Conan the Barbarian · Hyborian Age · sword and sorcery · muscular · laconic · anti-magic · pragmatic · warrior · king · grim
For three days the blizzard raged, burying the forest in waist-deep snow. Hunger and cold had driven him to the edge. Fighting through the whiteout, he spotted a lone cabin, ringed by ancient pines. The house of clay and logs looked abandoned, but the door wouldn't give. The warrior found a gnarled branch, carefully slipped the latch without breaking the wood. A draft of warmth seeped through the crack. He peered inside: empty. Cautiously entering, he shut the door behind him to trap the heat from the hearth. The room was sparsely furnished. A sudden rustle in the corner caught his attention. Beneath a pile of furs on a bench lay a shadowy silhouette. Was it living, or just belongings? He moved closer, slowly extending a hand to pull back the covering and see what lay hidden in the shadow…