Kur have come to Gor, to conquer it for themselves. Kurii are a rabid
species with a code of honor all their own, though Tarl Cabot himself,
seems to understand some parts of it also.
The Kur have used the planet Earth to recruit agents for themselves in
their quest oh inhabitate and control Gor for their own species.
They use, much like the Priest-Kings ships of acquisition to bring agents to
Gor. I have only seen females brought to Gor for this purpose and while
some a play the role of a free woman for a time on Gor, then end result is
the same, they are destined to be slaves.
|This research is done on the series of books written by John Norman, the comments in italics are mine and my point of view.
Woman of Gor
Through out the books, the Kur try to find out what is the power of the Priest-Kings and to what extent they control the Gorean planet. They try to
conquer Gorean land for themselves in many different form and from different ares of Gor, including, the Barrens, the Great North and the Jungles.
"Here," said Samos, at the end of the corridor, one of the lowest in the pens. He uttered the password through the beamed, metal sheathed door. It
swung open. Beyond it was another corridor, but one much shorter. It was damp. Samos took a torch from the guard, and went to one of the doors. He
looked through the tiny slit in the door, holding the torch up. Then he slid back the bolt and, bending over, entered the room. There was a foul stench of
excrement from within.
"What do you think?" asked Samos.
He held the torch up.
The chained shape did not move. Samos took a stick from beside the door, with which the jailer thrust the pan of water or food toward the shape.
The shape was apparently either asleep, or dead. I did not bear breathing.
An urt scurried suddenly, unexpectedly, toward a crack in the wall. It disappeared within.
Samos touched the shape with the stick. Suddenly it turned and bit the stick through, eyes blazing. It hurled itself, some eight hundred pounds of
weight, to the length of the six chains that fastened it, each chain to a separate ring, to the wall. The chains jerked at the rings, again and again. It bit
at us. Claws emerged and retracted, and emerged again, from the tentaclelike six-digited appendages of the thing. I looked into the flat, leathery
snout, the black-pupiled, yellowish-corneaed eyes, the ears flat back against its head, the wide, fang-rimmed orifice of a mouth, large enough to bite
the head from a man. I heard the rings groan in the stone. But they held. I removed my hand from the sword hilt.
The beast sat back against the wall, watching us. It now blinked, against the light of the torch.
"This is the first one, living, that I have seen," said Samos.
Once before, in the ruins of a hall in Torvaldsland, surmounting a stake, he had seen the head of such a beast.
"It is a Kur, surely," he said.
"Yes," I said, "it is an adult Kur."
"It is a large one, is it not?" asked Samos.
"Yes," I said, "but I have seen many larger."
"As nearly as we can determine," said Samos, "it is only a beast, and not rational."
It was chained in six places, at the wrists and ankles, and about the waist, and again about the throat. Any of the chains might have held a bosk or a
larl. It snarled, opening its fanged mouth.
"Where did you take it?" I asked.
"I bought it from hunters," said Samos. "It was taken southeast of Ar, proceeding in a southeasternly direction."
"That seems unlikely," I said. Few Goreans would venture in that direction.
"It is true," said Samos. "I know the chief of the hunting pride. His declaration was dear. Six men died in its capture." The beast sat, somnolent,
"But why would it, a Kur, venture to such a place?" I asked.
"Perhaps it is insane?" suggested Samos.
"What purpose would such a journey serve for a Kur?" I asked.
Samos shrugged. "We have been unable to communicate with it" he said to me. "Perhaps not all Kurii are rational," He said. "Perhaps this one, as
perhaps some of the others, is simply a dangerous beast, nothing more."
I looked into the beast's eyes. Its lips, slightly, drew back. I smiled.
"We have beaten it" said Samos. "We have whipped it, and prodded it. We have denied it food."
"Torture?" I asked.
"It did not respond to torture," said Samos, "I think it is irrational."
"What was your purpose?" I asked it. "What was your mission?"
The beast said nothing.
I rose to my feet. "Let us return to the hall," I said.
