The feet of the Cimmerian youth left deep impressions in the thick snow that enshrouded much of the eternally wintry land of Vanaheim as he trudged determinably eastward, his muscular body wrapped in a bearskin cloak. His name was Conan, of the tribe of the Snowhawk, and he had only hours ago fled slavery in a Vanir fishing village by the coast of the Western Sea, after a grisly night of supernatural evil. A demon of the ocean depths had come ashore in the form of a drowned fisherman, and proceeded to murder several villagers before being slain by Conan, recently captured by the Vanir. He had watched the demon melt into a pile of slimy weed-stuff in the light of dawn, and then hastened quickly away before anyone could see him.

A number of strange encounters had come his way recently; following his first real taste of battle at Venarium, where he and an army of his Cimmerian kinsmen had levelled the outpost of the Aquilonian empire, the mightiest of the nations of Hyboria, he had seen winged demons summoned from out of an eldritch crystal by a shaman; a race of talking man-apes that dwelt in a subterranean citadel and kept humans as slaves. There were others. Striding through the bleak wilderness towards the neighbouring land of Aesgaard, Conan briefly wondered what other weird beings might await him. Since leaving the village, all he had encountered was a lone cutthroat from whom he had taken his cloak and sword, after smashing the red-haired dog's head against a stone.

A few moments earlier, the black-maned Cimmerian had thought his ears had detected an odd sound from close by, a noise like a roaring and groaning which had swiftly ended. Now from just around the corner of a rocky cliff, he distinctly heard voices. Keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword, anticipating possible danger, Conan rounded the bend.

Straight ahead on a short rise stood a man and a young woman. The man carried what appeared to be a walking stick in one hand, wrapped in some kind of fabric, with its brightly coloured handle showing. His short coat was of a material he couldn't quite identify, and underneath he wore a woolen vest covered in strange symbols. From under his wide-rimmed hat, dark hair protruded.

The girl beside him was pretty, in a mild way; her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore black boots, leggings, and a jacket adorned with colourful signs and brooches. But it wasn't just them that drew Conan's attention; it was the large blue object standing immobile a few feet from them, a four-sided structure like nothing the Cimmerian had seen before.

The strangers had been gazing into the distance when the girl suddenly noticed him standing there. "Professor," she said urgently, prompting her companion to turn and look at him.

Even from a few feet away, Conan could feel the deep, penetrating intensity of the man's eyes. "Easy now," he said to them carefully. "I mean you no harm. I'm just a wanderer on my way to the lands of the Aesir."

The two people stood scrutinizing him a few seconds longer, and then the man grinned cheerfully and said, "Of course. Totally understandable, we're wanderers of a sort ourselves, aren't we, Ace?" He moved his head in the girl's direction shortly.

"And where might you two be headed?" Conan asked, moving closer to them but still keeping a respectful distance.

"Oh, nowhere in particular," the man replied.

"Just sightseeing, really," chimed in the girl. "Oh, yeah, my name's Ace, and my friend is called the Doctor," she added. The man lifted his hat to Conan in what seemed a cordial gesture.

"Have you no weapons?" grunted Conan. "These are dangerous lands, full of wild beasts and brigands." He indicated his sword. "I would protect you, if you wish it."

"Thank you, but I don't think we need protecting," the man called the Doctor said. "Besides, we ought to be on our way now. Pleased to have met you. Come on, Ace."

"Bye," the woman called Ace said as she moved after the Doctor in the direction of the blue object. As Conan watched mystified, the Doctor produced some kind of key from his pocket and used it to open a door in the structure through which he and Ace entered, shutting it behind them. Then the hairs on the back of Conan's neck started to rise as he again heard that roaring, groaning noise, issuing from the structure itself. A small light flashed from its top, and then it faded into nothingness and was gone, like a mirage.

"Crom and Ymir!" Conan gasped. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind now that the two people he had seen were either wizards, gods, demons, or ghosts to have totally vanished in such a way. But whatever they were, they were gone now, and all that was left to Conan was to resume his journey east, and hope that nothing else uncanny happened.

But knowing his luck, that wouldn't be long.