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Quotes on Warriors

Tarnsman of Gor

My father had risen to his feet and had begun to pace the room, and his eyes seemed strangely alive. In time I would understand more of what he felt. Indeed, there is a saying on Gor, a saying whose origin is lost in the past of this strange planet, that one who speaks of Home Stones should stand, for matters of honor are involved, and honor is respected in the barbaric codes of Gor.
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 27
"There is at least one area, however," said my father, "in which the Priest-Kings do take a most active interest in this world, and that is the area of technology. They limit, selectively, the technology available to us, the Men Below the Mountains. For example, incredibly enough, weapon technology is controlled to the point where the most powerful devices of war are the crossbow and lance. Further, there is no mechanized transportation or communication equipment or detection devices such as the radar and sonar equipment so much in evidence in the military establishments of your world.
"On the other hand," he said, "You will learn that in lighting, shelter, agricultural techniques, and medicine, for example, the Mortals, or the Men Below the Mountains, are relatively advanced." He looked at me--amused, I think. "You wonder," he said, "why the numerous, rather obvious deficits in our technology have not been repaired--in spite of the Priest-Kings. It crosses your mind that there must exist minds on this world capable of designing such things as, say, rifles, and armored vehicles."
"Surely these things must be produced," I urged.
"And you are right," he said grimly. "From time to time they are, but their owners are then destroyed, bursting into flame."
"Like the envelope of blue metal?"
"Yes," he said. "It is the Flame Death merely to posses a weapon of the interdicted sort. Sometimes bold individuals create or aquire such war materials and sometimes for as long as a year escape the Flame Death, but sooner or later they are struck down." His eyes were hard. "I once saw it happen," he said.
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 31-32
"You must learn," Torm had said matter-of-factly, "the history and legends of Gor, its geography and economics, its social structures and customs, such as the caste system and clan groups, the right placing of the Home Stone, the Places of Sanctuary, when quarter is and is not permitted in war, and so on."
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 40
The Code of the Warrior was, in general, characterized by a rudimentary chivalry, emphasizing loyalty to the Pride Chiefs and the Home Stone. It was harsh, but with a certain gallantry, a sense of honor that I could respect. A man could do worse than live by such a code.
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 41
"The High Castes in a given city," said my father, "elect an administrator and council for stated terms. In times of crisis, a war chief, or Ubar, is named, who rules without check and by decree until, in his judgment, the crisis is passed."
"In his judgment?" I asked skeptically.
"Normally the office is surrendered after the passing of the crisis," said my father. "It is part of the Warrior's Code."
"But, what if he does not give up the office?" I asked. I had learned enough of Gor by now to know that one could not always count on the Caste Codes being observed.
"Those who do not desire to surrender their power," said my father, "are usually deserted by their men. The offending war chief is simply abandoned, left alone in his palace to be impaled by the citizens of the city he has tried to usurp."
I nodded, imagining a palace, empty save for one man sitting alone on his throne, clad in his robes of state, waiting for the angry people outside the gates to break through and work their wrath.
"But," said my father, "sometimes such a war chief, or Ubar, wins the hearts of his men and they refuse to withdraw their allegiance."
"What happens then?" I asked.
"He becomes a tyrant," said my father, "and rules until eventually, in one way or another, he is ruthlessly disposed."
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 42-43
Indeed, the largest part of my education was to be in arms, mostly training in the spear and sword. The spear seemed light to me because of the gravity, and I soon developed a dexterity in casting it with considerable force and accuracy. I could penetrate a shield at close distance, and I managed to develop skill sufficient to url it through a thrown hoop about the side of a dinner plate at twenty yards. I was also forced to learn to throw the spear with my left hand.
