Meeting a New Friend
Please note that the Gorean Saga is a fictional series, and its world, customs, and values may not align with modern societal standards or moral principles.
This story is based off Chat logs and CHAT GPT was used to make it into this.
Gor is Copyrighted by John Norman
Sometimes you don’t expect to make a new friend. Sometimes you’re just lying face-down on the pavers, mildly traumatized, deeply embarrassed… and absolutely certain a giant bird has just tried to turn you into a dropped egg.
That’s how I met Sariel.
He was rolling onto his side when I arrived—mud on his cheek, ropes around his wrists, and panic in his wide eyes. He blinked up at me and squinted like he was trying to solve a riddle.
“Tal?” he asked.
Nope. New person.
I introduced myself gently. My name is Neeve, and I’m a physician. I assured him I wasn’t there to hurt him, just to help. He stared at me with sudden delight.
“A fish-ician!? I love fish!”
It took a moment to sort that one out.
I knelt beside him and carefully cut the ropes away. As I worked, the story tumbled out in pieces: a “feathery beast,” a terrifying flight into the sky, a threat about being squeezed until all his “tummy-water” came out. The fear had clearly shaken him badly.
He also whispered—while trying very hard to hide it—that the fright had, well… overwhelmed him.
Poor man.
When I corrected “fish-ician” to physician, he gasped with wonder. “Oh! A life-smith!”
I think I prefer that title now.
The Infirmary (and the Boots)
Once unbound, Sariel stood up—tall, imposing, and wearing the most enormous boots I have ever seen. I suggested we move to the infirmary so I could check him properly and get him into dry clothes.
He followed me with complete, soggy-trousered trust.
Inside, he looked around suspiciously. “Does life-smith want Sariel to sit on table?”
After some reassurance (and one very loud declaration of “NO FINGER IN BUTTHOLE!!”), we managed a proper examination—over a towel, no sticks involved.
Physically, he was fine. No broken bones. No internal injuries. Just shock, humiliation, and a wildly imaginative description of bodily functions.
As I checked him over, I asked about the boots.
That’s when I learned the boots were sacred.
He had won them in a duel. They protected his feet from forge fires, falling hammers, and “melty stuff.” He called them his “toe-houses.” Without them, he said, he’d just be “a soft squishy-toed man.”
It was impossible not to smile.
On Brothers, Birds, and Being Different
As the conversation unfolded, something softer emerged beneath the chaos.
Sariel tries to make friends. But apparently, those friendships often come with protective brothers, shouting threats, and—on at least one occasion—a dramatic airborne intimidation tactic.
“Everyone treat Sariel nice,” he said. “But no one want to be with Sariel.”
That sentence sat heavier than the rest.
He told me his tools were his family. They don’t yell. They don’t threaten. They don’t fly him into the air.
There’s something heartbreakingly honest about a man who trusts hammers more than people.
Powdered Tassa and New Trousers
I gave him a small vial of powdered tassa—strict instructions included. Just a pinch. Flick toward the bird’s face. Enough to make it sleepy. Not enough to make it fall on top of him.
He practiced the “pinch” with absolute seriousness.
Then I found him longer trousers to better accommodate the legendary toe-houses. He accepted them with reverence.
When I told him payment wasn’t necessary, he insisted on crafting me something anyway.
“A coat hook!” he declared. “Biggest, stiffest, most curly-ended hook in all of Gor!”
I have no doubt he will.
Friend
Before leaving, he carefully sounded out my name.
“Neeve.”
He said he would look for the letters on my house sign. He isn’t strong with reading, but he promised to try.
And then, clutching his boots and his potion, long trouser legs flapping around his ankles like confused banners, he headed back to his shop.
He paused at the door.
“Friend,” he said, blushing.
Yes, Sariel.
Friend.
And sometimes that’s all it takes—one frightened man, one patient life-smith, and a pair of very large boots.
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