Goreaners Lieblingsbeschäftigung mit Outlaws
Bartholomew Gallacher Da ich es gerade mit Panthern, also eigentlich Outlaws habe, nachdem da Cori kompromissloseres Spiel bei den Pyranas haben will, hat sich mir die Frage gestellt: was macht man eigentlich auf Gor mit solchen Frauen? Panther girl ist dabei ja nur ein Synonym für Outlaw, denn im Grunde ist es ein und dasselbe.
Also – was macht man so mit Outlaws wirklich auf Gor? Sicher nicht das Wischiwaschizeug, welches in SL-Gor gespielt wird.
Ich sehe das so: wenn die Frau einigermaßen schön ist, dann wird man versuchen, sie zur Lustsklavin zu machen, denn dann könnte sie ja noch was wert sein. Aber dazu muss man Lust und Laune haben, und wer sagt, dass ausgerechnet mein Goreaner dazu gerade Lust hat, sich das anzutun? Wenn er dazu keine Lust hat, gibt er sie weiter oder aber macht direkt die Standardstrafen.
Ansonsten sieht das Standardrepertoire an Umgang mit Oulaws folgende Strafen vor, nämlich das Erhängen oder aber das Durchschneiden der Kniesehnen. Das Erhängen ist dabei noch die gnädigere Strafe, weil man da nicht lange leiden muss, während man aber nach dem Durchschneiden der Kniesehnen oft versklavt wird und in irgendwelchen heruntergekommenen Kaschemmen als Bettelsklave gehalten wird, um für den Besitzer so Geld zu machen.
Nachlesen kann man das beispielsweise sehr schön in der englischen Originalausgabe von „Hunters of Gor“ auf den Seiten 160-163, wie da Marlenus mit Verna verfährt. Einzig und alleine ihre Unterwerfung hat sie vor dem Durchschneiden der Kniesehnen gerettet.
Um der Gorgrundschule Marke „aber Goreaner achten doch das Leben“ gleich auch hier den Wind aus den Segeln zu nehmen: sollte da jemand dem Outlaw direkt ein Schwert in die Brust rammen, dann wird das keinen aufregen, sondern man nimmt es bestenfalls gelassen zur Kenntnis oder applaudiert sogar, denn es war ja nur ein außerhalb der Gesellschaft stehendes, rechtsloses Subjekt, das da starb und das so verdient hat.
Und hier ist noch die betreffende Stelle im englischen Original:
“Who are you?” asked Marlenus.
“I am Verna,” she said, “the outlaw.”
Then, to her astonishment, and that of all those watching, saving the Ubar himself, Marlenus took the key to her collar from his pouch. He opened the collar and replaced the key in his pouch. He then removed the collar from her throat and cast it to one side, in the dirt.
She looked up at him, puzzled.
“Hamstring the outlaw,” he said.
“No!” she cried. She leaped to her feet but two huntsmen, cowled in the heads of forest panthers, seized her by the arms. “No! No!” she screamed.
“May we go, Ubar?” pleaded Hura. Mira, too, wanted to rush to the gate.
“Remain where you are,” said Marlenus.
The two women, frightened, did not move.
“Ubar!” screamed Verna. “Ubar!”
At a gesture from Marlenus the shreds of pleasure silk which still clung to her were torn from her by two huntsmen, they, too, like the others, cowled in the heads of forest panthers.
She stood before him, free of his collar, stripped, held by huntsmen.
Hanging is a not uncommon penalty in the northern forests for outlawry. Another such penalty, not infrequently inflicted, is hamstringing.
“No, Ubar!” she said. “Please, Ubar!”
In hamstringing the two large tendons behind each knee are cut. The legs my then no longer be contracted. They are then useless. No longer can the subject walk or run, or ever stand erect.
The subject is, however, not without resource. He can, though it requires strength, and it is awkward and painful, drag himself about by the hands.
When an individual is hamstrung he is often taken to a city where he is left, that he may, if he can, earn his living by begging. Sometimes tavern keepers gather several such unfortunates together, enslave them, and keep their beggings for themselves. A slave with a tharlarion wagon puts them about the city in the morning and picks them up at night. Sometimes the tavern keepers blind or mutilate them as well, that they be more piteous, and their earnings accordingly increased.