Once I objected.
"What if you are wounded in the right arm?" demanded the Older Tarl. "What will you do then?"
"Run?" suggested Torm, who occasionally observed these practice sessions.
"No!" cried the Older Tarl. "You must stand and be slain like a warrior!"
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 47
I also learned the use of the shield, primarily to meet the cast spear obliquely so that it would deflect harmlessly. Toward the end of my training I always fought with shield and helmet. I would have supposed that armor, or chain mail perhaps, would have been a desirable addition to the accouterments of the Gorean warrior, but it is forbidden by the Priest-Kings. A possible hypothesis to explain this is that the Priest-Kings may have wished war to be a biologically selective process in which the weaker and slower perish and fail to reproduce themselves. 
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 48
"We are going to the Chamber of the Council," he said.
I followed him.
The Chamber of the Council is the room in which the elected representatives of the High Castes of Ko-ro-ba hold their meetings. Each city has such a chamber. It was in the widest of cylinders, and the ceiling was at least six times the height of the normal living level. The ceiling was lit as if by stars, and the walls were of five colors, applied laterally, beginning from the bottom -- white, blue, yellow, green, and red, caste colors. Benches of stone, on which the members of the Council sat, rose in five monumental tiers about the walls, one tier for each of the High Castes. These tiers shared the color of that portion of the wall behind them, the caste colors.
The tier nearest the floor, which denoted some preferential status, the white tier, was occupied by Initiates, Interpreters of the Will of Priest-Kings. In order, the ascending tiers, blue, yellow, green, and red, were occupied by representatives of the Scribes, Builders, Physicians, and Warriors.
Torm, I observed, was not seated in the tier of Scribes. I smiled to myself. "I am," Torm had said, "too practical to involve myself in the frivolities of government." I supposed the city might be under siege and Torm would fail to notice.
I was pleased to note that my own caste, that of the Warriors, was accorded the least status; if I had had my will, the warriors would not have been a High Caste. On the other hand, I objected to the Initiates being in the place of honor, as it seemed to me that they, even more than the Warriors, were nonproductive members of society. For the Warriors, at least, one could say that they afforded protection to the city, but for the Initiates one could say very little, perhaps only that they provided some comfort for ills and plagues largely of their own manufacture.
In the center of the amphitheater was a throne of office, and on this throne, in his robe of state -- a plain brown garment, the humblest cloth in the hall -- sat my father, Administrator of Ko-ro-ba, once Ubar, War Chieftain of the city. At his feet lay a helmet, shield, spear, and sword.
"Come forward, Tarl Cabot," said my father, and I stood before his throne of office, feeling the eyes of everyone in the chamber on me. Behind me stood the Older Tarl. I had noted that those blue Viking eyes showed almost no evidence if the previous night. I hated him, briefly.
The Older Tarl was speaking. "I, Tarl, Swordsman of Ko-ro-ba, give my word that this man is fit to become a member of the High Caste of Warriors."
My father answered him, speaking in ritual phrases. "No tower in Ko-ro-ba is stronger than the word of Tarl, this Swordsman of our city. I, Matthew Cabot of Ko-ro-ba, accept his word."
Then, beginning with the lowest tier, each member of the Council spoke in succession, giving his name and pronouncing that he, too, accepted the word of the blond swordsman. When they had finished, my father invested me with the arms which had lain before the throne. About my shoulder he slung the steel sword, fastened on my left arm the round shield, placed in my right hand the spear, and slowly lowered the helmet on my head.
"Will you keep the Code of the Warrior?" asked my father.
"Yes," I said, "I will keep the Code."
"What is your Home Stone?" asked my father.
