startling, vital, uncontrollable, wild. It was then clear to me why the Turian men so hungered for the wenches of the Wagon Peoples." — Nomads of Gor, page 98.

As Kamchak and I walked to his wagon, I saw several girls, here and there, clad Kajir; they were magnificent; they walked with the true brazen insolence of the slave girl, the wench who knows that she is owned, whom men have found beautiful enough, and exciting enough, to collar. The dour women of the Wagon Peoples, I saw, looked on these girls with envy and hatred, sometimes striking them with sticks if they should approach too closely the cooking pots and attempt to steal a piece of meat. "I will tell your master!" screamed one.
The girl laughed at her and with a toss of her auburn hair, bound in the Koora, ran off between the wagons. — Nomads of Gor, page 30.

Another great example of insolence of the Wagon Peoples kajira:

The girl laughed. Then, to my surprise, she looked at me boldly, though wearing the Turian collar; though she wore the nose ring; though she were only a branded slave clad Kajir. "I wager," she said, "that I will reach the lance." This irritated me. Moreover, I was not insensitive to the fact that though she were slave and I a free man, she had not addressed me, as the custom is, by the title of Master. I had no objection to the omission itself, but I did object to the affront therein implied. For some reason this wench seemed to me rather arrogant, rather contemptuous.
"I wager that you do not," I said. — Nomads of Gor, page 74.

Although the slaves of the Wagon Peoples are known for their wildness, do not think that a slave does not know her place, or rather, feels the burn of her master putting her in place. Also, as with other parts of Gor, should a man own more than one slave, he generally deigns one girl as his First Girl, she who has whip rights, and such, over all other slaves below her. Please refer to the Slave Categories page for more detailed information on First Girl, Low Girl, etc.

Kamchak leaped down from the "Yes," roared Kamchak, throwing The girl's fists were clenched.
saddle of the kaiila, puffing a bit.
"Here, here!" he cried cheerily, hauling the exhausted Aphris to her knees "There is work to be done!"
She looked up at him, the thong still on her neck, her wrists bound. Her eyes seemed dazed. "There are bosk to be groomed," he informed her, "and their horns and hoofs must be polished there is fodder to be fetched and dung to be gathered the wagon must be wiped and the wheels greased — and there is water to be brought from the stream some four pasangs away and meat to hammer and cook for supper! — hurry! — hurry, Lazy Girl!"
Then he leaned back and laughed his Tuchuk laugh, slapping his thighs.
Elizabeth Cardwell was removing the thong from the girl's neck and unbinding her wrists. "Come along," she said, kindly. "I will show you."
Aphris stood up, wobbling, still dazed. She turned her eyes on Elizabeth, whom she seemed to see then for the first time. "Your accent," said Aphris, slowly. "You are barbarian." She said it with a kind of horror.
"You will see," said Kamchak, "that she wears the pelt of a larl — that she is not collared, that she does not wear the nose ring, that she does not wear the brand." And then he added, ''— as you will."
Aphris trembled, her eyes pleading.
"Do you wonder, Little Aphris," asked Kamchak, "why the barbarian — though slave — is not clad Kajir, why she does not wear ring, brand and collar?"
"Why?" asked Aphris, frightened.
"So that there will be one higher than you in the wagon," said Kamchak.
I had wondered why Kamchak had not treated Elizabeth Cardwell as any other enslaved wench of Tuchuks.
"For" said Kamchak, "among your other tasks, my dear, you will perform for this barbarian the duties of a female serving slave."
This struck fire in Aphris of Turia. She suddenly straightened indignantly and cried out. "Not I — not Aphris of Turia'!"
"You," said Kamchak.
A serving slave to a barbarian!"
"Yes," said Kamchak.
"Never!" cried the girl. back his head and guffawing, "Aphris of Turia, in my wagon, will be a barbarian's serving slave!" "And I shall see," said Kamchak, "that word of this reaches Turia'" He then bent over and started cracking his knees with his fists, so amused he was.
Aphris of Turia trembled with rage before him.
"Please," said Elizabeth, "come away." She tried to take Aphris by the arm.
Aphris of Turia shrugged away her touch arrogantly, not wishing to feel her hand. But then, head in the air, she deigned to accompany Elizabeth from where we stood.
"If she does not work well," called Kamchak cheerily, "beat her."
Aphris turned to face him, fists clenched.
"You will learn, Little Aphris," said he, "who is master here."
The girl lifted her head. "Is a Tuchuk too poor," she asked, "to clothe a miserable slave?'"
"I have many diamonds in the wagon," said Kamchak, "which you may wear if you wish — but nothing else will you wear until it pleases me." — Nomads of Gor, pages 135-136.

