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The great cry that had rent the morning air, as Lord Grendel had rushed upon his foes, terrified me, in its sudden, unexpected, thunderous loudness, in its nearness, in its might and bestiality. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 55, Sentence #1)

"You feared treachery," said Kurik. "I know Lord Agamemnon," said Lord Grendel. He then, with a wild cry, which I feared was a war cry of Kurii, the great chain spinning about, hissing in the air, almost invisible, a blur in the morning sky, rushed upon his startled foes. The great cry that had rent the morning air, as Lord Grendel had rushed upon his foes, terrified me, in its sudden, unexpected, thunderous loudness, in its nearness, in its might and bestiality. For a moment afterwards it seemed I could hear nothing, as though lightning had struck near me, shattering a roof or tree, so frightening and deafening had been the sound. Too, I could not move, surely for an Ihn or two, for the moment in which I heard that cry, so close, and wild, I was shocked, paralyzed, immobile, frozen in place, despite the obvious need to hurry in his wake. Would not such a cry, as the roar of the larl, startle and momentarily immobilize a quarry, or foe, allowing for the rapid, unchallenged advance, the strike or pounce, of the predator, the assailant? I suspected it was an ancient cry, such as might well have antedated the working of metals, a cry that might have first been heard on a far world, one perhaps now destroyed or sterile, a cry that might have rung out in primitive, brutal combat, in small, isolated wars, fought between small groups with sharpened poles and stakes, with clubs and cast rocks. - (Plunder of Gor)