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Horniness.
That was, somehow the most surprising thing about waking up in a coffin, without any memories, hearing an ancient twisted being of nebulous origin tell his subordinates to rub acid in my eyes, and being dressed in armor evil enough to make a town of hobbits shit themselves. The fact that I felt a burning (no not that kind of burning) need to find someone to fuck was strange because it felt so at odds to the rest of the situation. I sat on a ruined throne, gazing at the titanic chunks of stone torn from the ceiling and walls in some great battle that had ended my predecessor, in a great spire that wrapped itself around the highest of the sheer, misty peaks that dotted the indistinct landscape below. An air of grandiose malice hung low in the air, and yet my strongest feeling about the situation was centered entirely on my crotch. What made the situation truly annoying however, was the lack of options available.
The minions all seemed to be male, but even if I were gay I wouldn't count them as... options. They were twisted little things, barely reaching my knee, brown skinned and pointy eared and about as intelligent as your average sheep. The only exception was Gnarl, the grey skinned leader of the minions. He may have shared the height and shape of the rest of the minions, but he had a feral intelligence about him, and had already let slip stories about Overlords even older than my predecessor. He was currently telling another story about another lord long dead.
"And that's when the fool said: please spare my son, lord, for he has done nothing! I mean, we didn't even know he had one! I swear, that boy's screams kept a smile on my face for weeks." Gnarl's stories tended to follow very similar formats, and usually involved savage beatings. They tended to wear on you after around the twentieth one. I hadn't had much of a chance to talk since I had been woken, but at this point I was willing to risk making a fool out of myself in order to avoid hearing another of Gnarl's tales.
"Gnarl. What is our course of action? I don't believe that you are particularly content living in such a condition." I gestured to the gaping holes in the roof.
"Ah! Of course, sire. Forgive me for getting distracted. Our first order of business will be reclaiming the tower heart. The heroes took off with it when they killed the last lord. Without it you won't be able to generate any more power for your tower! Truly a terrible business. The good news is that it's just close enough to us that I can use the last bit of leftover energy to teleport you to a nearby tower gate. From there it should be a simple matter to retrieve the heart." Gnarl had been shuffling towards a pool that was set into the ground immediately outside the throne room as he talked. I began walking over to him as he started to focus on the water in front of him. Flickering violet lines began to crisscross the surface of the pool, twisting together and becoming stronger and stronger until they eventually heaved a cord of water into the air to form an arch. On the other side were a set of standing stones on a verdant hill, a gentle slope leading towards fields of frolicking sheep, fluttering butterflies and soft grass. Frankly it made me a little sick.
"Must we Gnarl?" It was painful enough to look at, I couldn't imagine what it would be like to step into. Gnarl sighed.
"Unfortunately, sire. If it's any consolation I will be travelling with you until you find the heart. Misery loves company, after all." The little gremlin stepped onto the water's surface, and it held his weight as well as the stone floors had. With a glance back at my newfound throne, I stepped onto the pool and towards the peaceful hell that awaited.
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