"Very well," said Samos. We left the chamber. Tribesmen of Gor, page 17-18
We know little about that species of animal called the Kur. We do know it is blood-thirsty, that it feeds on human flesh and that it is concerned with
glory. Beasts of Gor, page 7
Incidentally, there are many brands on Gor. Two that almost never occur on Gor, by the way, are those of the moons and the collar, and of the chain
and the claw. The first of these commonly occurs in certain of the Gorean enclaves on Earth, which serves as headquarters for agents of the priest
kings, the second tends to occur in the lairs of the Kurii agents on earth; the chain and claw brand, signifies, of course, slavery and subjection within the
compass of the Kur yoke. Explorers of Gor, page 12
In the doorway, silhouetted against flames behind them we saw great, black, shaggy figures. Then one leapt within the hall. In one hand it carried a
gigantic ax, whose handle was perhaps eight feet long, whose blade, from tip to tip, might have been better than two feet in length; on its other arm it
carried a great, round, iron shield, double strapped; it lifted it, and the ax; its arms were incredibly long, perhaps some seven feet in length; about its
left arm was a spiral band of gold; it was the Kur which had addressed the assembly. It threw back its head and opened its jaws, eyes blazing, and
uttered the blood roar of the aroused Kur; then it bent over, regarding us, shoulders hunched, its claws leaping from its soft, furred sheaths; it then laid
its ears back flat against the sides of its great head. No one could move. Then, other Kurii behind it, crowding about it, past it, it shrieked, lips drawn
back, with a hideous sound, which, somehow, from its lips and mien, and mostly from its eyes, I took to be a sign of pleasure, of anticipation; I would
learn later that this sound is instinctively uttered by Kurii when they are preparing to take blood. Marauders of Gor, page 203
I sat down, cross-legged, some twenty feet in front of the platform, and waited. I watched the thing on the platform. It was large, and shaggy, and
curled upon itself, and alive. I was not sure, initially, if there were one or more things on the platform. But then I became confident it was only one thing.
I had not realized he was so gigantic. I sat quietly, watching it breathe.
After a time it stirred. Then, with an ease, an indolent smoothness of motion startling in so large a beast it sat up on the platform, regarding me. It
blinked. The pupils of its eyes were like dark moons. It yawned. I saw the double row of fangs, inclined backward in the mouth, to move caught meat
toward the throat. It blinked again, and began to lick its paws. Its long, dark tongue, too, cleaned the fur about its mouth. It turned away and went to a
side of the room where it relieved itself. A lever, depressed, released water, washing the waste away. The animal scratched twice on the plates near
where it had relieved itself, as though reflexively covering its spoor. It then, moving on all fours, lightly, moved forward, around the platform, and went
to the sunken basin of water in the room. It put down its cupped paws and splashed water in its face, and then shook its head. Too, it took water in its
cupped paws, and drank. With one paw it gestured that I should approach, and palm open on the appendage, indicated that I might use the water.
Crouching down I took a bit of water in the palm of my hand and drank.
We looked at one another across the sunken basin. The animal, on all fours, withdrew from the edge of the basin. It projected its claws and scratched
on the rug like sub-stance on the walls. Then, claws catching in the heavy material, it moved up the wall, stretching and twisting its body. Then it
dropped down to a pole in the scaffolding. It sat there for a moment, and then, lightly, swung from one pole to another, and then returned, dropping
lightly, for an animal of its weight, to the floor before the platform. It stretched again, catlike. And then it rose to its hind feet and looked down at me. It
was more than eight feet in height. I would have conjectured its weight at some nine hundred pounds. Then it dropped again to all fours and moved to
the table on which there reposed the dark, box like object. It moved a switch on the box. It uttered sounds, low, guttural, inquisitive. It did not use
human phonemes and. so it is difficult, if not impossible, to convey the quality of the sound. If you have heard the noises made by great rats, such as
the Bengal tiger or the black-maned lion, and can conceive of such noises articulated with the subtlety and precision of a civilized speech, that will
provide you with an approximation of what I heard. On the other hand, the vocal apparatus of the beast was not even of Earth origin. Certain of its
sounds, for example, were more reminiscent of the snort of the boar, the snuffling of the grizzly, the hiss of the snake, than those of the large cats. The
phonemes of such beasts are unmistakable, but they are, truly, like nothing Earth has prepared one to hear. They are different, not of Earth, alien. To
hear these noises, and know they are a speech can be initially very frightening. Evolution did not prepare those of Earth to find intelligence in such a
The beast was then silent.
