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The king and his allies moved westward at the head of fifty thousand men, knights in shining armor with their pennons streaming above their helmets, pikemen in steel caps and brigandines, crossbowmen in leather jerkins. They crossed the border, took a frontier...
In the great square of the inner city, a sorcerer was being tortured, while a great mob looked on and jeered. Conan, attacked at his house by the monster, wounded it mortally and pursued it into the square, when it rushed to its master, the Kordafan, and fell dead...
Conan stared aghast; the image of a man, naked, and green in color; but the head was one of nightmare and madness. Too large for the human body, it had no attributes of humanity. Conan stared at the wide floating ears, the curling proboscis, on either side...
A call to arms! An abomination is terrorizing villages throughout the kingdom, leaving behind a path of death and destruction. The king has summoned all able-bodied adventurers to return to the capital and organize a plan to rid the kingdom of this menace...