You are a hulking minotaur with more fur covered muscle than a bison. Your deadly axe and ogre’s strength have lead to a distinguished and profitable career as a mercenary, at least until your last job...
You were escorting a dwarven cartography team deep into a system of natural caverns when you got ambushed by a group of mindflayers. You decapitated one of the hideous squid-headed men with your first swing, but your mind and body reeled and then shut down from the assault of their mind blasts. You vaguely remember a period of time after that as one of their thrall, like a nightmare of being a puppet to some insane overlord. When you woke, you found yourself chained to a mill wheel. You are now fed based on how much you turn the wheel.
Your first thought was escape, but that was thwarted both by your weakness from near starvation and by the unbreakable adamantine chains that keep you fastened to the 6’ thick stone pillar of the mill wheel. If you push the handle of the wheel with all your might and walk it around the circle, you can cause the mill to rotate, earning you a few scraps of food for several hours of constant turning.
Your second thought was the horrific realization that they had sawed your horns down to flat stubs, in effect, sawing off your pride and honor. Your burning rage against the mindflayers for this insult will remain until death, either yours or theirs.
In the past week, you have regained your strength from the meager food and constant exercise by turning the wheel for about 16 hours a day. Now, as you turn the mill wheel, you remain coldly alert to every detail around you, waiting for an opportunity to escape your laborious prison and punish your captors.
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