How long shall I ruminate on what it means to be of Gor? Of Tuchuk? I think of the family I have shared here on the plains of Turia and smile in acknowledgement. I think of my own journey. The journey that my Ubar travels now with his creator. I think of those I called My Brother. The Men who were My Brothers and will always be. The slaves I wanted nothing more. The Free Women who were deserving of My affections. Time is an ugly thing. Parts of Me will always remain in Tuchuk. My Brother Ragnar has gone, Kurzon before Him. I, live on. Taking from Their lessons. To those who remain, know I think of Y/you.
With the Sharpest of Quiva,
~Dylan~
Warrior Poet
Askari Orluman
