Entering Treve
Citizens of Treve know the way to Treve. Only a select few non-citizen free persons will be allowed to enter the city. In order for a non-citizen free person to be escorted to the city, they must apply for a visa in Minus; applying does not guarantee acceptance. Just like any other gated city, you have to be allowed entry. Our gates just happen to be the Voltai Mountains. The free person must have a legitimate reason for the application. All free allowed entry will be hooded and escorted by a Warrior of Treve.
Visas will be considered for the following:
Ambassadors
Heralds
Entertainers
Players
Merchants
Assassins
Meters are discouraged in Treve, except for pre-arranged contests. This is because IC'ly most visitors to Treve would be disarmed prior to transport. Disarming is too hard to control IC'ly, and thus we prefer for those in Treve to not wear meters. When you take your meter off, everyone is effectively disarmed!
Indeed, there was little known even of the city of Treve. It lay somewhere among the lofty, vast terrains of the rugged Voltai, perhaps as much a fortress, a lair, of outlaw tarnsmen as a city. It was said to be accessible only on tarn back. No woman, it was said, could be brought to the city, save as a hooded, stripped slave girl, bound across the saddle of a tarn. Indeed, even merchants and ambassadors were permitted to approach the city only under conduct, and then only when hooded and in bonds, as though none not of Treve might approach her save as slaves or captive supplicants. The location of the city, it was said, was known only to her own. Even girls brought to Treve as slaves, obedient within her harsh walls, looking up, seeing her rushing, swift skies, did not know wherein lay the city in which they served. And even should they be dispatched to the walls, perhaps upon some servile errand, they could see, for looming, remote pasangs about them, only the wild, bleak crags of the scarlet Voltai, and the sickening drop below them, the sheer fall from the walls and the cliffs below to the valley, pasangs beneath. They would know only that they were slaves in this place but would not know where this place in which they were slaves might be. It is said no woman had ever escaped Treve.
Captive of Gor, page 191
"Treve is a bandit city, high among the crags of the larl-prowled Voltai. Most men do not even know its location. Once the tarnsmen of Treve had withstood the tarn cavalries of even Ar. In Treve they do not grow their own food but, in the fall, raid the harvests of others. They live by rapine and plunder. The men of Treve are said to be among the proudest and most ruthless on Gor. They are most fond of danger and free women, whom they bind and steal from civilized cities to carry to their mountain lair as slave girls. It is said the city can be reached only on tarnback."
Raiders of Gor, page 272
Tarnsmen, riders of the great tarns, called Brothers of the Wind, are masters of the open sky, fierce warriors whose battleground is the clouds and sky; they are not forest people; they do not care to stalk and hunt where, from the darkness of trees, from a canopy of foliage, they may meet suddenly, unexpectedly, a quarrel from the crossbow of an invisible assailant.
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 63
About Treve
Treve is called the Hidden City due to its location and the mode of transportation needed to visit. It is not on a main road. It does not have a port to sail into. It is tucked away safely within the crags of the mountains. For this reason, entry is not easy. (A security orb is in Treve. Please, do not prim into the area. You will be ejected to Minus for this. OOC tours are possible, just ask!) Treve has both high and low castes. We may be known to raid, but that does not mean we are a warring city; hence, we have an Administrator, not a Ubar.
“But an Ahn ago,” said the officer, “emissaries from Lurius of Jad have arrived in the city. They have
obtained clearances from the administration.
They are authorized to enter the depths.”
“Members of the black caste, the Assassins,” said the pit master. “They are not far behind you.”
“You know?”
“I have just received word.”
Witness of Gor, page 547
“Open!” we heard. “We have orders! Open!”
“The passage is sealed,” said the pit master.
“It must be opened,” said the officer. “The administration has cleared them. They have authorization."
“What has Rask said of this?” asked the pit master.
“He has pledged a thousand men to stop them,” said the
officer.
Witness of Gor
“It is you who are stupid, not me,” she said.
