Asgarth the Invincible: Chapter XIV

At the royal city of Sargoth, truly the gem of cities, rising above the coast like a great gathering of buildings, Asgarth paused to take rest. But he did not tarry there long, because he received much mockery for fleeing from Count Deglan, and Jarl Bulba even called him a frightened chicken. Thus, his heroic heart convulsing with shame, Asgarth left once more.

“I shall never yield to the rampant vagaries of fate,” he uttered defiantly. No doubt the fair Lady Kaeteli would admire his resolutedness! He galloped far to the west once again, to the Swadian village of Gisim which he had looted and pillaged in the recent past.

The surviving villagers were trying to rebuild their shattered lives, having finally buried their departed loved ones. The pens were filling once again with cattle, the roofs of their humble peasant dwellings bedecked in fresh thatch. Asgarth felt a tear stir his manly eyes as he gazed upon their simple, honest fortitudiness.


But he quickly wiped the tear away. Little did it befit a true warrior to weep for his foe. “Forward, my valiant companions!” he screamed to what was left of his warband. “Leave no survivors!” Then he added quickly, “Except the ones you take prisoner, which is as many as possible!”

Shortly afterwards, as Asgarth stood amidst the burning wreckage and corpses of what was once Gisim, a messenger rode unto him. “What is it?” snarled Asgarth as the messenger approached. “For we are about the business of war!”


“Our great King Ragnar has made peace with the Swadians!” the messenger announced. “The war is over!”

“This is bullshit,” implicated Asgarth. What a stupid waste of time.

Old man

Old art

This is a sketch from about 10 years ago. It didn't turn out quite how I wanted. (It was meant to be a tree.)


I then realised I couldn't really draw anything except faces, so I stopped trying. This one is from 2005. It's a girl from Roman Britain wearing actual proper Romano-British jewelery, looking across at some Roman stuff going on nearby.

Asgarth the Invincible: Chapter XIII

Agarth led his warband and his train of Swadian slaves deep into the lands of the Nords, high up a steep pass at the head of which, like a crown of stone upon a mountainous head of rock, towered Castle Hrus, stronghold of Jarl Harald and home to his beloved Lady Kaeteli.

“She isn’t interested,” shouted the guard when they arrived. “Clear off.”


“This is bullshit,” yelled Asgarth in return, and decided to retain his dignity and ride away. Yet the great warrior was not downcast in his heart. Perhaps a dozen Swadian slaves were not enough to impress so refined a lady, he mused. Therefore I shall bring her two dozen.

He rode to the east for many days until he came upon a different stretch of the Swadian borderlands overlooking the village of Ryibelet. “Behold!” he breathed to his men. “Let us ride forth upon the Swadian foe, and slaughter him, and hear the lamentation of his women, which is surely the finest of musical forms which can please the ears of the valiant!”

Thus they charged and pillaged the village, and were doing quite well when one of Asgarth’s men announced, “Alas, I see Count Deglan of Swadia beriding unto us, with approximately 115 men-at-arms!”

“Bollocks,” cursed Asgarth, whose warband at this point still numbered a mere twenty or so. “You there,” he ordered, pointing at ten of his men, “you stay and hold them off. The rest follow me!”


As half his warband prepared to surrender their lives in a valiant attempt to save their lord, Asgarth led a no less valiant retreat from the village. “This is bullshit,” he complained as he galloped over the hills with the remainder of his warband, his mind burning with the icy sensation of shame. Now he had no prisoners at all. He would never win his fair maiden at this rate.

Asgarth the Invincible: Chapter XII

For many days Asgarth and his retinue galloped to the west, following the rocky coastline of the Nordic lands, the crashing grey-blue of the Endless Ocean colliding with the solid mass of the mainland, sea foam roaring heavenwards like fountains of water from the mouth of a terrible beast of legend.

Eventually they came upon the Swadian borderlands. Far off in the distance Asgarth did witness a village by the name of Gisim, a peaceful hamlet of farmers and milkmaids. “Behold, my bold warriors,” enunciated the great hero. “Our first moment of glory awaits!”


As one the heroic band galloped upon the unsuspecting villagers, slaying them left, right and centre, throwing burning brands onto the thatch roofs of their miserable hovels, driving the cattle from their pens, until the earth was awash with the crimson life-fluid of the peasants and the air black with the ash of their burning homes.

Truly a great victory, thought Asgarth after two days of pillage and death. He rallied his men, gathered their booty and set in hot pursuit of those few peasants who had escaped the slaughter and were heading to the mountains.

After some miles he rode them down and a brief battle ensued. At the end of it his men stood cheering and triumphalising over the prostrate forms of their victims, most of them still alive. “Bind those Swadian curs,” snarled Asgarth at his men. “We shall ride in glory to Castle Hrus, where I shall offer our captive slaves to Lady Kaeteli as a token of my deep and sincere affection. If this doesn’t impress her, I don’t know what will.”

Asgarth the Invincible: Chapter XI

Once the forces of the Nords were once again victorious and Jarl Harald had once again ignored Asgarth, which was bullshit considering that Asgarth had just been knocked unconscious three times while trying to help him win a battle, Asgarth returned to the royal city of Sargoth to recover from his wounds. While there he was engaged in conversation by a drunk.

