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Conan the Cimmerian Quotes
Quotes & Multimedia » The Hour of the Dragon
Results 1 - 13 of 13
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A wilder and more barbaric figure never trod the bridge of a ship, and in this ferocious corsair few of the courtiers of Aquilonia would have recognized their king.
REH-The Hour of the Dragon
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“Bring me Tarascus’s head and I’ll make you a baron!” In the stress of his anguish Conan’s veneer of civilization had fallen from him. His eyes flamed, he ground his teeth in fury and blood-lust, as barbaric as any tribesmen in the...
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Conan did not at once reply; wild and passionate and untamed he was, yet any but the most brutish of men must be touched with a certain awe or wonder at the baring of a woman’s naked soul.
REH-The Hour of the Dragon
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Conan glared at him unspeaking, feeling a chill along his spine. Wizards and sorcerers abounded in his barbaric mythology, and any fool could tell that this was no common man.
REH-The Hour of the Dragon
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Conan lay still, enduring the weight of his chains and the despair of his position with the stoicism of the wilds that had bred him. He did not move, because the jangle of his chains, when he shifted his body, sounded startlingly loud in the...
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Servius was again aware, as in the past, and now more strongly than ever, of something alien about the king. That great frame under the mail mesh was too hard and supple for a civilized man; the elemental fire of the primitive burned in those...
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His eyes flamed, he ground his teeth in fury and blood-lust, as barbaric as any tribesmen in the Cimmerian hills.
REH-The Hour of the Dragon
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“I have no royal blood,” ground Conan. “I am a barbarian and the son of a blacksmith.”
REH-The Hour of the Dragon
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It was only a stride from the king of Aquilonia to the skin-clad slayer of the Cimmerian hills.
REH-The Hour of the Dragon
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Its people are a hardy, war-like race, toughened by continual wars with the Picts, Zingarans and Cimmerians.
REH-The Hour of the Dragon
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That great frame under the mail mesh was too hard and supple for a civilized man; the elemental fire of the primitive burned in those smoldering eyes. Now the barbaric suggestion about the king was more pronounced, as if in his extremity the outward...
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“That man is no Hyborian!” exclaimed Xaltotun. “No; he is a Cimmerian, one of those wild tribesmen who dwell in the gray hills of the north.” “I fought his ancestors of old,” muttered Xaltotun. “Not even the kings of Acheron could...
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“You mutinous swine!” he bellowed, taking a threatening step forward, while his hand closed on the knife at his belt. “Get for’ard before I have you flogged! You’ll keep a civil tongue in your jaws, or by Mitra, I’ll have you chained...
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