Sensing what was wanted, I replied, "My Home Stone is the Home Stone of Ko-ro-ba."
"Is it to that city that you pledge your life, your honor, your sword?" asked my father.
"Yes," I said.
"Then," said my father, placing his hands solemnly on my shoulders, "in virtue of my authority as Administrator of this city and in the presence of the Council of High Castes, I declare you to be a Warrior of Ko-ro-ba."
My father was smiling. I removed my helmet, feeling proud as I heard the approval of the Council, both in voice and by Gorean applause, the quick, repeated striking of the left shoulder with the palm of the right hand. Aside from candidates for the status of Warrior, none of my caste was permitted to enter the Council armed. Had they been armed, my caste brothers would have struck their spear blades on their shields. As it was, they smote their shoulders in the civilian manner, more exuberantly perhaps than was compatible with the decorum of that weighty chamber. Somehow I had the feeling they were genuinely proud of me, though I had no idea why. I had surely done nothing to warrant their commendation.
-Tarnsman of Gor, pages 61-64 
Once a warrior without a helmet flew near, drunk, and challenged me for the perch, a wild tarnsman of low rank, spoiling for a fight. If I had yielded the perch, it would have aroused suspicion immediately, for on Gor the only honorable reply to a challenge is to accept it promptly.
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 78
"I can force you to take me," she said.
"How?" I asked.
"Like this," she responded, kneeling before me, lowering her head and lifting her arms, the wrists crossed. She laughed. "Now you must take me with you or slay me," she said, "and I know you cannot slay me."
I cursed her, for she took unfair advantage of the Warrior Codes of Gor.
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 109
"Yield her or I will have my tharlarion trample you," he snapped, "or would you prefer to be spitted on my lance?"
"You know the codes," I said evenly. "If you want her, you must challenge for her and meet me with the weapon of my choice."
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 117
Once I stepped back, gesturing to the ground with my sword, the symbolic granting of quarter should it be desired. But Kazrak would not lay his sword on the stones at my feet. Rather, he suddenly launched a vicious attack, forcing me to defend myself as best I could. He seemed to fight with new fury, perhaps enraged that he had been offered quarter.
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 117
"Do not harm him," said Kazrak. "He is my sword brother, Tarl of Bristol." Kazrak's remark was in accord with the strange warrior codes of Gor, codes which were as natural to him as the air he breathed, and codes with I, in the Chamber of the Council of Ko-ro-ba, had sworn to uphold. One who has shed your blood, or whose blood you have shed, becomes your sword brother, unless you formally repudiate the blood on your weapons. It is a matter of caste, an expression of respect for those who share their station and profession, having nothing to do with cities or Home Stones.
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 119
"Your daughter, Talena, is alive," I said to Marlenus. He had not asked and did not now appear to have much interest in the matter. Still, if he was human at all, I assumed this remote, kingly, dream-obsessed man would want to know.
"She would have brought a thousand tarns," said Marlenus. "Proceed with the impalement."
The tarnsmen grasped my arms more securely. Two others removed the tharlarion lance from its crevice and brought it forward. It would be forced into my body, and I would be lifted, with it, into place.
"She's your daughter," I said to Marlenus. "She's alive."
"Did she submit to you?" asked Marlenus.
"Yes," I said.
"Then she valued her life more than my honor."
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 157
The Supreme Initiate, as he called himself, raised a shield and then set it at his feet. He then raised a spear and set it, like the shield, at his feet. This gesture is a military convention employed by commanders on Gor when calling for a parley or conference. It signifies a truce, literally the temporary putting aside of weapons. In surrender, on the other hand, the shield straps and the shaft of the spear are broken, indicating that the vanquished has disarmed himself and places himself at the mercy of the conqueror.
-Tarnsman of Gor, pg. 187 

