Darwin of Tabor

originally posted June 17, 2006

"Describe this Michael to me," I instructed the girl, Joy.
We were in the bowels of the House of Clark, Joy, Sana and I, eight floors below. Here, in a world of cement and iron bars, are the dregs of Gorean society. Some are criminals. Some are men who simply have chosen not to be men. A serious Gorean thespian would not deign to attach his name to the play I've chosen to produce. With a cast of kajirae, if I chose to have a male character I had one of two choices. The part would have to be played by a girl dressed as a man or by a male slave. I chose the latter.
"He was a bit taller than me, my Master," she said. "He was dark-haired and had blue eyes."
I nodded to Seibar, the keeper of these cells on the eight sub-level of the House of Clark. He rattled the bars with his club and pointed out two such fellows. I urged the girl, Joy, to assess their fittingness for the role. 'Michael' was a fellow of Earth that, before acquisition, she had a relationship with. He was, in her opinion, a typical man of that world. When she pointed out the fellow who she felt was the most reasonable facsimile of 'Michael' with respect to appearance, Siebar told me about him.
"That was Darwin from the exchange island of Tabor," he told me. "A Clothworker, his shoppe was ransacked by raider pirates from Port Kar. With his neck at the sword, he begged for his life. He was, then, found too weak to pull an oar and was sold off, eventually finding himself here."
Seibar spat upon the floor, disgusted. The door of the cell was opened and he thrust the fellow to his feet by the upper arm. The wretch, once called Darwin, was chained to a heavy ring in the floor at both wrists. They were crossed before him, held in place by the iron.
"He is suitably docile?" I inquired.
Seibar chuckled and grabbed Sana with his idle hand, thrusting her curves and her alluring scent, that of a female, against the chained fellow. To my surprise, he jerked in his chains in an attempt to avoid the touch and dropped his chin to his chest. Joy, I noted, clenched her fists at the fellow's reaction. Her response, I thought was telling. This fellow was, indeed, fitting.
"His likeness, in more than appearance, was creepy," she confided.