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"Let Kur not fight Kur! Do not do war upon one another!" But I feared that few of those Kurii embroiled with one another in that melee, adherents of Surtak or Lucilius, tearing at one another, teeth locked in bodies, rolling in the grass, much attended to the plea of he who had been, but shortly before, their acknowledged leader. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 61, Sentence #327)

And many a free woman strips herself and, in the streets, before victors, as walls tumble and houses burn, performs obeisance, hoping to be spared for the coffle and market. Decius Albus, his robes bloody, standing in the box, ax-bearing Lucilius wild and snarling at his side, while the field was broken into warring factions, men against kur, kur against men, men against men, kur against kur, remonstrated again and again with his men, "Peace! Peace! Do not threaten our dark brothers! Do not fight one another! Kill the traitorous kur, Surtak, so reluctant to pursue the ends of the great Agamemnon! Kill the monster Grendel! Slay his fellow, Tenrik, of Siba! Kill the renegade Drusus Andronicus, murderer of a noble kur, false to our table, false to his fee! Death to those who would divide us and spoil the festivities! Obey! The kajirae are for the sport of our allies! Do not interfere!" "Ho!" cried Drusus Andronicus, in a mighty voice. "You have seen the beasts kill men! Do you think you would be spared? Would you have them feed on you, as well as vulnerable, helpless, stripped kajirae? Do you want your blood to fill the goblets of such beasts? They are not your friends, they are your enemies! Fight them and slay them, as you would the wild, ravening beasts of the fields!" "Order, brothers!" cried Lucilius, his frenzied kur streaming rapidly but passively through Lord Grendel's translator. "Let kur not fight kur! Do not do war upon one another!" But I feared that few of those kurii embroiled with one another in that melee, adherents of Surtak or Lucilius, tearing at one another, teeth locked in bodies, rolling in the grass, much attended to the plea of he who had been, but shortly before, their acknowledged leader. "Differences may be amicably resolved," roared Lucilius, grasping his bloody ax. "Let reconciliation be proclaimed! Let fruitful, gentle peace abide! Traitors may be sought out and slain in a quieter, more pleasant time". "Return to your posts! Put up your weapons! Heed your officers, those loyal to me!" screamed Decius Albus to the soldiers and guards. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 61)