Outlaw of Gor

The bartender, a heavy, soft-faced man, waddled to the table. One of his fat hands nervously clutched a short leather truncheon, weighted with shot. The bartender jerked his thumb toward the door. He repeated the gesture. Cabot towering over him seemed not to comprehend. The bartender lifted the truncheon in a menacing gesture. Cabot simply took the weapon, seeming to draw it easily from the startled grip of the fat man. He looked down into the sweating, frightened fat face.
"You have lifted a weapon against me," he said. "My codes permit me to kill you."
-Outlaw of Gor, pg. 14
Like most members of my Caste, more than the monstrous tarns, those carnivorous hawklike giants of Gor, I dreaded such creatures as the tiny ost, that diminutive, venomous reptile, orange, scarcely more than a few inches in length, that might lurk at one's very sandal and then, without provocation or warning, strike, its tiny fangs the prelude to excruciating torment, concluding only with sure death. Among warriors, the bite of an ost is thought to be one of the most cruel of all gates to the Cities of Dust; far preferable to them are the rending beak, the terrible talons of a tarn.
-Outlaw of Gor, pg. 118 
"I should have killed you on the Pillar of Exchanges," said Thorn. 
I spoke loudly so that my voice might carry to all who manned the double rampart. 
"I come on behalf of Lara, who is true Tatrix of Tharna. Sheathe your weapons. No more shed the blood of men of your own city. I ask this in the name of Lara, and of the city of Tharna and its people. And I ask it in the name of the codes of your own caste, for your swords are pledged to the true Tatrix - Lara - not Dorna the Proud!"
-Outlaw of Gor, pg. 231

Priest Kings of Gor

I am of the Caste of Warriors, and it is in our codes that the only death fit for a man is that in battle, but I can no longer believe that this is true, for the man I met once on the road to Ko-ro-ba died well, and taught me that all wisdom and truth does not lie in my own codes.
-Priest Kings of Gor, pg. 14
Had I now become so much the Gorean warrior that I could disregard the feelings of a fellow creature, in particular those of a girl, who must be protected and cared for? Could it be that I had, as the Codes of my Caste recommended, not even considered her, but merely regarded her as a rightless animal, no more than a subject beast, an abject instrument to my interests and pleasures, a slave?
-Priest Kings of Gor, pg. 48

Nomads of Gor

"You know your codes, do you not?" she challenged. "The codes of the warrior of Gor?"
"Do not," I said.
Again she slapped me and my head leaped to the side, burning. "I hate you," she hissed.
And then, as I knew she would, she suddenly knelt before me, in fury, head down, arms extended, wrists crossed, submitting as a Gorean female.
"Now," she said, looking up, her eyes blazing with anger,
"You must either slay me or enslave me."
-Nomads of Gor, pg. 292

Raiders of Gor

"You are of the warriors," said Ho-Hak.
"Yes," I said. "I know, yes."
I found I desperately wanted the respect of this calm, strong man, he most of all, be once a slave, who sat before me on the throne, that sell of the giant Vosk sorp. "The teeth of the tharlarion," said he, "are swift, Warrior."
"I know," I said.
"If you wish," said he, "we will slay you first."
"I," I said, "I do not want to die."
I lowered my head, burning with shame. In my eyes in that moment it seemed I had lost myself, that my codes had been betrayed, Ko-ro-ba my city dishonored, even the blade I had carried soiled. I could not look Ho-Hak again in the eyes. In their eyes, and in mine, I could now be nothing, only a slave.
-Raiders of Gor, pg. 23-24

I, Tarl Cabot, hating myself, no longer respected or trusted human beings. I had done what I had done that day for the sake of a child, one who had once been kind to me, but who no longer existed. I knew myself for one who had chosen ignominious slavery over the freedom of honorable death. I knew myself as coward. I had betrayed my codes.
-Raiders of Gor, pg. 76
"I will speak to you sometime," I said, "of these things."
Samos has spoken gently, but he was a slaver.
"We anticipated," said Samos, "that your humanity would assert itself, that faced with a meaningless, ignominious death in the marshes, you would grovel and whine for your life."
In my heart I wept. "I did," I said.
"You chose," said Samos, "as warriors have it, ignominious bondage over the freedom of honorable death."
There were tears in my eyes. "I dishonored my sword, my city. I betrayed my codes."
"You found your humanity," said Samos.
"I betrayed my codes!" I cried.
"It is only in such moments," said Samos, "that a man sometimes learns that all truth and all reality is not written in ones own codes."
-Raiders of Gor, pg. 310