“Anyone would know where he was, here is this place. Do you think I do not know in what mountains I am? Do you think I cannot tell the coloration of the Voltai, the Scarlet Mountains? Do you think I am totally unaware of the distances and times I have traveled? Do you think I cannot recognize the accents of the men who brought me here? Do you think I cannot understand the emblems and accouterments of the men of this place? Do you think the markings on the tarn saddles are in some foreign tongue? Do you think the songs of the crowd are unintelligible to me? Do you not think I can recognize the seven towers of war, the wall of Valens, the standards on the bridge behind us, the banners about, those that fly even from the warehouses themselves?”
“I do not know,” I said.
“I am in Treve!” she cried. “I am in Treve!”
"Over the coals, on a tripod, there was, warming, a small metal wine bowl. Warriors of Treve, I had heard, had a fondness for warm wines."
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 274
Many of the girls ran to individual warriors, their eyes shining, leaping up and seizing the stirrups, pulling themselves up and putting their cheeks against their soft leather boots.
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 291
A girl would cry, “They return!” and we, eager in our work
tunics, would run to the center of the camp to greet the
returning warriors. Many of the girls would be laughing and
waving, leaping up and down, and standing on their tiptoes. I
did not betray such emotion, but I, too, found myself eager,
almost uncontrollably excited, to witness the return of the
warriors. How fine they were, such magnificent males!
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 291
Terence of Treve, mercenary captain of the tarnsmen, had refused to return to Port Kar before the return of the fleet. The environs of Port Kar might now be filled with tarnsmen, other mercenaries, but in the hire of the rebellious Ubars, and Claudius, regent of Henrius Sevarius. "We men of Treve are brave," had said he, "but we are not mad."
Raiders of Gor Book 6 Page 284
"Who is the captain of the mercenaries who fly for Vonda?" I asked. "Is it such men as Terence of Treve or Ha-Keel, once of Ar?" These were two well-known mercenary captains. Others were Oleg of Skjern, Leander of Farnacium and William of Thentis.
Fighting Slave of Gor Book 14 Page 265
He in the chair was clearly her master. I did not even know his name. He was an officer in this city, it seemed, a captain, or perhaps even a high captain.
Witness of Gor (Gorean Saga Book 26) . Kindle Edition; Location 3719.
Rask of Treve, it was said, like many Gorean warriors, preferred free women, enjoying the delicious agonies of his prey, as he reduced them to the utterness of the surrendered female slave.
Captive of Gor Book 7 Page 192
Four men held me, naked, near the brazier. I could feel the heat blazing from the cannister. The sky was very blue, the clouds were white.
"Please, no!" I wept.
I saw Rask, with a heave glove, draw forth one of the irons from the fire. It reminated in a tiny letter, not more that a quarter of an inch high. The letter was white hot.
"This is a penalty brand," he said. "It marks you as a liar."
"Please, Master!" I wept.
"I no longer have patience with you," he said. "Be marked as what you are." I screamed uncontrollably as he pressed in the iron, holding it firmly into my leg. Then, after some two to four Ihn, he removed it.
I could not stop screaming with pain. I smelled the odor of burned flesh, my own. I began to whimper. I could not breathe. I gasped for breath. Still the men held me.
"This penalty brand,' said Rask of Treve, lifting another iron from the brazier, again with a tyny letter at its glowing termination, "marks you also as what you are, as a thief."
"Please, no, Master!" I wept.
I could not move a muscle of my left leg. It might as well have been locked in a vise. It must wait for the iron. I screamed again, uncontrollably. I had been branded as a thief.
"This third iron," said Rask of Treve, "'is, too, a penalty iron. I mark you with this not for myself, but for Ute."
Through raging tears I saw, white hot, the tiny letter.
"It marks you as a traitress," said Rask of Treve. He looked at me, with fury.
"Be marked as a traitress," he said. Then he pressed the thrid iron into my flesh. As it entered my flesh, biting and searing, I saw Ute watching, her face betraying no emotion. I screamed, and wept, and screamed. Still the men did not release me.
