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"Hold! Gold or steel! Hold!" "Gold!" cried Tullius Quintus, "as and when it pleases me!" "Sleen!" cried the other voice. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 15, Sentence #325)

Can one die of such things? How frightening, and amazing, it would seem to me, later, to understand that men, some rare, few men, dare to share the sky with such things. But a moment after this startling sound, I heard a human voice, from some yards away. "Hold!" it cried. "Hold! Gold or steel! Hold!" "Gold!" cried Tullius Quintus, "as and when it pleases me!" "Sleen!" cried the other voice. There was suddenly a great crack, as of the smiting of wind, like the crack of sails, like the snapping of a mighty banner, or whip, and the very basket in which I was held shook, and then, suddenly, the ropes were taut, and the basket, as I screamed in fear, thrown back, helpless in my bonds and strap, slid rapidly across the wooden platform, and, a moment later, it seemed to leap from the planks and it swung free, how far above the land I did not know. Then I screamed, again, for suddenly, with a ripping of fiber, an object, short, narrow, cylindrical, pointed, metal-finned, had burst up through the floor of the basket in which I lay. It was the first quarrel I had ever seen, and it had introduced itself not more than a foot from my side. - (Plunder of Gor)