Slave girls of the wagons tend to such basic chores as collecting dung for fires, greasing wagon wheels and tending the bosk (watering, grooming, etc).

Kamchak leaped down from the saddle of the kaiila, puffing a bit. "Here, here!" he cried cheerily, hauling the exhausted Aphris to her knees "There is work to be done!"
She looked up at him, the thong still on her neck, her wrists bound. Her eyes seemed dazed. "There are bosk to be groomed," he informed her, "and their horns and hoofs must be polished there is fodder to be fetched and dung to be gathered the wagon must be wiped and the wheels greased — and there is water to be brought from the stream some four pasangs away and meat to hammer and cook for supper! — hurry! — hurry, Lazy Girl!" — Nomads of Gor, page 135.

Buckets used by the Wagon Peoples are not made of metal, but rather are made of leather.

"Get up, Lazy Girl," said he, "the bosk need watering." Gratefully Aphris of Turia had taken up the leather buckets and hurried away to fetch water. — Nomads of Gor, page 156.

Slave girls do not ride the backs of kaiila as do their free sisters. Instead, they must run alongside the kaiila, a very good workout which keeps them in great shape.

"She was gasping and stumbling; her body glistened with perspiration; her legs were black with wet dust; her hair was tangled and thick with dust; her feet and ankles were bleeding; her calves were scratched and speckled with the red bites of rennels. When Kamchak reached his wagon, the poor girl, gasping for breath, legs trembling, fell exhausted to the grass, her entire body shaking with the ordeal of her run. I supposed that Aphris of Turia had done little in her life that was more strenuous than stepping in and out of a scented bath. Elizabeth Cardwell, on the other hand, I was pleased to see, ran well, breathing evenly, showing few signs of fatigue. She had, of course, in her time with the wagons, become used to this form of exercise. I had rather come to admire her. The life in the open air, the work, had apparently been good for her. She was trim, vital, buoyant. I wondered how many of the girls in her New York office could have run as she beside the stirrup of a Tuchuk warrior." — Nomads of Gor, page 135.

As in other parts of Gor, slaves touching a free man's weapons is highly frowned upon, though not always a taboo. It has been seen of slaves cleaning, loading, etc. the weapon of a free. However, using a weapon against a free is another matter indeed…>

Aphris, for her part, though the quivas were still available, seemed, shortly after having begun to sleep at Kamchak's boots, for some reason to have thought the better of burying one in his heart. It would not have been wise, of course, for even were she successful, her consequent hideous death at the hands of the Clan of Torturers would probably, all things considered, have made her act something of a bad bargain. — Nomads of Gor, page 155.

What may be seen as irony to some, given the fact that the Tuchuks pierce the noses not only of their bosk, but of their women as well, and consider it beautiful and of honor, earrings, to the Tuchuks, is considered horrifying and barbaric.

"Tuchuks," I remarked, "regard the piercing of ears as a barbarous custom inflicted on their slave girls by Turians." Elizabeth looked up, the tiny ring glinting in the light of the fire bowl.
       "Are your ears pierced?" I asked.
       "No," she said, "but many of my friends on Earth who owned fine earrings, had their ears pierced."
       "Did that seem so dreadful to you?" I asked.
       "No," she said, smiling.
       "It would to Tuchuks," I said. "They do not even inflict that on their Turian slaves." I added, "And it is one of the great fears of a Tuchuk girl that, should she fall into Turian hands, it will be done to her." — Nomads of Gor, page 281.

The slave dances of the Wagon Peoples are described as being savage and barbaric, an awesome spectacle indeed to watch.

"At the height of one of her dances, called the Dance of the Tuchuk Slave Girl, Kamchak turned to Aphris of Turia, who was watching the dance, eyes bright, as astounded as I at the savage spectacle." — Nomads of Gor, page 99.

"You are slave," he said. "Dance for your masters." The girl looked at him gratefully and she, with the others, rose to her feet and to the astounding barbarity of the music performed the savage love dances of the Kassars, the Paravaci, the Kataii, the Tuchuks. — Nomads of Gor, page 98.

