Uploaded on Aug 29, 2011
The epic tale of child sold into slavery who grows into a man who seeks revenge against the warlord who massacred his tribe. This is the short "Schwarzenegger Only" Version.
To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women.
Snakes! You say snakes? Perhaps on a shield, two snakes coming together, facing each other, but they are one. Yes!
And who says you will? Who are you? So what are you doing here?
What gods do you pray to? To Crom... but I seldom pray to him, he doesn't listen. He is strong! If I die, I have to go before him, and he will ask me, "What is the riddle of steel?" If I don't know it, he will cast me out of Valhalla and laugh at me. That's Crom, strong on his mountain! Crom laughs at your four winds. He laughs from his mountain.
No! Lets waist no time.
Its good. Does it always smells like this? How does the wind ever get in here?
You're all sluts. He is dead already. Can you believe that? Come, let leave this place.
You're not a guard! No.
Can you summon demons, wizard?
Do you care for these places? Do flowers grow around here?
Oil the sword and feed the horse. No. For a girl.
I'm afraid. Could we talk over there, where the others cannot see. I'm afraid and I am shy. Is this your robe, priest robe? Good!
You killed my mother! You killed my father, you killed my people! You took my father's sword. The riddle... of steel.
I remember days like this when my father took me to the forest and we ate wild blueberries. More than 20 years ago. I was just a boy of four or five. The leaves were so dark and green then. The grass smelled sweet with the spring wind. Almost 20 years of pitiless cumber! No rest, no sleep like other men. And yet the spring wind blows, Subotai. Have you ever felt such a wind? It's never too late, Subotai. For us, there is no spring. Just the wind that smells fresh before the storm.
Are they going to help? Well, then tell them to stay out of the way.
Crom, I have never prayed to you before. I have no tongue for it. No one, not even you, will remember if we were good men or bad. Why we fought, or why we died. All that matters is that two stood against many. That's what's important! Valor pleases you, Crom... so grant me one request. Grant me revenge! And if you do not listen, then to HELL with you!