In my county, no starving man is denied food, but you civilised people must have you recompense- if you are like all I have ever met. We have done no harm and are just leaving.From, "The Slithering Shadow"
CONAN the Cimmerian stared out over the aching desolation and involuntarily drew the back of his powerful hand over his blackened lips. He stood like a bronzed image in the sand, apparently impervious to the murderous sun, though his only garment was a silk loin-cloth, girdled by a wide gold-buckled belt from which hung a sabre and a broad bladed poniard. On his clean-cut limbs were evidence of scarcely healed wounds.
-by CROM, I'd like to see a priest try to take a Cimmerian to the alter. There'd be blood spilt, but not as the priest intended.From, "The Slithering Shadow"
She was tall, lithe, shaped like a goddess; clad in a narrow girdle crusted with jewels. A burnished mass of night-black hair set of the whiteness of her ivory body. Her dark eyes, shaded by long dusky lashes, were deep with sensuous mystery.From, "The Slithering Shadow"
A barbarian of barbarians, the vitality and endurance of the wild were his, granting him survival were civilised men would have perished.From, "The Slithering Shadow"
At his feet rested a girl, one white arm clasping his knee, against which her blond head dropped. Her white skin contrasted with his hard bronzed limbs; her short silken tunic, low-necked and sleaveless, girdled at the waist, emphasized rather than concealed her lithe figure.From, "The Slithering Shadow"
As in a nightmare Natala felt her tunic being stripped from her, and the next instant Thalis had jerked up her wrists and bound them barely touching the floor. Twisting her head, Natala saw Thalis unhook a jewel-handed whip from where it hung on the wall, near the ring. The lashes consisted of seven round silk cords, harder yet more pliant than leather thongs.
With a hiss of vindictive gratification, Thalis drew back her arm, and Natala shrieked as the cords curled across her loins. The tortured girl writhed, and tore agonizedly at the thongs which imprisoned her wrists.
...She had never guessed the punishing power of hard-woven silk cords. Their caress was more exquisitely painful than any birch twig or leather thongs.
There are brains and gut and blood to be cleaned off marble tiles, and if their god still lives, he carries more wounds than I.From "The Slithering Shadow"