Just as with other slaves all over Gor, the slave girls of the Wagon Peoples also have their animosities — and jealousies, and often slaves are very cruel to one another.

"Tuka, I knew, hated Elizabeth, and Elizabeth, I knew, reciprocated the emotion with vehemence. Tuka, in the matter of teaching Elizabeth the language, had been especially cruel. Elizabeth, bound, could not resist and did she try, Tuka's companions, the others of her wagon, would leap upon her with their switches flailing. Tuka, for her part, understandably had reason to envy and resent the young American slave. Elizabeth Cardwell, at least until now, had escaped, as Tuka had not, the brand, the nose ring and collar. Elizabeth was clearly some sort of favorite in her wagon. Indeed, she was the only girl in the wagon. That alone, though of course it meant she would work very hard, was regarded as a most enviable distinction. Lastly, but perhaps not least, Elizabeth Cardwell had been given for her garment the pelt of a larl, while she, Tuka, must go about the camp like all the others, clad Kajir." — Nomads of Gor, page 69.

And often, in these animosities and jealousies, slave girls have been known to fight. Masters, however, pay it little mind, not involving themselves in the trivial matters of beasts, and removing themselves from the squabbles of slaves. The basic rule of thumb, however, is that the slaves not permanently maim or kill each other.

Tuka, the slave girl, did not fare well at the hands of Elizabeth Cardwell. In the camp of the Tuchuks Elizabeth had begged that I not free her for but another hour.
       "Why?" I had asked.
       "Because," she had said, "masters do not much care to interfere in the squabbles of slaves."
       I shrugged. It would be at least another hour before I was ready to take wing for the Sardar, with the egg of Priest- Kings safe in the saddle pack of my tarn. There were several people gathered about, near the wagon of Kamchak, among them Tuka's master, and the girl herself. I recalled how cruel she had been to Elizabeth in the long months she had been with the Tuchuks, and how she had tormented her even when she was helpless in the cage of a sleen, mocking her and poking at her with the bosk stick. Perhaps Tuka gathered what might have been on Elizabeth's mind, for no sooner had the American girl turned toward her than she turned and fled from the wagon.
       Within something like fifty yards we heard a frightened squawk and saw Tuka thrown to the ground with a tackle that might have done credit to a qualified professional player of the American form of football. There shortly thereafter followed a vigorous and dusty broil among the wagons, involving much rolling about, biting, slapping, scratching and, from time to time, the easily identified sound of a small fist, apparently moving with considerable momentum, meeting with venous partially resistant, protoplasmic curvatures.
       There was only so much of this and we soon heard Tuka shrieking for mercy. At that juncture, as I recall, Elizabeth was kneeling on top of the Turian maiden with her hands in her hair pounding her head up and down in the dirt. Elizabeth's Tuchuk leather had been half torn from her but Tuka, who had been clothed only Kajir, had fared not even this well. Indeed, when Elizabeth finished, Tuka wore only the Curla, the red band that ties back the hair, and this band now knotted her wrists behind her back. Elizabeth then tied a thong in Tuka's nose ring and dragged her to the creek, where she might find a switch. When she found a suitable implement, of proper length and flexibility, of appropriate diameter and suppleness, she then secured Tuka by nose ring and thong to the exposed root of a small but sturdy bush, and thrashed her soundly. Following this, she untied the thong from the root and permitted the girl, thong still streaming from her nose ring, wrists still bound behind her, to run for her master's wagon, but pursued her each foot of the way like a hunting sleen, administering innumerable stinging incitements to greater and ever greater speed.
       At last, panting, bleeding here and there, discolored in places, half-naked, triumphant, Elizabeth Cardwell returned to my side, where she knelt as a humble, obedient slave girl. When she had somewhat caught her breath I removed the collar from her throat and freed her. — Nomads of Gor, pages 341-342.

Remember the free girl, Hereena, and her treatment of Harold? She ended up in the games of the Love War and in the pleasure gardens of Turia. Much to her consternation, however, Harold gets even.