Hunters of Gor

"Speak," said Verna to Mira, "what else you saw, before their camp was broken before their tarns took flight."
"His hand on his hilt of his sword," said Mira, "and his other hand on the medallion of Ar, his daughter was disowned."
I gasped, stunned.
"Yes," laughed Verna, "according to the codes of the warriors and by the rites of the city of Ar, no longer is Talena kin or daughter of Marlenus of Ar."
I lay, stunned. According to irreversible ceremonies, both of the warriors and of the city of Ar, Talena was no longer the daughter of Marlenus. In her shame she had been put outside his house. She was cut off. In law, and in the eyes of Goreans, Talena was now without family. No longer did she have kin. She was now, in her shame, alone, completely. She was now only slave, that and nothing more.
-Hunters of Gor, pg. 130-131

Marauders of Gor

The morality of Earth, from the Gorean point of view, is a morality which would be viewed as more appropriate to slaves than free men. It would be seen in terms of the envy and resentment of inferiors for their superiors. It lays great stress on equalities and being humble and being pleasant and avoiding friction and being ingratiating and small. It is a morality in the best interests of slaves, who would be only too eager to be regarded as the equals of others. We are all the same. That is the hope of slaves; that is what it is in their interest to convince others of. The Gorean morality on the other hand is more one of inequalities, based on the assumption that individuals are not the same, but quite different in many ways. It might be said to be, though this is oversimple, a morality of masters. Guilt is almost unknown in Gorean morality, though shame and anger are not. Many Earth moralities encourage resignation and accomodation; Gorean morality is bent more toward conquest and defiance; many Earth moralities encourage tenderness, pity, and gentleness; Gorean morality encourages honor, courage, hardness and strength. To Gorean morality many Earth moralities might ask, "Why so hard?" To these Earth moralities, the Gorean ethos might ask, "Why so soft?"
-Marauders of Gor, pg. 8
In the codes of the warriors, there is a saying: "Be strong, and do as you will. The swords of others will set your limits."
...
"Within the circle of each man's sword," say the codes of the warrior, "therein is each man a Ubar."
...
"Steel is the coinage of the warrior," say the codes. "With it he purchases what pleases him."
-Marauders of Gor, pg. 10
"I would not have thought Sarus of Tyros would have used poisoned steel," I said. Such a device, like the poisoned arrow, was not only against the codes of the warriors, but, generally, was regarded as unworthy of men. Poison was regarded as a woman's weapon.
-Marauders of Gor, pg. 18

