By Jeff Mariotte
Within the realm of Aquilonia, within the time while Conan was once King, a tender barbarian fights to revive the dignity of his tribe—and to say his revenge… within the bustling urban of Tarantia, the younger Pictish warrior Kral has been imprisoned after slaughtering a cadre of urban Rangers and Aquilonian infantrymen, whereas his neighbors Alanya and Doniel fight to discover security within the labyrinthian urban streets.
But Kral’s look for teeth of the Ice Bear—and his attacks on those that stole it—have stuck the eye of King Conan himself. There are rumors he's sending a powerful strength to Kral’s fatherland to weigh down the presumed Pictish uprising, whilst the Picts themselves are at the verge of launching a crusade that would drench the land in blood.
Now, Kral and his partners needs to stick with the path of enamel in the course of the again alley shadows of Tarantia, to the halls of King Conan, and around the seas the place their maximum problem awaits them…
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Extra info for Age of Conan: Winds of the Wild Sea: Winds of the Wild Sea
I was much alone during the long leisurely voyage, but I enjoyed the nineteen days at sea. As we worked south, all the seasons of the year swept over us. We passed from the dim brief days, long nights, and the harsh chill of winter to the full glare of a high sun and the heat of the tropics. Dressed in flannels and white, we sailed over blue, bright seas and saw the sun's course grow oblique in the north. At moments I felt the year whirl around me and only by a mental effort could recall that the calendar read December still.
She described to me the part of Islandia where he lived, saying that the home of her cousin, Some XII, the Lord of Loria, was on the road thither, and that her own home was about fifteen miles away in remote, hilly forests. "But," she added, "we live almost as much at my cou- house and he at ours. It is newer and has only been in the family one hundred and sixty years. Ours goes back nearly four hundred. You will go to visit your friend Dora, and on your way you must stay at my cousin's house. If you are not hurrying you might go to my home in the hills.
Here the Karain lived, the enemies of Islandia, who organized the blacks of the interior and once in almost every lifetime set out to conquer, pillage, and enslave. The next day we continued along the coast and Wednesday, January 2nd, found us approaching Mobono, the largest city of the continent and newly under an English protectorate. On deck I found Philip Wills with M. Perier, the French consul in Islandia, a small man with a narrow beard and thick, curling hair of a dusty brown, and with limpid, intelligent eyes.