"I rather like this one," he said, taking a bite out of the fruit, spitting some seeds to the rug. She wore yellow Pleasure Silk, and, beneath her long black hair, on her throat, I glimpsed a silverish Turian collar. She lay with her knees drawn up and her head resting on her left elbow. Her skin color was tarnish, not too unlike the girl I had seen from Port Kar. I bent more closely. She was a beauty, and the diaphanous Pleasure Silk that was the only garment permitted her did not, by design, conceal her charms. Then, startled, as she moved her head a bit, restlessly on the rug, I saw that in her nose was the tiny golden ring of a Tuchuk girl. "This is the one," Harold said. It was, of course, Hereena, she of the First Wagon.
       Harold tossed the emptied, collapsed shell of the larma fruit into a corner of the room and whipped one of the scarves from his belt. He then gave the girl a short, swift kick, not to hurt her, but simply, rather rudely, to startle her awake. "On your feet, Slave Girl," he said.Hereena struggled to her feet, her trend down, but Harold had stepped behind her, pulling her wrists blind her back and tying then with the scarf in his hand. "What is it?" she asked.
       "You are being abducted," Harold informed her.
       The girl's head flew up and she spun to face him, pulling to free herself. When she saw him her eyes were as wide as larma fruit and her mouth flew open.
       "It is I," said Harold, "Harold the Tuchuk."
       No!" she said. "Not you!"
       "Yes," he said, "I," turning her about once again, routinely checking the knots that bound her wrists, taking her wrists in his hands, trying to separate them, examining the knots for slippage; there was none. He permitted her to turn and face him again.
       "How did you get in here?" she demanded.
       "I chanced by," said Harold.
       She was trying to free herself. After an instant she realized that she could not, that she had been bound by a warrior. Then she acted as though she had not noticed that she had been perfectly secured, that she was his prisoner, the prisoner of Harold of the Tuchuks. She squared her small shoulders and glared up at him. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.
       "Stealing a slave girl," he said.
       "Who?" she asked.
       "Oh, come now," said Harold.
       "Not I!" she said. "Of course," said he.
       "But I am Hereena," she cried, "of the First Wagon!" I feared the girl's voice might awaken the others, but they seemed still to sleep.
       "You are only a little Turian slave girl," said Harold, "who has taken my fancy."
       "No!" she said.
       Then Harold had his hands in her mouth, holding it open. "See," he said to me.
       I looked. To be sure, there was a slight gap between two of the teeth on the upper right. Hereena was trying to say something. It is perhaps just as well she could not.
       "It is easy to see," said Harold, "why she was not chosen First Stake." Hereena struggled furiously, unable to speak, the young Tuchuk's hands separating her jaws. "I have seen kaiila with better teeth," he said. Hereena made an angry noise. I hoped that the girl would not burst a blood vessel. Then Harold removed his hands deftly, narrowly missing what would have been a most savage bite.
       "Sleen!" she hissed.
       "On the other hand," said Harold, "all things considered, she is a not unattractive little wench."
       "Sleen! Sleen!" cursed the girl.
       "I shall enjoy owning you," said Harold, patting her head. — Nomads of Gor, pages 220-222.

The Wily Tuchuk continues in his delight…

She straightened herself. "I will never go with you," she hissed. "Never! Never! Never!"
       "That is interesting," said Harold. "How do you propose to prevent it?"
       "I have a plan," she said.
       "Of course," he said, "you are Tuchuk." He looked at her narrowly. "What is your plan?"
       "It is a simple one," she responded.
       "Of course," said Harold, "though you are Tuchuk, you are also female."
       One of Hereena's eyebrows rose skeptically. "The simplest plans," she remarked, "are often the best."
       "Upon occasion," granted Harold. "What is your plan?"
       "I shall simply scream," she said.
       Harold thought for a moment. "That is an excellent plan," he admitted.
       "So," said Hereena, "free me and I will give you ten Ihn to flee for your lives." "I do not choose to do so," remarked Harold.
       She shrugged. "Very well," she said.
       "I gather you intend to put your plan into effect," said Harold.
       "Yes," she said.
       "Do so," said Harold.
       She looked at him for a moment and then put back her head and sucked in air and then, her mouth open, prepared to utter a wild scream. My heart nearly stopped but Harold, at the moment just before the girl could scream, popped one of the scarves into her mouth, wadding it Up and shoving it between her teeth. Her scream was only a muffled noise, hardly more than escaping air.
       "I, too," Harold informed her, "had a plan a counter-plan." He took one of the two remaining scarves and bound it across her mouth holding the first scarf well inside her mouth. "My plan," said Harold, "which I have now put into effect, was clearly superior to yours." — Nomads of Gor, pages 222-223.

Smart-ass. :)

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.

Wagon Peoples

Social Structure & Clans