"Are you hungry?" I heard. The sounds, separate, had been emitted from the dark, flatish, box like object on the table. It was, then, a translator.
"Not particularly," I said,
After a moment a set of sounds, brief, like a growl, came from the translator. I smiled. The beast shrugged. It shambled to the side of the room, and
there pressed a switch. A metal panel slid up. I heard a squeal and a small animal, a lart, fled from within toward the opening. It happened quickly. The
large six-digited paw of the beast closed about the lart, hideously squealing, and lifted it to its mouth, where it bit through the back of its neck, spitting
out vertebrae. The lart, dead, but spasmodically trembling, was then held in the beast's mouth. It then, with its claws freed, opened its furs and, by feel,
delicately, regarding me, fingered out various organs which it laid on the floor before it. In moments it had removed the animal from its mouth. Absently,
removing meat from the carcass, it fed.
"You do not cook your meat?" I asked. The translator, turned on, accepted the human phonemes, processed them, and, momentarily, produced audible,
correspondent phonemes in one of the languages of the Kur. The beast responded. I waited.
"We sometimes do," he said. It looked at me. "Cooked meat weakens the jaws," it said.
"Fire, and cooked meat," I said, "makes possible a smaller jaw and smaller teeth, permitting less cranial musculature and permitting the development of
a larger brain case."
"Our brain cases are larger than those of humans," it said. "Our anatomy could not well support a larger cranial development. In our history, as in yours,
larger brain cases have been selected for."
"In what way?" I asked.
"In the killings," it said.
"The Kur is not a social animal?" I asked. "It is a social animal," it said. "But it is not as social as the human."
"That is perhaps a drawback to it as a species," I said. "It has its advantages," it said. "The Kur can live alone. It can go its own way. It does not need
its beard." "Surely, in ancient times, Kurii came together," I said. "Yes," it said, "in the matings, and the killings." It looked at me, chewing. "But that was
long ago," it said. "We have had civilization for one hundred thousand years, as you would understand these things. In the dawn of our prehistory small
bands emerged from the burrows and the caves and forests. It was a beginning."
"How can such an animal have a civilization?" I asked.
"Discipline," it said.
"That is a slender thread with which to restrain such fierce, titanic instincts," I said. The beast extended to me a thigh of the ]art.
"True," it said. "I see you understand us well." I took the meat and chewed on it. It was fresh, warm, still porous with blood.
"You like it, do you not?" asked the beast.
"Yes," I said.
"You see," it said, "you are not so different from us."
"I have never claimed to be," I said. "Is not civilization as great an achievement for your species as for mine?" it asked.
"Perhaps," I said.
"Are the threads on which your survival depends stouter than those on which ours depends?" it asked.
"Perhaps not," I said.
"I know little of humans," it said, "but it is my under-standing that most of them are liars and hypocrites. I do not include you in this general charge."
I nodded. "They think of themselves as civilized animals, and yet they are only animals with a civilization. There is quite a difference."
"Admittedly," I said.
"Those of Earth, as I understand it, which is your home world, are the most despicable. They are petty. They mistake weakness for virtue. They take
their lack of appetite, their in-capacity to feel, as a merit. How small they are. The more they betray their own nature the more they congratulate
themselves on their perfection. And they put economic gain above all. Their greed and their fevered scratching repulses me."
"Not all on Earth are like that," I said.
"It is a food world," it said, "and the food is not of the best."
"What do you put above all?" I asked.
"Glory," it said. It looked at me. "Can you understand that?" it asked.
"I can understand it," I said.
"We are soldiers," it said, "the two of us.
