The whimpering, unfortunate slave-girl, clad only in animal furs, was thrust to the hard stone floor, grazing her knees. "Please," she whimpered helplessly, "please spare me, O Evil One - I mean you no harm, and must stay at home to protect my helpless old mother and young brother!"

Zargog the Virulent laughed, spitting everywhere. He was a fearsome sight, standing eight feet tall, clad in robes the colour of blood, with fiery red eyes and claws as long as a man's finger protruding from his scaly digits. On his head he wore a crown of pure Azantium, stolen long ago from the Temple of Time in Ealmon, that gave him the power of a thousand men.

"I care not for you or you mother or your young brother!" he guffawed, covering the slave-girl in spit. "I have eaten types such as you for breakfast, and thought nothing of it! Har har har har." He took the head of the slave-girl in one hand and crushed it like an egg, blood and gore and brains leaking everywhere and splatting on the floor. Her lifeless body slumped to Zargog's feet. "Har har har har har har," he laughed angrily, wiping his hand on his long, flowing cloak. "Fillimup!" he spoke.

A small, stooping old goblin came scuttling up to him and knelt before him. "Mighty Zargog," he wheezed, his voice frail and squeaky, "you promised you would give me the slave-girl once you had finished with her!"

"I know," laughed Zargog, and he picked up the bleeding, headless corpse. "Here!" He threw the un-headed cadaver at the whimpering little goblin, knocking him over and covering him in sticky life-fluid. "Enjoy, you fool! Where is my Chariot of Fire?" he demanded.

"I shall fetch it at once, mighty Zargog," vocalised Fillimup, bowing deeply while picking a shard of the slave-girl's skull from his wispy grey hair. He scuttled off hurriedly.

Zargog strode over to a great pool that dominated one end of the fearsome cavern that was his lair, lit by dozens of flickering torches. He waved a hand over the water and it rippled, settling itself into a crystal-clear image of a mighty-looking man striding through the corridors of a castle, grasping a sword stained with blood and bluish lumps of intenstine.

"Asgarth," mumbled Zargog, baring his long, razor-sharp teeth in anger. "So, you have made it to the Castle of Kalliet, and defeated the wily King Machachata. You have far to go, bold adventurer - but you shall not make it past the borders of Gadada once my fearsome minions find you! Har har har har," he laughed, his spit making hundreds of tiny ripples on the pool.

* * * * *

Asgarth had put several days trek between himself and the castle of King Machachata. He remembered none of it. He had passed through the plains of Corilth, and had begun to enter into the magical forest of Zalchamn. It was told that these forest paths had never been ridden by man or beast. Asgarth had never heard the myths. The lowest branches of trees taller than the plain of Corilth was wide brushed Asgarth's face. Small woodland creatures jumped on the branches, skittering away when they heard Asgarth's horse approach. Asgarth eyed the slower of these tiny beasts and thought about his lunch as they disappeared into the canopy of trees. Asgarth remembered back to the Pig and Poke, and the now satisfied serving wench that had pleasured his lust. He remembered fondly her large pendulous breasts, her piercing blue eye and her limp.

His rumbling stomach brought Asgarth back to his senses, "Dinner time" he thought. He leapt from the saddle of his horse and tied the reigns to one of the many trees. Asgarth began to collect a small amount of kindling for his fire. As soon as Asgarth had a small fire going ready for his meal he set off on foot to catch an animal. It didn't take Asgarth long to secure a beast, a kind he had never seen before, a small blue furry rodent type of animal. He had it skewered on a branch and held it over the fire.

As it cooked the aroma reminded Asgarth of fish, again his mind wandered back to the wench at the Pig and Poke. His first bite of the animal tasted of chicken, the second bite was interrupted by a crash behind him. Asgarth dropped the meal and swung round.

Standing in front of Asgarth was a huge eight foot green man-like creature, with a face covered in matted hair and a slavering maw. Asgarth grabbed his sword, he was never far away from it.

"How dare you eat my children!" The beast screamed.

Asgarth didn't realise the creature was talking figuratively and took him to mean that his meal was this creatures spawn.

The creature flexed its mighty pectoral muscles, which reflected the dying rays of the hot sun. Asgarth's mind turned to Strum and her mighty pecs.

"Now foul beast you will answer me, why do you anger me so by devouring my own flesh and blood?"

"Strange beast, know that my honour would prevent me from committing such a sin in normal circumstances, but know also I am Asgarth, the heroic, and I shall not stand to be called foul beast by anything."

Asgarth unsheathed his sword with the giddy expectation of the feast of blood that certainly ensure. A wicked smile erupted on the handsome warrior's face, soon he would plunge his substantial weapon into the soft underbelly of the thing. Again his mind wandered back to Strum. the buxom serving wench. The creature fell down to the floor on its knees, prostrating itself at the feet of the god-like masculinity that was Asgarth.

"Y-y-y-y-y-you are Asgarth the noble."

"I have many names", said Asgarth, mysteriously looking away at nothing in the distance, "and ay that be one of them. Now die!!!"

"Nooo, Please, you misunderstand."

"I never misunderstand you filthy loincloth, although throughout my adventures there may be certain chapters ‘of my life', that may make me look foolish and simple, I can only assure you that this is a visage I promote so people will underestimate me; so that I may thrust at them with my warrior's zeal. Now die!!!!!!"

"Please I am Lachima, it is written on the dancing tree that one day you would come, and that I would help you in your quest. I have been here for many moons waiting for you to come".

Asgarth thought of the erotic clinch of Strum, and smiled. "Dancing tree, Lachima, I've never heard of such nonsense. I'm searching for the Shining Magic Thing, and by the great lava-breathing gender confused Dragon of the warlock region I've never heard such malany."

"Ah, malany."

Asgarth looked up in shock. "You know of malany?"

"Oh yes, I have journeyed in your homeland many times, and picked up some of the language"

"Have you ever seen my family?"

Lachima looked at the ground in stony silence.

"Well?" Asgarth pressed him.

"I have."

"Tell me please, I've had visions, are they poorly?"

Lachima shrugged his shoulders. "Parts of them are, but the other parts are really doing quite well."

"NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" Asgarth screamed. "Come Lachima you shall join me, and together we will avenge my family, and feast on the blood of the dark prince."

"Good, good, but first we must consult the dancing tree, only it's holy branches will guide us."

"Fair enough, oh, and sorry about your child. It is kind of funny though that I've eaten one of your family, and your now going to help me avenge mine."

"Yes it is hilarious"

"Oh Lachima, on this journey we shall find you a sense of humour. Asgarth ejaculated a raucous laugh and slapped his friend on the back. Together the two strode off to search for the dancing tree.

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