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From Barbarians of Gor

Something has gone horribly wrong. You remember boarding a ship but have no memory of how you have arrived in this barren wild land. Were you captured? Was there a storm? Have the Priest Kings moved you to some new place as rumor suggests they may? It is unlikely that you will ever know, yet you know one thing …

You are still on Gor. For there in the night sky are the three moons. But further you know this to be the planet of your birth for you are of Gor and it is in your blood. Unfortunately, this is about all that you do know.



The people of this land seem more barbaric than even those of Torvaldsland and some speak languages you do not recognize. The flora and fauna are mostly unfamiliar to you. The question is how will you survive and more so, how will you thrive.



Description from Hedone

Is that light up ahead? You push through your exhaustion, swimming as best you can towards the distant beach, your feet finally touching solid ground. Staggering forward you fall to your knees. Waves batter you from behind as you start to crawl towards dry land. Gasping, you choke, the water coursing around you, crashing against your body and shoving you onward. You finally manage to drag yourself to the shore and out of the raging water.

Your life as you knew it is over. What brought you here is no longer relevant. Your history made you who you are, but the past and your experience will only guide what happens to you now. Your previous life, before you stepped out of that raging storm, all your friends, your connections, your entire existence, is gone. Were you a wealthy merchant, a skilled warrior, or a bound slave? None of that matters now.

Turning your head, you look back at the writhing maelstrom moving its way out to sea. You have no idea how you managed to survive, and whether that survival was a blessing or a curse. The freezing, damp air that you suck into your starving lungs stings yet you still count it as a blessing from the gods after a long struggle to succumb to the deep. You manage to get to your feet again and look around. Brushing the sand and seaweed from the heavy clothing that clings, hanging from your body like an anchor. You try to survey your surroundings through the trio of moons dimly lighting the clouds above you.

There is hope. In the distance, you can see civilization ahead, torches and lamps lighting the night sky in a warm glow of hundreds of flickering lights. Dragging yourself forward, praying to any deity that may be listening that somehow there is a good samaritan ahead who can help or at least not want to actively harm you.