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Then all, save perhaps those closest to the noble Ubar of the city, began to cry out and cheer, and pound their fists on their left shoulder. - (Assassin of Gor, Chapter 22, Sentence #216)

It was Green Ubar as I had heard speak of him, Green Ubar of the legends, Green Ubar as he had been in the stories told by men who had seen him years before, Green Ubar, greatest of the racing tarns, holder of awards, victorious, triumphant. When the bird came first to the perches of victory there was no sound from the crowd, that vast multitude totally silent. Second was the startled Menicius of Port Kar, the palm of victory snatched from his grip. Then all, save perhaps those closest to the noble Ubar of the city, began to cry out and cheer, and pound their fists on their left shoulder. The bird stood there on the perch, and Mip straightened himself painfully in the saddle. The bird lifted its head, resplendent, fantastic, and uttered the victory scream of the tarn. Then it tumbled from the perch into the sand. - (Assassin of Gor)