They named me Minion 13. I really don’t have any memory of how I got here or who I am for that matter. I remember waking up on the ground with a circle of monsters looking down at me and laughing. They were dressed in bloodstained armor from head to toe and their faces looked like something from a nightmare.  As one of the monsters, a fierce looking thing with war paint crudely smeared across his face, reached down towards me, I started to slip from consciousness once again. As my vision darkened, I heard one whisper a word that drilled itself into my mind and turned my soul to a shadow.

Minion…

So here I am. They brought me back to a tower that seemed to go all the way up to infinity. Fire and smoke belched from fissures in the soot darkened stone and everywhere was the deafening sounds of creaking machinery and screams of fear and pain. I was thrown into a cell with a bunch of slaves where I finally found out what this nightmare actually was.

I was imprisoned by orcs.

After several futile attempts at escaping, I was dragged by one of the orcs to a room in the upper levels of the tower. I was roughly chained to the wall by the neck with a barbed chain that cut into my skin if I struggled so all I could do was stand still and wait for my fate. After what seemed to be days I was delirious with fatigue and hunger. Suddenly, a large, ornately carved door slammed open and slaves started running out carrying musical equipment. Amplifiers and drums were set up quickly and silently as torches were lit to light the crudely fashioned stage. The slaves finished their work and left as fast as they appeared and a drone of feedback wailed from the monstrous amplifiers they had set up.

The door opened again releasing a fog that crept along the ground swallowing the floor. A putrid smell entered the room, immediately followed by the orcs themselves. The Chieftain slammed me against the wall and growled,” Now human, you will see our power.”

After a quick four count, the orcs launched into some of the most vicious and blistering metal I had ever heard. The bass and drums shook my very core while the shredding guitars assaulted my eardrums like a lightning strike to the head. The Chieftain growled and screamed at me, inches away from my face. His words filled my brain with images of death, war, and orcish glory. Against all odds I was able to open my eyes and smile. My head started moving back and forth, causing my chains to pierce my skin, soaking my shirt and turning my face to a crimson mask.

I woke up back in my cell a month later. There had been a rebellion among the slaves but the orcs had been victorious once again. An antique typewriter was in the cell with a note scrawled across what looked like a piece of human skin…

“Welcome to the domination – Grimp”