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Moreover, in contrast to most cities, the cylinders of Tharna seemed excessively solemn, as if overcome by their own weight. They were scarcely distinguishable from one another, an aggregate of grays and browns, so different from the thousand gay colors that gleamed in most cities, where each cylinder in towering splendor lodged its claim to be the bravest and most beautiful of all. Even the horizontal plains about Tharna, marked by their occasional outcroppings of weathered boulders, seemed to be gray, rather cold and gloomy, perhaps sad. Tharna was not a city to lift the heart of a man. Yet I knew that this city was, from my point of view, one of the most enlightened and civilized on Gor. In spite of this conviction, incomprehensibly, I found myself depressed by Tharna, and wondered if it, in its way, were not somehow, subtly, more barbaric, more harsh, less human than its ruder, less noble, more beautiful sisters. I determined that I should try to secure a tarn and proceed as quickly as possible to the Sardar Mountains, to keep my appointment with the Priest-Kings. - (Outlaw of Gor)