In the darkness, we hear the solitary sound of a HEARTBEAT,
resounding like a drum.
In between the years when the
oceans drank Atlantis and the rise
of the Sons of Aryas, there was an
age undreamed of, when shining
kingdoms lay spread across the
world like blue mantles under the
stars. Hither came Conan, the
Cimmerian: a thief, a slayer, a
king born of battle.
Muffled sounds, as if underwater, echo: CLANGING swords, the
guttural CRIES of combat.
Eyes closed, floating at peace within red glow of the womb.
Suddenly, a flash of steel, as a sword pierces the womb, its
tip not an inch from the baby's head.
As the sword is ripped out, light streams in from outside, we
travel with it, into the DIN of BATTLE.
EXT. CIMMERIA - MUDDY FIELD - DAY
A blonde-haired, armored AESIR RAIDER withdraws the bloody
sword from the stomach of ISLENE, a wild-maned Cimmerian
beauty, many months pregnant, now clutching her bloody
Across a muddy battlefield, the air a maelstrom of falling
snowflakes and embers from trees aflame, the powerfully built
CORIN rallies his fellow CIMMERIANS, until he spots Islene.
Wielding a broadsword, runes etched into its surface, Corin
cuts a bloody path through his enemies, his eyes never
The Aesir standing over Islene LAUGHS as she claws at the
earth behind her, trying to pull herself away.
Now, now little whore. Did I get
you or your little one?
Islene's hand reaches back once again -- and it finds a
fallen warrior's SWORD. In one fluid motion she swings the
sword around her body and drives it into the gap in the
Aesir's armor -- at his groin.
I'd ask you the same.
The Aesir HOWLS in agony, raising his sword to deliver the
killing blow -- when another sword pierces his chest. The
Aesir falls, revealing Corin standing behind him.
Corin throws aside his horned helmet, and falls to his knees
beside Islene, checking her wound. When he pulls his hands
back they are coated in blood.
Their eyes meet. Torment. Loss. They both know. She pulls a
knife from the folds of her pelts, puts it in his hand.
Take your child.
Islene looks to her naked belly. The baby inside presses
against its womb, a visible impression on her flesh.
There is no time, husband. I would
see my child's face.
Islene's eyes flutter as she struggles. Corin lowers the
knife. Islene's eyes lock with Corin's as he puts the knife
to use. Never once does she scream.
A moment later, Corin lifts the crying, blood-covered BOY up
through the falling snowflakes to Islene's lap.
A boy. He will be strong. A warrior
with no equal.
Do not speak, love.
You have never been able to still
my tongue, and you will not this
day. He will be wild, Corin. You
must temper him.
She shares one kiss with her child, its first taste not of
mother's milk, but of her blood.
The boy's eyes are as deep and blue as the Eastern Sea.
TITLE CARD: CONAN
EXT. CIMMERIAN VILLAGE - DAY
A small Cimmerian village lies in a heavily forested valley,
a redoubt from the icy mountains surrounding it.
Round wooden huts surround a stone-lined pit, where young
CIMMERIAN BOYS, ages 12-15 stand. Pollen drifts through the
air, giving it an ethereal haze.
At the center of the pit URAN, an elder Cimmerian warrior
A Cimmerian warrior is like any
other man. A Cimmerian warrior
feels hunger. He feels cold. Like
other men he may lie and cheat.
(stares the boys down)
But when a Cimmerian warrior
hungers, he hungers only for the
blood of his enemy. When he feels
cold, it is the cold steel of his
sword. When he lies, he lies in
wait for his enemy. And when he
cheats, he cheats death itself!
Uran stops at the end of the line, where a boy stands a good
two heads smaller than the rest. He is no more than eight,
but his face is as stoic, driven.
Conan! You are too young to be
CONAN, determined, doesn't move an inch. The LARGEST TEEN
menacingly steps up to the smaller boy.
He said leave, motherless whelp.
The hulking teen goes to shove Conan, but Conan pulls his arm
towards him, lashing out with his other hand, punching the
teen in the throat.
The large boy goes down hard, hands and knees, gasping for
A smattering of LAUGHS erupt from the boys, quickly silenced
by Uran's stare. Uran hands out RIVER STONES to each boy,
ending with Conan. The boys know what to do: they put the
large stones in their mouths.
In the black crag in the high pass
stands a wooden training sword. The
one who claims it, with stone still
in his mouth, will have earned the
right to train with the warriors.
The boys look at each other, sizing up the competition.
Well? What are you waiting for?!