"How is it that an animal without strong social instincts can be concerned with glory?" I asked.
"It emerges, we speculate, from the killings."
"The killings?" I asked.
"Even before the first groups," it said, "we would gather for the matings and killings. Great circles, rings of our people, would form in valleys, to watch."
"You fought for mates?" I asked.
"We fought for the joy of killing," it said. "Mating, how- ever, was a prerogative of the victor."
It took a rib bone from the lart and began to thrust it, scraping, between its fangs, freeing and removing bits of wedged meat. "Humans, as I
understand it, have two sexes, which, among them, per-form all the functions pertinent to the continuance of the species."
"Yes," I said, "that is true."
"We have three, or, if you prefer, four sexes,' it said.
'There is the dominant, which would, I suppose, correspond most closely to the human male. It is the instinct of the dominant to enter the killings and
mate. There is then a form of Kur which closely resembles the dominant but does not join in the killings or mate. You may, or may not, regard this as two
sexes. There is then the egg-carrier who is impregnated. This form of Kur is smaller than the dominant or the non-dominant, speaking thusly of the non-
reproducing form of Kur.
"The egg-carrier is the female," I said.
"If you like," said the beast, "but, shortly after impregnation, within a moon, the egg-carrier deposits the fertilized seed in the third form of Kur, which is
mouthed, but sluggish and immobile. These fasten themselves to hard surfaces, rather like dark, globular anemones. The egg develops inside the body
of the blood-nurser and, some months later, it tears its way free."
"It has no mother,' I said.
"Not in the human sense," it said. 'It will, however, usually follow, unless it itself is a blood-nurser, which is drawn out, the first Kur it sees, providing it is
either an egg-carrier or a non-dominant."
"What if it sees a dominants' I asked.
"If it is itself an egg-carrier or a non-dominant, it will shun the dominant," it said. "This is not unwise, for the dominant may kill it."
"What if it itself is potentially a dominant?" I asked. The lips of the beast drew back.
"That is what all hope," it said. "If it is a dominant and it encounters a dominant, it win bare its tiny fangs and expose its claws."
"Will the dominant not kill it -then?" I asked.
"Perhaps later in the killings, when it is large and strong," he said, "but certainly not when it is small. It is on such that the continuance of the species
depends. You see, it must be tested in the killings."
"Are you a dominants' I asked.
"Of course," it said. Then it added, "I shall not kill you for the question."
"I meant no harm," I said. Its lips drew back.
"Are most Kurii dominants?" I asked.
"Most are born dominants," it said, "but most do not survive the killings."
"It seems surprising that there are many Kurii," I said.
"Not at all," he said. "The egg-carriers can be frequently impregnated and frequently deposit the fertilized egg in a blood-nurser. There are large
numbers of blood-nursers. In the human species it takes several months for a female to carry and deliver an offspring. In the same amount of time a Kur
egg-carrier will develop seven to eight eggs, each of which may be fertilized and deposited in a blood-nurser."
"Do Kur young not drink milk?" I asked.
"The young receive blood in the nurser," he said. "When it is born it does not need milk, but water and common protein."
"It is born fanged?" I asked.
"Of course," it said. "And it is capable of stalking and killing small animals shortly after it leaves the nurser."
"Are the nursers rational?" I asked.
"We do not think so," it said.
"Can they feel anything?" I asked.
"They doubtless have some form of sensation," it said. "They recoil when struck or burned."
"But there are native Kurii on Gor," I said, "or, at any rate, Kurii who have reproduced themselves on this world."
"Certain ships, some of them originally intended for colonization, carried representatives of our various sexes, with the exception of the non-
dominants," it said. "We have also, where we knew of Kurii groups, sometimes managed to bring in egg-carriers and blood-nursers."
"It is to your advantage that there be native Kurii," I said.
"Of course," he said, "yet they are seldom useful allies. They lapse too swiftly into barbarism." He lowered the bone with which he was picking his teeth
and threw it, and the re-mains of the lart, to the side of the room. He then took a soft, white cloth from a drawer in the table on which the translator
reposed, and wiped his paws. "Civilization is fragile," he said.
