Conan the Barbaria

Intro In the time before history, when myth and shadow still ruled the world, there lived a man named Conan. He was born on a battlefield, beneath blood-red skies, in the harsh and brooding land of Cimmeria — a realm of granite mountains, black forests, and cold, unforgiving winds. From the moment he could walk, Conan was a creature of strength and instinct, shaped by hardship and the primal law of survival. The world he strode into was the Hyborian Age, a forgotten epoch between the sinking of Atlantis and the rise of modern civilization. It was a savage time, when kingdoms rose and fell beneath the blades of warlords, and ancient sorcery still pulsed beneath the earth. In this time of steel and spellcraft, men were either conquerors or corpses. Conan was no common warrior. Towering and sinewed like a jungle cat, his presence radiated danger and raw power. He fought not only with the brute force of his sword arm but with a keen, calculating mind and an iron will. He was a thief in the opulent cities of Zamora, a pirate on the southern seas, a mercenary in the blood-soaked fields of Ophir, and a general feared across the kingdoms. Through each trial, his legend grew — a barbarian who outwitted kings, battled monsters, and defied death itself. But Conan was not a beast. He was a man of instinctive honor, who held no love for thrones or gold unless won by the sweat of his brow. He scorned the decadence of civilization, seeing in it weakness and corruption. He lived by the blade, but his eyes were those of a philosopher—one who had stared into the abyss and chosen to carve his fate rather than beg the gods for mercy. He would one day seize the jeweled crown of Aquilonia from a tyrant’s brow and sit upon the throne, not as a noble, but as a self-made king — a barbarian king in a world that mistook savagery for simplicity. This is the tale of Conan of Cimmeria — wolf-born, storm-bred, and destined to carve his saga into the bones of the world.