Once apon a time, in the Castle of Kreigspire, there were many mages hard at work. One of the most itelligent, and most reckless mages was named Agar. He was, in short, a genius. A very short-sighted genius. Under his guidence, the spellcasters had given birth to a new race. Strong, stubborn, stupid, should be the perfect guards. They were named Minotaurs.

Several of the sorcerers were far more interested in their wallets than the scientific achievements. They were already marketing their creations far and wide. In time, their efforts were rewarded when a religious organization indicated an interest in one of their creations. A Prime specimen, one of the latest and greatest of the Bull-Men to come out of the lab.

Actually, as fate would have it, this particular specimen was unique in that it had a twin. While several commitees wanted to keep both of the twins around for further study, dissection, and replication (two for the price of one, maximize profit!), the project funding oversight commitee had the final say, and the sale was made.

The Church of the Sun arrived to pick up the guardian of their treasure room. It was a wonderful, beautiful day, the sun glinting off of the four lakes and big puffy clouds drifting lazily through the sky. In the Castle itself, the Mages escorted the Big Minotaur to his new masters. The whole castle turned out for the occasion, the first indication that their endevoer was going to show a profit. Even Agar was pulled away from his study of some strange crystal.

"Ah, good Mages, we did order but one of your creations. I'm afriad our budget is rather limited at the moment, at least until we can convince His Majesty to support our cause against the foul Moon worshippers." He spat on the ground. "Err, what?" A young sorcerer intelligently said. "Oh, how cute, his twin followed him out here."
Agar, impatient to get back to his crystal, moved forward and grabbed the puchased thing by its nose ring. and pulled. "Come on, come on, that other one must be defective. We did not create these with any emotions, I assure you. Here you go, thank you very much, do come again." The minotaur stumbled forward, attempting to stop the painful tugging at its sensative nose.
"Noooooo goooooo!"
"What was that?" blurted the same bright young sorcerer.
"It talks?" asked the clergyman with amazement.
Now very impatient, Agar replied, "Yes, well, they have a basic intelligence and can learn simple words. No Go, quite useful words for a guardian, yes? Yes. Quite. Well then, off you go."
The twin moved forward, towards its departing brother. "Stay!"
"Enough of this nonsense!" With that, Agar made a few mystical gestures, and the sold minotaur, and the clergy disappeared through a Portal, back to their island home.
"And as for you, number 67, you are going to the lab! You, sorcerer, with the fuzzy cheeks, I want to examine this one's brain."
"Lurch!"
"Wha-? Lunch? You are hungry? Forget it, you don't have to worry about food anymore!"
The minotaur stepped forward. Its nostrils flared. One finger jabbed at its chest. "Not sixty-seven. Am Lurch. Is Name! Bring Brother Back Now!" Its voice had risen steadily, and the final bellow disturbed the flock of bird-like creatures Agar was still trying to perfect. Their screeching filled the air, almost drowning out Agar's response. It would have been a far, far better thing, had they been just a little louder. Alas, like their creator, they were imperfect.

"He's not coming back, you'll never see him again! Him? Heavens, I'm treating this thing like a person, now...." We shall never know what Agar was going to say, for he was interrupted one final time by Lurch. "DIE!"

And Agar did. He was carried away by his fanatically dedicated assistants, as a furious battle erupted. The other Minotaurs rushed out of the castle to defend Lurch, and attack the mages. The mages were shocked to see some of their creations casting lighting bolts just as deadly as their own. It was, alas, a very one sided battle. Despite the strength of the Mages, Sorcerers and Warlocks, they were no Match for the Minotaurs. TO aid to the chaos, somebeast opened the drake pen and released the bird-creations of the late Agar. As Mage after Mage died, or portaled or Beaconed out in panic, a decision was made. A small band of Earth Mages stayed behind, protected by the Master Bowman himself, and tried, with all of their strength, to raise the earth.

The Lakes spilled, and emptied, as the mountains rose. Fish flopped on the ground, the earth shook, and the mountains rose. Mages and Minotaurs bleed and died, the Castle trembled, and the mountains rose. Arrows and lighting bolts flew, drakes screamed, magic filled the air, and the mountains rose. Climbing ever higher into the sky, higher than any sorcerer could fly, the mountains rose.

It was days before the shaking of the earth stopped, but only hours before the last of the Mages had fled from the Castle. The drakes, bird-things, and minotaurs battled and argued and staked out sections of the castle. And as for Lurch, the first, and only Minotaur to give himself a name, he was shunned by his brethern, for he had slain their creator. He never saw his brother again, but sat, waiting in a darkened closet, not needed food, or sleep, for a chance at revenge.