"Is there an order among your sexes?" I asked.
"Of course there is a biological order," he said. "Structure is a function of nature. How could it be otherwise? "There is first the dominant, and then the
egg-carrier, and then the non-dominant, and then, if one considers such things Kur, the blood-nurser."
"The female, or egg-carrier, is dominant over the non-dominant?" I asked.
"Of course," he said. "They are despicable."
"Suppose a dominant is victorious in the killings," I said. "Then what occurs?"
"Many things could occur," he said, "but he then, generally, with a club, would indicate what egg-carriers he desires. He then ties them together and
drives them to his cave. In the cave he impregnates them and makes them serve him."
"Do they attempt to run away?" I asked.
"No," he said. "He would hunt them down and kill them. But after he has impregnated them they tend to remain, even when untied, for he is then their
"What of the non-dominants?" I asked.
"They remain outside the cave until the dominant is finished, fearing him muchly. When he has left the cave they creep within, bringing meat and gifts to
the females, that they may be permitted to remain within the cave, as part of the dominant's household. They serve under the females and take their
orders from them. Most work, including the care of the young, is performed by non-dominants."
'I do not think I would care to be a non-dominant," I said.
"They are totally despicable," he said, "but yet, oddly, sometimes a non-dominant becomes a dominant. This is a hard thing to understand. Sometimes it
happens when there is no dominant- in the vicinity. Sometimes it seems to happen for no obvious reason; sometimes it happens when a non-dominant
is humiliated and worked beyond his level of tolerance. It is interesting. This occasional, almost inexplicable transformation of a non-dominant into a
dominant is the reason our biologists differ as to whether our species has three, or four sexes."
"Perhaps the non-dominant is only a latent dominant," I .said.
"Perhaps," be said. "It is hard to tell."
The restriction of mating to the dominants' " I said, 'Thus the selections in the killings, must tend to produce a species unusually aggressive and savage."
"It tends also to produce one that is extremely intelligent," said the animal. I nodded.
"But we are civilized folk," said the animal. It rose to it,) feet and went to a cabinet. "You must not think of us in terms of our bloody past."
"Then, on the steel ships," I said, "the killings, and the fierce matings, no longer take place."
The animal, at the opened cabinet, turned to regard me. "I did not say that," he said.
"The killings and the matings then continue to take place on the steel worlds?" I asked.
"Of course," be said.
'Me past, then, is still with you on the steel worlds," i said.
"Yes," it said. "Is the past not always with us "Perhaps," I said.
The beast returned from the cabinet with two glasses and a bottle.
"Is that not the paga of Ar?" I asked.
"Is it not one of your favorites?" he asked. "See," he said. "It has the seal of the brewer, Temus."
"That is remarkable," I said. "You are very thoughtful."
"I have been saving it," he told me.
"For me?" I asked.
"Of course," he said. "I was confident you would get through.'
"I am honored," I said.
"I have waited so long to talk to you," he said. He poured two glasses of paga, and re-closed the bottle. We lifted the glasses, and touched them, the
one to the other. "To our war," he said.
"To our war," I said.
"I cannot even pronounce Your name," I said.