"Rask of Treve lifted the last iron from the fire. It was much larger, the letter at its termination some one and a half inches high.
It, too, was white hot. I knew the brand. I had seen it on Ena's thigh. It was the mark of Treve. Rask of Treve decided that my flesh should bear that mark. "No, Master, please!" I begged him.
"Yes, Worthless Slave," he said, "you will wear in your flesh the mark of the city of Treve."
"Please," I begged.
"When men ask you," said he, "who it was that marked you as a liar and a their, and traitress, point to this brand, and say, I was marked by one of Treve, who was displeased with me.
'Do not punish me with the iron!' I cried.
I could not move my thigh. It must wait, helpless, for the blazing kiss of the iron.
'No,' I cried. 'No!'
He approached me. I could feel the terrible heat of the iron, even inches from my body.
'Please, no!' I begged.
The iron was poised.
I saw his eyes and realized that I would receive no mercy. He was a tarnsman of Treve.' With the mark of Treve,' he said, 'I brand you slave.'"
My thigh felt as though it were burning. Tears, streamed from my eyes. I coughed, and could not breathe. I heard the voice of Rask of Treve. "To begin," he was saying, "you will receive one stroke for each letter of the word, "Liar," then one stroke for each letter of the word ‘Thief’, and then a stroke for each letter of the word ‘Traitress’. You will count the strokes."
I sobbed.
"Count," commanded Rask of Treve.
"I am illiterate," I wept. "I do not know how many to count!"
"There are four characters in the first expression," said Inge.
I looked at her with horror. I had not seen her until now. I did not want her to see me being beaten. I saw, too, now, for the first time, that Rena, too, stood nearby. I did not want them to see me being beaten.
"You made a great fuss when you were branded," said Inge.
"That is certainly true," agreed Rena.
"Count," commanded Rask of Treve.
"One!" I cried out in misery.
Suddenly my back exploded. I screamed but there was no sound. There seemed no breath in my body. And then there was only pain, and I almost lost consciousness. I hung by the wrists. There had been the terrible sound of the leather, and then the pain.
I could not stand it.
"Count!" I heard.
"No, no!’ I cried.
"Count," urged Inge, "or it will go hard with you."
"Count," pressed Rena. "Count!" The lash will not lower your value," she said. "The straps are too broad. They only punish."
"Two," I wept.
Again the leather fell and I gasped and twisted, hanging, burning from the pole. "Count!" said Rask of Treve.
"I cannot!" I wept. "I cannot."
"Three," said Ute. "I will count for her."
The lash fell again.
"Four," said Ute.
Twice, in my beating I lost consciousness, and twice I was revived, chilled water thrown on me.
At last the strokes had been counted. I hung my head down, helpless.
"Now," said Rask of Treve, "I shall beat you until it pleases me to stop."
Ten more strokes he gave to the helpless slave girl, who twice more lost consciousness, and twice more was awakened to the drenching of cold water. And then, as she scarcely understood, hanging half conscious in the fires of her pain, she heard him say, "Cut her down,"
The binding fiber was removed from her wrists but her hands, that she might not tear at her brands, were snapped behind her back in slave bracelets. Then, by the hair, she stumbling, scarcely able to stand, he dragged her to the small, square iron box which sat near the whipping pole, and thrust her within. Crouching inside the box, I saw the door shut, and heard the two heavy, flat bolts sliding into place. I then heard the click of two padlocks, securing them in place.
I was locked inside. I could see a tiny slit of the outside through the aperture in the iron door, about a half an inch in height and seven inches in width. There was a somewhat larger opening at the foot of the door, about two inches in height and a foot wide. The box itself was square, with dimensions of perhaps one yard square. It was hot, and dark.
I remembered that a slave girl, on my first day in the camp of Rask of Treve, had warned me, that if I lied or stole, I would be beaten and put in the slave box.
"Captive of Gor" Page 310-314