“Gather ‘round peons!”, Titan bellowed. He wore a pristine white tunic fastened with a belt so intricately detailed that it recounted the rise and fall civilizations. A giant by any measure, his massive square head towered over his scrambling peons.

He sat atop a marble throne striated with divinely purple swirls. “Lay at my feet, so I may comfort your souls,” he commanded. Oblivious to his immense strength, Titan stroked the nearest peon who cringed with discomfort.

“You see my peons, your pain, well it comes from your weakness, your weakness, well, you see, that comes from circumstances…that you must overcome. Overcoming them? I have a story for that, yet…” What sounded like a guffaw interrupted Titan’s wisdom. One of his peons was laughing. Laughing!

Titan grabbed him and applied a reflexive pulse of pressure. He opened his palm and looked regretfully down. It was limp and mangled.

“Hush, hush, peons” he dismissed softly, utterly failing to alleviate the horror. It was going to be another one of those nights the giant oaf thought, as the shrieks grew increasingly desperate.