"It will be sufficient," he said, "to call me Zarendargar, which can be pronounced by human beings, or, if you like, even more simply, Half-Ear." Beast of
Gor page 364 to 370(some edited)
…slaves are chained at night to avoid becoming the snack of Kurii…“The soft flesh of the human female, I knew, was regarded as a delicacy among the
Kurii.” Marauders of Gor, page 177
Emerging then from the ranks of the enemy came a gigantic Kur, some nine feet in height, some nine hundred pounds in weight. It carried a huge shield
and lance, the accoutrements of a man. Behind it, on each side, similarly armed, came others. Blood brothers of Gor, page 265
The pupils of its eyes, in the sunlight, were extremely small and black. They were like points in the yellowish green cornea. I knew that, in darkness,
they could swell, like dark moons, to fill almost the entire optic orifice, some three or four inches in width. Evolution, on some distant, perhaps vanished
world, had adapted this life form for both diurnal and nocturnal hunting. Doubtless, like the cat, it hunted when hungry, and its efficient visual capacities,
like those of the cats, meant that there was no time of the day or night when it might not be feared. Its head was approximately the width of the chest
of a large man. It had a flat snout, with wide nostrils. Its ears were large, and pointed. They lifted from the side of its head, listening, and then lay back
against the furred sides of the head. Kurii, I had been told, usually, in meeting men, laid the ears back against the sides of their heads, to increase their
resemblance to humans. The ears are often laid back, also, incidentally, in hostility or anger, and, always, in its attacks. It is apparently physiologically
impossible for a Kur to attack without its shoulders hunching, its claws emerging, and its ears lying back against the head. The nostrils of the beast
drank in what information it wished, as they, like its eyes, surveyed the throng. The trailing capacities of the Kurii are not as superb as those of the
sleen, but they were reputed to be the equal of those of larls. The hearing, similarly, is acute. Again it is equated with that of the larl, and not the
sharply-sensed sleen. There was little doubt that the day vision of the Kurii was equivalent to that of men, if not superior, and the night vision, of
course, was infinitely superior; their sense of smell, too, of course, was incomparably superior to that of men, and their sense of hearing as well.
Moreover, they, like men, were rational. Like men, they were a single-brained organism, limited by a spinal column. Their intelligence, by Priest-Kings,
though the brain was much larger, was rated as equivalent to that of men, and showed similar random distributions throughout gene pools. What made
them such dreaded foes was not so much their intelligence or, on the steel worlds, their technological capacities, as their aggressiveness, their
persistence their emotional commitments, their need to populate and expand, their innate savagery. The beast was approximately nine feet in height; I
conjectured its weight in the neighbourhood of eight or nine hundred pounds. Interestingly, Priest-Kings, who are not visually oriented organisms, find
little difference between Kurii and men. To me this seems preposterous, for ones so wise as Priest-Kings, but, in spite of its obvious falsity, Priest-Kings
regard the Kurii and men as rather similar, almost equivalent species. One difference they do remark between the human and the Kur, and that is that
the human, commonly, has an inhibition against killing. This inhibition the Kur lacks. Marauders of Gor, page 169-170
The Kur has two rows of fangs. Its mouth is large enough to take into it the head of a full-grown man. Its canines, in the front row of fangs, top and
bottom, are long. When it closes its mouth the upper two canines project over the lower lip and jaw. Its tongue is long and dark, the interior of its
mouth reddish. Marauders of Gor, page 170
The prehensile paws, or hands, of the Kurii are six-digited and multiple jointed. The legs are thick and short. In spite of the shortness of the legs the Kur
can, when it wishes, by utilizing its upper appendages, in the manner of a prairie simian, like the baboon, move with great rapidity. It becomes, in
running, what is, in effect, a four-footed animal. It has the erect posture, permitting brain development and facilitating acute binocular vision, of a biped.
This posture, too, of course, greatly in-creases the scanning range of the visual sensors. But, too, its anatomy permits it to function, in flight and attack,
much as a four-legged beast. For short distances it can outrun a full-grown tarsk. It is also said to possess great stamina, but of this I am much less
certain. Few animals, which have not been trained, have, or need, stamina. An exception would be pack hunters, like the wolves or hunting dogs of
Earth. Marauders of Gor, page 171
The men stirred uneasily. I listened intently. I knew that Kurii did not, for the most part, inhabit areas frequented by men. On the other hand, the Kurii
on the platform, and other Kurii I had encountered, had been dark-furred, either brownish, or brownish red or black. I wondered if it were only the
darker furred Kurii that roamed southward. But if these Kurii on the platform were snow-adapted, their fur did not suggest this. I wondered if they might
be from the steel ships, either recently, or within too few generations for a snow-adaptation pattern to have been developed. If the Kurii were
sufficiently successful, of course, there would be no particular likelihood of evolution selecting for snow adaption. Too, it could be that, in summer, the
Kurii shed white fur and developed, in effect, a summer coat. Still I regarded it unlikely that these Kurii were from as far north as his words might
suggest. Marauders of Gor, page 171-172
“That we will furnish you?” asked Svein Blue rooth. I saw spear points lifted among the crowd.
