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I woke slowly, my body reminding me almost immediately of yesterday’s work with the axe. The bruises and wounds that had plagued me for so long were little more than fading memories now, but my shoulders and back protested every movement, sore from the hours I had spent chopping wood. I stretched carefully beneath the furs, rolling one shoulder and then the other before finally sitting up with a…
Waking in the early hours of the morning, still shaken by the startlingly realistic dream I had the night before, I rose from the furs and quickly got the fire going once again. Deciding I might as well spoil myself, I set about making myself a fresh cup of tea, grateful for the warmth as the biting chill of morning settled into the cave. Taking my tea, I started toward my usual place to sit whe…
The Eighth Passing Hand, had settled firmly upon the Northern Forest, and there was no mistaking what it meant. The air had grown sharply colder, the forest canopy thinning as the leaves surrendered to the season, and the hours of useful daylight seemed to vanish almost as quickly as the warmth from the sun. Se’Kara had just passed and for hunters and Panther Girls alike, that was not a season fo…
Dear Fellow Gorean Roleplayers, Due to the unfortunate circumstances surrounding a typist’s apparent inability or unwillingness to follow established Gorean protocols, customs, and codes, I hereby make the following declaration on this day, October 4th, in the Earth year 2026. I, the typist of Melete, do hereby declare that I neither acknowledge nor will I ever acknowledge the character known a…
A full hand had passed since I had found myself alone in the forest, and somewhere within those five days the sharpness of my anger had begun to dull into something quieter. The first days had been filled with restless thoughts and an almost constant awareness of the empty space beside me, my mind returning again and again to the same questions. Where was Scar? Was he safe? Had he found what he h…
Hello, everyone. This is the typist behind Melete, and I have a few bones to pick with a few of you… specifically, the typists of certain Vendara Goreans. Today, my blog was hijacked by a ranting woman who apparently believed she was somehow rescuing me from a Gorean FM with whom she has a personal issue. She went so far as to tell me I was welcome for the lesson, as though I owed her some sort…