Nemesys
Posts: 148
Joined: 9/3/2005
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quote:
ORIGINAL: Kirata
The way I sort it, there is nothing Gorean about being lacking in humanity.
IWYW,
Kirata
Exactly. Humanistic justice is a personal choice... if you can back your choices up.
Consider the example of Tarl when he places the life of a slave over the life of a free man. (Raiders of Gor, edited slightly for length)
I looked upon (Surbus) with loathing, despising him. How ugly he was, with his fierce beard, the narrow eyes, the ear gone from the right side of his face. I had heard of him, and well. I knew him to be pirate; and I knew him to be a slaver, and murderer, and thief; I knew him to be a cruel and worthless man, abominable, truly of Port Kar and, as I looked upon him, the filth and rottenness, I felt nothing but disgust.
In his arms he held, stripped, the bound body of a slave girl. It was she who had served me the night before, before Surbus, and his cutthroats and pirates, had entered the tavern. I had not much noticed her. She was thin, and not very pretty. She had blond hair, and, as I recalled, blue eyes. She was not much of a slave. I had not paid her much attention. I remembered that she had begged me to protect her and that I, of course, had refused.
“I am not pleased with her,”he said to the proprietor.
“I am sorry, Noble Surbus,”said the man, “I shall have her beaten.”
“I am not pleased with her!”cried Surbus.
“You wish her destroyed?”asked the man.
“Yes,”said Surbus, “destroyed.”
“Her price,”said the proprietor, “is five silver tarsks.”
From his pouch Surbus placed five silver tarsks, one after the other, on the counter.
“I will give you six,”I said to the proprietor. Surbus scowled at me.
“I have sold her for five,”said the proprietor, “to this noble gentleman. Do not interfere, Stranger, this man is Surbus.”
Surbus threw back his head and laughed. “Yes,”he said, “I am Surbus.”
“I am Bosk,”I said, “from the Marshes.”
Surbus looked at me, and then laughed. He turned away from the counter now, taking the girl from his shoulder and holding her, bound, in his arms. I saw that she was conscious, and her eyes red from weeping. But she seemed numb, beyond feeling.
“What are you going to do with her?”I asked.
“I am going to throw her to the urts,”said Surbus.
“Please,”she whispered, “please, Surbus.”
“To the urts!”laughed Surbus, looking down at her.
She closed her eyes.
The giant urts, silken and blazing-eyed, living mostly on the garbage in the canals, are not stranger to bodies, both living and dead, found cast into their waters.
“To the urts!”laughed Surbus.
I looked upon him, Surbus, slaver, pirate, thief, murderer. This man was totally evil. I felt nothing but hatred, and an ugly, irrepressible disgust of him.
“No,”I said.
He looked at me, startled.
“No,”I said, and moved the blade from the sheath.
“She is mine,”he said.
“Surbus often,”said the proprietor, “thus destroys a girl who has not pleased him.”
“She is mine,”said Surbus. “What right have you to interfere?”
“The right of Port Kar,”I said, “to do what pleases him.”
Surbus threw the girl from him and, with a swift, clean motion, unsheathed his blade.
“You are a fool, Stranger,”said the proprietor. “That is Surbus, one of the finest swords in Port Kar.”
Our discourse was brief.
Then, with a cry of hatred and elation, my blade, parallel to the ground, that it not wedge itself between the ribs of its target, passed through his body. I kicked him from the blade and withdrew the bloodied steel.
The proprietor was looking at me, wide-eyed.
“Who are you?”he asked.
“Bosk,”I told him, “Bosk from the Marshes.”
Several of the men around the tables, roused by the flash of steel, had awakened.
They sat there, startled.
I moved the blade in a semicircle, facing them. None of them moved against me.
I tore off some of his tunic and cleaned the blade on it.
He lay there on his back, blood moving from his mouth, the chest of his tunic scarlet, fighting for breath.
I looked down on him. I had been of the warriors. I knew he would not live long.
I felt no compunction. He was totally evil.
I went to the slave girl and cut the binding fiber that fastened her ankles and wrists.
It was good that Surbus lay dying. He was evil.
The sorting choices of the captain of the Gorean Titanic may be clear... but his choices depend upon his ability to enforce them, and they may be meaningless. Others may have something else to say about them.
I wish all well, N
< Message edited by Nemesys -- 1/13/2009 5:51:11 PM >
_____________________________
"The knife is no less a knife because it makes no sound." -Tarl Cabot
http://goreanunity.org
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RE: Women and Children First - 
The only thing I will be shooting will be beautiful pictures unless of course Master wishes to take some of his property.
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