“We will require,” said the Kur, “for each day of the march, as provisions, a hundred verr, a hundred tarsk, a hundred bosk, one hundred healthy
property-females, of the sort you refer to as bond-maids.”
“As provisions?” asked the Blue Tooth, puzzled.
Among the Kurii, in their various languages, were words referring to edible meat, food. These general terms, in their scope, included human beings.
These terms were sometimes best translated as “meat animal” and sometimes “cattle” or, sometimes, simply “food.” The human being was regarded,
by Kurii, as falling within the scope of application of such terms. The term translated “cattle” was sometimes qualified to discriminate between four-
legged cattle and two-legged cattle, of which the Kurii were familiar with two varieties, the bounding Hurt and the human.
“Yes,” said the Kur.
Svein Blue Tooth laughed.
The Kur, this time, did not seem amused. “We do not ask for any of your precious free females,” it said.
The soft flesh of the human female, I knew, was regarded as a delicacy among the Kurii.
“We have better uses for our bond-maids,” said Svein Blue Tooth, “than to feed them to Kurii.”
There was great laughter in the field. Marauders of Gor, pages 177-178
The Jarl, then, took, from the hands of Ivar Forkbeard´s man, the leather-wrapped object.
It was a round, flat, six-sectioned loaf of Sa-Tarna bread.
The Kur looked at it. I could not read his expression.
“Feed,” invited Svein Blue Tooth.
The Kur reached out and took the loaf. “I shall take this to my camp,” it said, “as a token of the good will of the men of Torvaldsland.”
“Feed,” invited Svein Blue Tooth.
The two Kurii behind the speaker growled, soft, like irritated larls.
It made the hair on my neck rise to hear them, for I knew they had spoken to one another.
The Kur looked upon the loaf, as we might have looked on grass, or wood, or the shell of a turtle.
Then, slowly, he put it in his mouth. Scarcely had he swallowed it than he howled with nausea, and cast it up.
I knew then that this Kur, if not all, was carnivorous.
It then stood on the platform, its shoulders hunched; I saw the claws expose themselves; the ears were back flat against its head; its eyes blazed.
Marauders of Gor, pages 178-179
I heard the tiny wheel scratch at the flint. I did not take my eyes from the things at the far end of the room, on the floor, half hidden by a large table,
the area open behind them leading to the ruined tarn cot. It is not wise to look away from such things, if they are in the vicinity, or to turn one's back
upon them. I did not know if they were asleep or not. I guessed that they were not. My hand rested on the hilt of my sword. Such things, I had reason
to know, could move with surprising speed.
The wick of the fire-maker was now aflame. Samos, carefully, held the tiny flame to the wick of the now-unshuttered dark lantern. It, too, burned
I was confident now, in the additional light, that the things were not asleep. When the light had been struck, with the tiny noise, from the steel and
flint, which would have been quite obvious to them, given the unusual degree of their auditory acuity, there had been only the slightest of muscular
contractions. Had they been startled out of sleep, the reaction, I was confident, would have been far more noticeable. I had little doubt they were, and
had been, from the first, clearly and exactly aware of our presence. Savages of Gor, page 15-16
Obediently they all, including the fellow who had been most forward, drew back.
I did not take my eyes from the beast. It raised one darkly stained paw. The hair between the digits was matted and stuck together. I supposed this
was from the kill a pasang or so back.
I backed the kaiila a step or two from the beast. "Back away," I told the men. They obeyed.
The fur of the beast was rent and thick, here and there, with clotted blood. I think, more than once, it might have been struck with lances. It had
perhaps lost consciousness in the grass, from the loss of blood, and had been left for dead. It was not the sort of thing the red savages would mutilate.
They were unfamiliar with it. They would presumably classify it with sleen or urts, not men.
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.
Savages of Gor, page 270, 271