Slave girl of Gor

"Did you find her pleasing?" asked Thurnus.
"Yes," said Bran Loort. He gripped the long, heavy staff more firmly, standing ready.
"Then," said Thurnus, "it will not be necessary for me to beat or slay her."
Bran Loort looked puzzled.
"Surely you know, Bran Loort," said Thurnus, "it is the duty of a slave girl to be fully and completely pleasing to men. Were she not so she would be subject to severe punishment, including even torture and death, should it be the master's wish."
"We took her without your permission," said Bran Loort.
"In this," said Thurnus, "you have committed a breach of code."
"It does not matter to me," said Bran Loort.
"Neither a plow, nor a bosk, nor a girl may one man take from another, saving with the owner's saying of it," quoted Thurnus.
"I do not care," said Bran Loort.
"What is it, Bran Loort, that separates men from sleen and larls?" asked Thurnus.
"I do not know," said Bran Loort.
"It is the codes," said Thurnus.
"The codes are meaningless noises, taught to boys," said Bran Loort.
"The codes are the wall," said Thurnus.
"I do not understand," said Bran Loort.
"It is the codes which separate men from sleen and larls," said Thurnus. "They are the difference. They are the wall."
"I do not understand," said Bran Loort.
"You have left the shelter of the wall, Bran Loort," said Thurnus.
"Do you threaten me, Thurnus of Tabuk's Ford?" asked Bran Loort.
"You stand now outside the shelter of the wall," said Thurnus.
"I do not fear you!" cried Bran Loort.
"Had you asked of me my permission, Bran Loort," said Thurnus, indicating me with a gesture of his head, "willingly and without thought, gladly, would I have given you temporary master rights over her."
I lay in the dirt, my hands bound behind my back, the rope on my neck, watching. It was true what Thurnus had said. I could have been loaned to Bran Loort, and would have had to serve him as though he were my own master.
"But you did not ask my permission," said Thurnus.
"No," said Bran Loort, angrily, "I did not."
"Before, too, you have done such things, you, and these others, though not to the degree nor with the intent of this day."
It was true. Sometimes the boys had caught us, Thurnus's girls, or those of others, too, and roped us together and raped us in the furrows of the fields, but it had been done in the bullying rowdyism of their youth, having slave girls at their mercy. There had been no intent of insult, or umbrage, in it. It had been the hot, fierce, innocent sport of strong young men, powerful and excited, who held brief-tuniced, branded girls, in rope collars, in their arms, nothing more. Does a slave girl not expect slave rape? Some masters enjoy having their girls raped occasionally; it serves to remind them that they are slaves. This sort of rape is not uncommon in a peasant village. It is usually taken for granted and ignored, save perhaps by the abused girls, but they are only slaves. Indeed, it is sometimes encouraged, to pacify young men whose natural aggressions otherwise might turn aside into destructive channels. It is also regarded, at times, as an aid in helping young males attain their manhood. "If she pleases you, run her down, and take her, son," is a not uncommon piece of paternal advice in a peasant village. I had heard this twice, though it had not been I on whom the young man had been set. Verr Tail had been caught and raped on her back, struggling, in the stream, once, and Radish had been caught and forced to give pleasure between the sleen cages. Each of these young men had walked differently following their conquest. I had shrunk back when they had approached. I knew they were now men, and I was only a slave. These two young men were not among the cohorts of Bran Loort. But what had been done today to me was clearly different in its intent and gravity from the casual, expected, fierce exhibitions of male aggression to which imbonded girls such as I must become accustomed.
"I have been patient with you, Bran Loort," said Thurnus. 
"We are grateful for your patience," said Bran Loort. He looked about, at his cohorts, grinning. He set his staff, butt down, in the dirt.
I sensed that the codes were to be invoked. What Bran Loort and his fellows had done exceeded the normal rights of custom, the leniencies and tacit permissions of a peasant community; commonly the codes are invisible; they exist not to control human life, but to make it possible. The rapes of Verr Tail and Radish, interestingly, had not counted as code breaches, though in neither case had explicit permission for their conquest been granted by Thurnus; such permission, in such cases, was implicit in the customs of the community; it did not constitute a "taking from" but a brief use of, an "enjoyment of," without the intent to do injury to the honor of the master; "taking from," in the sense of the code is not, strictly, theft, though theft would be "taking from." "Taking from," in the sense of the codes, implies the feature of being done against the presumed will of the master, of infringing his rights, more significantly, of offending his honor. In what Bran Loort had done, insult had been intended.
-Slave Girl of Gor, pg. 226-228
Beasts of Gor
Honor is important to Goreans, in a way that those of Earth might find it hard to understand; for example, those of Earth find it natural that men should go to war over matters of gold and riches, but not honor; the Gorean, contrariwise, is more willing to submit matters of honor to the abjudication of steel than he is matters of riches and gold; there is a simple explanation for this; honor is more important to him.
-Beasts of Gor, pg. 42 
I caught the arm of the captain. His face turned white. "Have you raised your arm against me?" I asked.
I released his arm, and he staggered back. Then he slung his shield on his arm, and unsheathed the blade slung at his left hip.
"What is going on!" demanded the woman.
"Be silent, foolish woman," said the captain.
She cried out with rage. But what did she know of the codes?