And off they run. They knock each other down, punching the
other's stomachs, each trying to force the other to expel
their stones. One or two succeed.
Most of the remaining boys run for the trail that winds high
into the mountains. But a few head right for the sheer cliff
Conan follows the ones headed to the cliff.
And when the Cimmerian boys climb, it is a sight to behold.
They find cracks we can barely see and scale the smooth rock
face as though it were a ladder.
The hulking teen reaches for the same handhold as Conan,
trying to knock him off. Conan swings with one hand and finds
another path. In moments he is ahead.
EXT. FOREST - DAY
Conan is in the lead as he crests the cliff top, the bigger
boys right behind him.
They race through the forest, heading uphill --
When Conan spots movement ahead. He pauses --
And the largest teen elbows past Conan, into the lead. The
boy runs two paces more and suddenly flies off his feet, an
AXE lodged squarely in his forehead.
All the boys stop. Out of the dense forest come
FOUR PICTISH SAVAGES
Covered with fearsome war paint and armed with dual hand
axes, the rotting heads of their enemies are slung at their
The boys spit out the rocks in their mouths and YELL. They
turn and run in the opposite direction.
Only Conan doesn't move, even as another boy pulls at him.
But Conan simply pulls the axe from his large boy's skull. He
turns to face the Picts, his eyes burning.
The Picts LAUGH and CHARGE CONAN.
Corin arrives with Uran and other armed CIMMERIAN WARRIORS.
They get a brief glimpse of a single PICT, escaping in the
other direction. One of the Cimmerians takes off in pursuit.
Corin desperately searches for his son.
Conan steps forward from out of a thicket, his body covered
in Pict blood. Three PICTS lie massacred, the bodies hacked
What have you done, boy?
Conan walks past the other stunned Cimmerians, up to his
father. Conan SPITS OUT the bloody stone from his mouth.
They killed one. I killed three. I
am a warrior now.
Uran and the other Cimmerian men exchange worried glances.
Looking at the carved up bodies of the Picts, they are
aghast. Conan looks confused. Why aren't they happy?
A warrior? What you have done a
jackal would do. Never a warrior.
They would have done the same --
As I said, jackals.
He is not ready. I will forge him
Conan is tested under Corin's watchful eye:
- Forced to sleep in the snow, while his father keeps warm
- A heavy boulder on his shoulder blades while he balances on
wet river rocks.
- Climbing a cliff face, his bare hands leaving blood behind
on the jagged rocks.
INT. CIMMERIAN FORGE - DAY
Flames reflect in the blue eyes of Conan as he works the
bellows of the forge. Sparks buzz like angry fireflies as he
stokes the blaze.
Corin sharpens a sword, perfecting it. Conan cannot take his
eyes off it, stepping away from the bellows.
Stoke your fire, boy.
Conan slams the bellows closed, anger rising.
"Stoke your fire, chop your wood."
I have slept where wolves dare not.
I have balanced a thousand river
stones. When will you teach me the
Corin stares his son in the eyes. Judging.
Think you're ready? Then tell me:
what is a sword's purpose?
To slay ones enemies.
No. That is what it does. Its
purpose is why you use it.
He tosses Conan two lumps of ore.
Tell me, which makes the best
Conan takes the two lumps, testing them. He hands his father
The stronger ore, eh? Then we shall
make a sword of it, and tomorrow
you will show me what brute
EXT. FIELD - DUSK
With a setting sun silhouetting the two, Conan attacks Corin.
Conan attacks with fury. Corin defends with grace. Until the
boy overextends and Corin slashes down a counterattack that
SHATTERS CONAN'S SWORD.
Corin simply turns and walks away, leaving Conan to puzzle
Corin lowers his sword and walks away, leaving Conan to
puzzle what happened.
INT. CORIN'S FORGE - NIGHT
Conan works the bellows, putting his back into it. Corin
places both ores in the furnace where they begin to melt.
Why did it break?
Because it had no life.
Sparks fly as Corin pounds on the glowing edge of the sword
with hammer. Corin nods at Conan, who sprinkles the glowing
blade with ash.
CORIN (O.S.) (CONT'D)
The strongest blade isn't made of
the hardest steel, boy. The hardest
ore is what a man will die for. It
is strong and unyielding. It
neither cowers nor concedes. But
without the softer ore, it can be
shattered like glass.
Steam rises as Corin lowers the blade into a freezing slack
tub, only to place it right back into the flames.
