CONAN (The Barachan),
He spat in CONAN's face and snatched at his own sword.
The Barachan's movement was too quick for the eye to follow. His sledge-like fist crunched with a terrible impact against his tormentors jaw, and the Zingaran catapulted through the air and fell in a crumpled heap by the rail.
CONAN turned towards the others. But for a glitter in his eyes, his bearing was unchanged. But the baiting was over as suddenly as it began. The seamen lifted their companion; his broken jaw hung slack, his head lolled unnaturally.
From "The Pool of the Black One."
Page 166. The Complete Chronicles of CONAN.
The moral of the story...
DO NOT SPIT AT CONAN!
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