Verna was looking at Marlenus with horror.
“Let the outlaw be hamstrung,” said Marlenus.
Two huntsmen threw Verna forward, holding her head toward the ground. Two others held her legs, somewhat higher, stretching them out.
I saw the tendons, beautiful, taut, behind her knees.
A fifth huntsman, at a sign from Marlenus, stepped behind the girl. He removed the sleen knife from its sheath. I saw the edge of the blade touch the right tendon.
“I am a woman!” screamed Verna. “I am a woman!”
“No,” said Marlenus. “You are an outlaw.”
“I am a woman!” screamed Verna. “I am a woman! I am a woman!”
“No,” said Marlenus. “You have only a body of a woman. inside your body you are a man.”
“No!” she wept. “No! Inside I am a woman! I am woman!”
“Is it true?” asked Marlenus.
“Yes, yes!” wept Verna.
“You acknowledge yourself a female then,” asked Marlenus, “within as well as without.”
“Yes,” cried Verna. “I am a female!”
“Completely?” asked Marlenus.
“Yes,” cried Verna, “I am completely a female.”
“And not a man as well?” pressed Marlenus.
“I am completely and only a female,” wept Verna.
“Then,” said Marlenus, “it seems we should not hamstring you as an outlaw.”
Verna’s body shuddered with relief. She shook in the arms of her captors.
But they did not release her.
“Then,” said Marlenus, “you may be hamstrung for being an escaped slave girl.”
Terror sprang anew into Verna’s eyes.
It was true. The second penalty for an escaping girl, one who has fled before, is not uncommonly hamstringing. I had seem hamstrung girls, begging, piteous in the streets of Ar. It was not a pleasant sight.
“Hamstring the slave,” said Marlenus.
“Master!” screamed Verna. “Master!”
Marlenus hand indicated that the knife, poised, hesitate. The words that she had spoken stunned us, all save Marlenus. She had called him Master.
The huntsmen held the slave.
“Please, Master!” wept Verna. “Do not hurt me! Do not hurt me!”
“The slave begs for mercy,” said one of the huntsmen.
“Is this true?” asked Marlenus.
“Yes, Master,” wept Verna. “I am yours. I am your girl. I am your slave. I beg for mercy. I beg for mercy, Master!”
“Release her,” said Marlenus. The huntsmen resheathed his sleen knife. The others released the girl. She knelt on the ground, her head down, her hair forward, her shoulders and body shaking, trembling with terror.
The other girls, too, were frightened. Verna’s girls, in their panther skins, chained by their right ankle. Hura, and Mira, too, were shaken.
Verna had been shattered. Her pride, her obstinacy were gone.
She looked up at Marlenus, as a slave girl looks to the eyes of a master.
She knew then she was his.
Without being told, she went to the collar, lying in the dirt, which Marlenus had cast aside. Trembling, she picked it up and knelt before Marlenus. She handed him the collar. There were tears in her eyes.
Marlenus wiped the collar on his sleeve. A length of binding cord was brought.
Verna knelt back on her heels. She lifted her arms to Marlenus, wrists crossed. She lowered her head between her arms.
“I submit myself,” she said.
The collar was locked on her throat. Her hands were tied.
She lowered her bound wrists and lifted her head to Marlenus. “I am your girl,” she said, “Master.”
Marlenus turned to a subordinate. “Have her cleaned and combed,” he said. “And perfume her.”
She put down her head.
“Then put her in yellow pleasure silk,” he said, “fresh silk, and place bells on her left ankle.”
“Yes, Ubar,” said the man.
Marlenus was regarding the slave who knelt before him, her head down.
“And have her ears pierced,” said Marlenus, “and fix in them earrings of gold, large ones.”
“Yes, Ubar,” said the man.
The slave, conquered, did not so much as lift her head. It would be done to her, what her master wished.
“And tonight,” said Marlenus, “when she is sent to my tent, see that she wears lipstick.”
“It will be done as you say, Ubar,” said the man. He looked down at Verna. “Come with me, Girl,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said, and was led away.
I recalled the Flaminium, in the grip of Marlenus.
“These other slaves,” said Marlenus, indicating Verna´s former girls, “take them away.”