“You are Asgarth the Invincible, are you not?” verbalised the drunk.


“Aye aye, I am he,” confirmed Asgarth, looking him in the eye.

“I thought so!” recommenced the drunk. “It is much spoken of abroad how you aspire to the heart of the Lady Kaeteli. The best way to impress ladies, you know, is to give them presents.”

“Keep her blessed name from thy peasant lips!” stated Asgarth, drawing his sword and cleaving the drunk’s skull in twain.


“He may have a point,” he ruminated as the deceased’s dead body crumpled to the floor, lifeless. “I shall shower my love with the most precious commodity money can buy - people!”

Rousing his men, he strode forthwith from the crimson-stained floor of that den of iniquitousness. “Sire, whither do we ride?” enquired one of their number.

“We ride to the west!” trumpeted Asgarth.

Asgarth the Invincible: Chapter X

Asgarth regained conciousness and found himself being dragged from the blood-saturated battleground by his warband. “Let me go!” he bemoaned.

“You are injured, sire, and thy noble steed is slain!” they expiated.

“You can shove my steed up thy arse!” expressed Asgarth, writhing free from their vice-like clutches. He rose and charged back into the fray on foot, waving his sword valiantly as he uttered blood-churning death-cries.

Soon he awoke once more to find himself being dragged from the battleground by his warband. “What happened?” he queried angrily.

“Ye were knocked out once more, my liege,” mouthed one of their number. “Thy health is very low.”

“Let me go, thou scurrilous sewer rat whore of a bitch!” growled Asgarth, escaping their hands and charging afresh into the battle.

Not long afterwards he awoke to find himself being dragged from the battleground. “Was I knocked out again?” he expressed. “By the gods of the Jurellian Temple, it is fortunate that heroes such as I apparently cannot be slain, only knocked out.”

“By my troth, sire, thou art greatly blessed in this way,” guffawed one of his men-at-arms a moment before an enemy arrow came from nowhere and plunged into his open mouth, killing him.

Asgarth the Invincible: Chapter IX

It was a bitter moon that glowered upon Asgarth as he rode astride his valiant mount through the yawning gates of Sargoth, his band of loyal adventurers close behind. Many days had they spent in pursuit of the ignoble sea raiders, but to no avail. If he was to win the voluminous heart of Lady Kaeteli, he would have to explore fresh fields of glory.

As Asgarth left the city he saw another mighty fracas underway in the plain below, an invading force of Swadians in pitched battle against the nobles of the Nords - including none other than Jarl Harald, father of Asgarth’s beloved. “Now I may prove my love for his pulchritudinous offspring!” exhaled Asgarth vigourously. Spurring his steed forth, he betrod the shadow of doom once again, plunging into hell-fury like a demon unleashed by the death-dealing forces of Hades.

As he charged his mount into the depths of the Swadian lines, Asgarth realised he had left his men behind and was now surrounded by dozens of enemies, thirsting for his beating life-blood. “By the peaks of Gahalala,” he gasped as his mount was pierced by a ten-foot-long pike and crashed whinnying to the ground, writhing in the throes of equine mortality.

No sooner was his horse dispatched than the Swadian foe turned their attention to its rider, and launched upon Asgarth’s fallen form like a pack of ravenous blood-wolves from the misty Mountains of K’Shah’a, where the sun rises but once a year, and the valleys are steeped in a total blackness of the sort which now came over Asgarth’s awareness, though not before he uttered a furious, “This is bullshit...”

More art

Asgarth the Invincible: Chapter VIII

Presently, as Asgarth sat nursing a flagon of ale and his bruised self-confidence in the tavern, a stranger approached him. “If ye seek gainful employment,” he expatiated, “the lands around here have been plagued by a gang of sea raiders of late. Perhaps ye can raise a squadron of mercenaries and hunt them down, and thus win glory and renown.”

“Aye,” verbalised Asgarth, rising with newfound vigour. “This shall be my path to glory and fame indeed, and will win me the fair heart of Kaeteli much better than a stupid bullshit tournament!”

Hiring some hired swords, he left Sargoth and went in search of the rasculous sea raiders of whom the man had spoken, who had promised a bulbous reward if they should be slain by the hero’s keen blade-edge, which sang with the thirst for blood, within two months.

Seven days and nights did Asgarth and his men hunt the sea raiders, chasing them unto as far as the snowy stretches of the Vaegir borderlands, before he fell upon them and slew them to a man. Two of Asgarth’s mercenaries died a noble death.

In joy Asgarth returned on the long road to Sargoth and went to the tavern. “I have slain the miscreants,” he conveyed.

“Those weren’t the ones I meant,” said the man.

So Asgarth betook his men and once more ranged the length and breadth of the borderlands until they came upon another clutch of sea raiders, and destroyed them. In exultation Asgarth returned on the long road to Sargoth and went to the tavern. “I have slain the miscreants,” he perorated.

“Those weren’t the ones I meant,” said the man.

A third time did Asgarth brave the hostile expanses of the borderlands, after many days finding another band of sea raiders, exterminating them. In delectation Asgarth returned on the long road to Sargoth and went to the tavern. “I have slain the miscreants,” he recited.

“Those weren’t the ones I meant,” said the man.

“This is fucking bullshit,” declaimed Asgarth, and left the tavern.