-Beasts of Gor, pg. 114
"What are the codes?" she asked.
"They are nothing, and everything," I said. "They are a bit of noise, and the steel of the heart. They are meaningless, and all significant. They are the difference. Without the codes men would be Kurii."
-Beasts of Gor, pg. 340
"What is it to be a warrior?" she asked.
"It is to keep the codes," I said. "You may think that to be a warrior is to be large, or strong, and to be skilled with weapons, to have a blade at your hip, to know the grasp of the spear, to wear the scarlet, to know the fitting of the iron helm upon one's countenance, but these things are not truly needful; they are not, truly, what makes one man a warrior and another not. Many men are strong, and large, and skilled with weapons. Any man might, if he dared, don the scarlet and gird himself with weapons. Any man might place upon his brow the helm of iron. But it is not the scarlet, not the steel, not the helm of iron which makes the warrior."
She looked up at me.
"It is the codes," I said.
-Beasts of Gor, pg. 340
"One does not speak to a slave of the codes," I said.
-Beasts of Gor, pg. 340
"I am of the Warriors," I said. "I will take by the sword what women please me." 
-Beasts of Gor, pg. 348
Rogue of Gor
"I understand," I said. I had a respect for caste honor. Honor is honor, in small things as well as great. Indeed, how can one practice honor in great things, if not in small things? 
-Rogue of Gor, pg. 231
Guardsmen of Gor
But, why? I asked myself. Should not, rather, one be more ashamed by deceit than the truth? Can there truly be a greater honor in hypocrisy than in honesty? It does not seem so.
-Guardsman of Gor, pg. 257 
Is it not safer to cower in the caves of lies than to stand upon the cliffs of truth, surveying the world? Yet when one stands in the sunlight, and feels the winds of reality, how dank and shameful seem the dark shelters of falsehood, and how foolish it seems then to have once feared daylight and fresh air.
-Guardsman of Gor, pg. 276
Savages of Gor
The beast, snarling, took a step forward.
"It is going to attack," said Grunt. "I can kill it," he said. He raised the crossbow.
"Do not fire," I said.
Grunt did not discharge the weapon.
"Look at it," I said.
The beast regarded Grunt, and then myself. Its lips curled back over the double ring of white fangs.
"It is showing contempt for us," I said.
"Contempt?" said Grunt, puzzled.
"Yes," I said. "You see, he is not similarly armed."
"It is a beast," said Grunt. But he lowered the weapon.
"It is a Kur," I said.
The beast then backed away from us, snarling. After a few feet it turned and dropped to all fours, moving through the grass. It did not look back.
I moved the kaiila a few feet forward, to where it had originally stood in the grass. I wished to study the pattern of grasses there. Then I returned to where Grunt, and the others, were waiting.
"You should have let me kill it," said Grunt.
"Perhaps," I said. 
"Why did you not have me fire?" asked Grunt.
"It has to do with codes," I said.
-Savages of Gor, pg. 270-271
Blood Brothers of Gor
Even warriors long sometimes for the sight of their own flags, atop friendly walls, for the courtyards of their keeps, for the hearths of their halls. Thus admit the Codes.
-Blood Brothers of Gor, pg. 306
As we had not been similarly armed, it alone, afoot, and I with Grunt, he with an armed crossbow, and as it had not rushed upon me, I had not contested its withdrawal from the field. Such had seemed in accordance with codes to which I had once subscribed, codes which I had never forgotten. 
-Blood Brothers of Gor, pg. 459
Players of Gor
In other cities, and in most cities, on the other hand, a free woman may, with legal tolerance, submit herself as a slave to a specific man. If he refuses her, she is then still free. If he accepts her, she is then, categorically, a slave, and he may do with her as he pleases, even selling her or giving her away, or slaying her, if he wishes. Here we might note a distinction between laws and codes. In the codes of the warriors, if a warrior accepts a woman as a slave, it is prescribed that, at least for a time, an amount of time up to his discretion, she be spared. If she should be the least bit displeasing, of course, or should prove recalcitrant in even a tiny way, she may be immediately disposed of.
It should be noted that this does not place a legal obligation on the warrior. It has to do, rather, with the proprieties of the codes. If a woman not within a clear context of rights, such as capture rights, house rights, or camp rights, should pronounce herself slave, simpliciter, then she is subject to claim. These claims may be explicit, as in branding, binding and collaring, or as in the uttering of a claimancy formula, such as "I own you," "You are mine," or "You are my slave," or implicit, as in, for example, permitting the slave to feed from your hand or follow you.
-Players of Gor, pg. 21
"Do not be silly," he said. "We are friends and we have stood together with blades before enemies. I would betray Priest-Kings before I would betray you."
"You are a brave man," I said, "to risk the wrath of Priest-Kings."
"The most they can take is my life," he said, "and if I were to lose my honor, even that would be worthless."
-Players of Gor, pg. 71
Many men think they know what they will do, but when the moment comes it seems it does not always turn out as expected. Sometimes he who thinks he is brave learns he is a coward, and sometimes, too, I suppose, he who thought himself a coward learns that he is brave.
-Players of Gor, pg. 277
Mercenaries of Gor
There was nothing in the codes of the warriors, as I recalled, that explicitly demanded resistance to brigands, though perhaps it was presupposed.
-Mercenaries of Gor, pg. 90
It is seldom wise, incidentally, to impugn, or attempt to manipulate, the honor of a Gorean.
-Mercenaries of Gor, pg. 297
Renegades of Gor
Warriors, it is said in the codes, have a common Home Stone. Its name is battle.
-Renegades of Gor, pg. 343