The softer ore is what a man lives
for. It is flexible and lasting. It
survives, even against the greatest
of foes. But too much of the soft
ore, the blade will not cut deep
enough when it must.
Corin fashions the blade's hilt, engraving the guard and
pommel. It is a work of art.
A sword must be tempered, the two
ores united through fire and ice.
Through its suffering the sword
comes to hold both life and death.
Corin hands Conan the sword.
Now tell me, what is this sword's
Conan furrows his brow, trying to puzzle the answer. He
can't. Corin's disappointment shows. He takes the sword from
This one is not ready yet.
Blood rushes to Conan's face but he says nothing. He rushes
EXT. MOUNTAIN LAKE - DAY
Frustrated, Conan slashes through a field of reeds, cutting
everything within reach of him, expending his rage.
Behind him something moves in the forest. We catch just a
glimpse of the PICT, the same one that escaped Conan in the
Conan's instincts cause him to spin around -- but then
there's nothing there.
INT. CIMMERIAN SCOUT POST - DAY
Built into the side of a huge tree, fifty feet up, this
wooden structure houses two CIMMERIAN SENTRIES. A BIRD CRIES
in the woods, causing one of the sentries to investigate.
THWICK! He suddenly stands up straight, unmoving. The one
still sitting in the structure notices.
The standing sentry falls backwards, revealing an ARROW
piercing his right eye. Shocked, the remaining sentry reaches
for the WARNING HORN mounted on the wall.
But as he reaches for it, his shadow becomes three
dimensional, MORPHING into
A SHADOW SCOUT
A thin, feral humanoid, bodies covered in tattoos, from the
deepest jungles of Zingara. The scout lashes out with his
black sword and cuts straight across the sentry's throat.
This Shadow Scout's name is REMO.
EXT. SCOUT POST - DAY
Remo exits and stares down at CHEREN, a BLIND ARCHER clad in
lamellar armor and a conical sedge hat. Cheren has an arrow
notched and ready, but somehow he knows not to fire.
Cheren lowers his bow and lets out a BIRD WHISTLE --
And the forest comes alive. The forces are an odd
combination; massive KUSHITE TRIBESMEN, dark-skinned savages
from the savannahs of Kush, and a LEGION OF AQUILONIAN
MERCENARIES, heavily armored knights drawn from the cities of
Their leaders, respectively, are the six foot-five Kushite
chief UKAFA, gold-toothed, his body painted for battle, and
the handsome, silver-armored Aquilonian LUCIUS.
That's the last of their guard
All this sneaking around for a
lowly tribe of barbarians.
KHALAR SINGH (O.S.)
This lowly tribe of barbarians have
buried every warrior ever to set
foot on this land, Lucius.
KHALAR SINGH, a warlord atop a black horse, rides through the
He bears a nomadic visage, with tanned skin and almond-shaped
eyes. While his voice is calm, his eyes burn with malice.
That is only because they have
never faced my legion.
Khalar regards Lucius with amusement.
Then show us. But should you fail,
remember the plan.
Lucius scowls as he delivers a bow to Khalar Singh.
EXT. CIMMERIAN VILLAGE - DAY
Corin walks out of the forge, looking around for Conan.
Various other Cimmerians go about the daily routine, but
Conan is nowhere to be seen.
Corin looks to the ridge above the village, noticing a thick
fog creeping in. The fog curls and eddies, something is out
Suddenly, Lucius and his legion of silver-armored warriors
burst out of the fog, attacking with speed and strength.
But the Cimmerians are hardly caught flat footed. In seconds
they are armed, and they counter the charge with a furious
charge of their own.
SLAM! Sword and bone collide as the two enemy fronts smash
into each other. And the battle devolves into one-on-ones --
Where the barbarians have the upper hand. Uran and Corin lead
the main push of battle-frenzied barbarians as they swing
their huge broadswords, extending their reach advantage over
the Aquilonian's shorter weapons.
And quickly, the Aquilonian's numbers are cut in half. Corin
squares off against Lucius himself. Lucius is sweating.
Worried. It wasn't supposed to be this hard.
As a unit, the Aquilonians race back into the woods. In
seconds, the Cimmerians give chase in wild pursuit.
Wait! Hold your ground!
But it's too late, nearly half the Cimmerian warriors are
gone on the chase.
EXT. CLIFF FACE - DAY
Lucius and the Aquilonians race up to a sheer cliff face.
Nowhere left to run. They turn to see the Cimmerians
gathering in front of them.
Death is in the air, invaders. Can
you taste it?
Indeed. I savor it.
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