Conan the Barbarian

Between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis

and the rise of the sons of Aryas, there was an age undreamed of

when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world.

Then came the dark empire of Acheron,

where cruel Necromancers sought secrets of resurrection.

They crafted a mask from the bones of kings

and awakened its wrath with the pure blood of their daughters.

The mask summoned spirits of unspeakable evil,

giving them power no mortal men should possess.

Acheron enslaved the civilized world.

Only the Barbarian tribes were left to rise up against them.

The mask was shattered and Acheron fell.

Each tribe kept a single shard

so that no man might attempt to join them back together

and drive the world once again into chaos and ruin.

Their pieces were scattered across the land and remained hidden for ages.

But prophecy spoke of a man who would some day try to reassemble the mask

and rule the world.

So came the dawn of Hyborian Age, a time both bleak and brutal.

And so came a child.

Born of battle.

Fialla!

Fialla.

Do not speak, my love. Do not speak.

I must see my child before I die.

Name your son.

His name

is Conan.

Slow down, Conan!

When a Cimmerian feels thirst, it is the thirst for blood.

When he feels cold, it is the cold edge of steel.

But the courage of the Cimmerian is tempered.

He neither fears death nor rushes foolishly to meet it.

But to be a Cimmerian warrior,

you must have both cunning and balance, as well as speed and strength.

Conan.

I gave you chores, boy.

Finished, Father.

First to circle the hills and return the egg unbroken

earns the right to fight with the warriors.

Well, by Crom, boy, what are you waiting for?

We go back.

Conan!

Make way. Make way.

Come. Time to forge a blade.

This sword we make will be yours one day.

But before you wield it, you must understand it.

The sword must bend or it will break.

It must be tempered.

What is most important when forging a blade, fire or ice?

Fire.

Ice?

Are you certain?

Fire and ice together.

This is the mystery of steel.

You're still all fire, boy.

No. Slow down. Find your footing.

Enough!

You're not ready for this sword.

Fire!

Fire!

- Father! - Conan!

Father!

Conan!

Die!

Father!

Barbarian.

There's no shame in kneeling before me.

Each of these brave warriors

has surrendered, left their lands, sworn allegiance to me.

They do so because they know one day I will be a god.

One day...

the other clans of Cimmeria will gather for vengeance, and then god or no god,

you will fall.

You know why I'm here.

One piece is missing from the mask.

You know its power. Give it to me now...

or die and I'll find it for myself.

I prefer death.

Oh, my nose!

No!

This is your son.

I like him.

Come here, my daughter.

Father, I sense the bone shard is close.

Will you find it for me, Marique?

Barbarian, your son has courage.

But my daughter has talents as well.

Find it, Marique.

These Cimmerians, they do not pray.

This is their church.

This is what they worship.

It will be here!

The shard. She found the bone shard.

Your mother would be proud.

- Remo. - Yeah?

Gather the men. Burn everything.

But, Zym!

Not the boy. Not yet.

Not yet. Look what he did to my face!

Now, how do I punish you, huh?

You fear not pain, nor death.

Father! No!

Father!

No!

Worse than death, eh, Cimmerian?

Watching your son die.

Because he loves you.

It is complete.

Marique, we're halfway there.

When we find the pureblood, your mother,

my beloved, will return.

The mask is complete!

Conan, you cannot save me.

Let go of the chain, boy.

- I'm not afraid to die! - Nor I.

I love you, Son.

No! No!

Conan left Cimmeria and wandered the edges of the world,

slaying, thieving, surviving,

storming the high walls of Venarium and prowling the dark seas among pirates.

But the nameless man who slaughtered his village and killed his father

remained in shadow.

These are common slavers, Conan. Not the man you seek. Why attack?

No man should live in chains.

Fight!

Stay and fight, you pink-bellied motherless goat-lovers!

Go. You're free.

Go. Your masters are dead. You are no longer slaves.

But you've taken all our food, all our weapons.

Where would you have us go?

Come on.

We sail to Messantia.

Come on.

Call it.

Come on, old man.

I win!

I still win.

When I first met him, he was no bigger than you.

Just a scrawny little rat picking pockets in Zamora.

Even SO,

it was he who stole the Elephant's Heart

and slew the sorcerer Yara.

Come.

Hey, mama. Need more mead.

Who's next?

Guards! There. And check there.

Hey. Why are they looking for you?

No. No, no, no. No, wait. You don't understand.

They'll be happy to take us both to prison if you don't let go!

Maybe I wanna go to prison.

You take the one in the middle?

Me?

- You. - I'll take him.

I am your prisoner.

You're calm for somebody who's about to die.

Move!

Where's the captain?

The hill ape can speak. The captain is currently occupied.

Don't worry. Everyone can get their chance.

Hey!

Stop him!

Come here!

Where is the captain of the guard?

His door's sealed from within. He can only open it for me.

Guards! The door!

All right.

What?

Guards! Guards!

You remember me?

Who are you?

I'm the one who made you pretty.

You can't do this! Do you know who I am?

Where is the man who killed my father?

You seek Khalar Zym?

Zym. No.

My people were slain by a common bandit, not a king.

He was a bandit then. He's a legend now. A Shadow Lord.

A Shadow Lord, huh?

Speak. I will not kill you.

You know the Forbidden Forest?

Nothing there but dead bodies and the animals who feed on them.

Even as we speak, Khalar leads his legions through the mist.

More.

Not good enough.

Wait! The forest is large, I know.

But as he returns to his stronghold at Khor Kalba,

he returns by way of the ravine at Shaipur.

That's a perfect place for an ambush.

What does Khalar want there?

He's with his witch daughter. They're searching for a young girl.

A pureblood.

Are you leading me into a trap?

No. I wouldn't lie to you.

He's mad.

He's obsessed with Acheronian sorcery. I hold no loyalty to him.

Well, Northerner, I've upheld my part of the deal.

No!

Yes.

By Mitra, what are you doing?