Vagabonds of Gor

It was lonely here.
Yet such times are good in the life of a warrior, times to be alone, to think.
He who cannot think is not a man, so saith the codes. Yet neither, too, they continue, is he who can only think.
-Vagabonds of Gor, pg. 65
"Are you of the Warriors?" asked Labenius. 
"Yes," I said. 
"Hear," said Labenius to his men. "He is of the Warriors." 
"He says he is," said a fellow, glumly. 
"What is the 97th Aphorism in the Codes?" inquired Labenius. 
"My scrolls may not be those of Ar," I said. To be sure, the scrolls should be, at least among the high cities, in virtue of conventions held at the Sardar Fairs, particularly the Fair of En'Kara, much in agreement. 
"Will you speak?" asked Labenius. 
"Remove the female," I said. 
"He is a Warrior," said one of the men. 
One of the men lifted the bound Ina in his arms, one hand behind the back of her knees, and the other behind her back, and carried her from where we were gathered. In a few moments he returned. 
"The female is now out of earshot?" inquired Labenius, staring ahead. 
"Yes," said the fellow, "and she will stay where I left her, on her back, as I tied her hair about the base of a stout shrub."
"The 97th Aphorism in the Codes I was taught," I said, "is in the form of a riddle: `What is invisible but more beautiful than diamonds?' "
"And the answer?" inquired Labenius. 
"That which is silent but deafens thunder."
The men regarded one another. 
"And what is that?" asked Labenius. 
"The same," said I, "as that which depresses no scale but is weightier than gold."
"And what is that?" asked Labenius. 
"Honor," I said. 
"He is of the Warriors," said a man. 
-Vagabonds of Gor, pg. 304-305 
The warrior does not kill himself or aid others in the doing of it. It is not in the codes.
-Vagabonds of Gor, pg. 446
"What of honor?" I asked. 
"An inconvenience," he said, "an impediment on the path to power."
"You seem to me," I said, uncertainly, "one who might once have had honor."
"I have outgrown it," he said. 
"The most dangerous lies," I said, "are those which we tell ourselves."
-Vagabonds of Gor, pg. 468

Magicians of Gor

"You have drawn a weapon against me," I said.
"You are of the warriors?" said the fellow. He wavered. He, too, knew the codes.
"Yes," I said.
"And he?" asked the fellow.
"He, too," I said.
-Magicians of Gor, pg. 129 
When Goreans get the idea that honor is involved, they suddenly become quite difficult to deal with.
-Magicians of Gor, pg. 400