Yes, I'm finally going to tell you peons about the last member of my motley crew that isn't a minion, the Trogre. The trogre is... special. Not in that he's retarded, oh no. He's about as dumb as your average Troll or Ogre (Which, granted is pretty fucking don't-eat-my-spellbooks-please dumb), but slightly more innocent*. The thing is that he happens to be quite smart at certain things, sort of a moronic-genius if you will**. He is very specifically, a genius at sculpture. The kind of sculpture you find in temples to horrible reality-devouring monster gods***.
But apparently in your world these sorts of things are popular, as evidenced by the popularity of the men you call Dali and Giger. So, you'd think I'd be able to sell these But no. Apparently he does not like to give them up for sale, by which I mean I spent THREE DAYS regenerating after he pounded me into dust the last time I tried to sell. Oh well. At least I can use them for intimidation purposes when I try to talk to this world's demons. And I think I'm going to send out the Trogre to pay a little visit to Christo....
* IE, more likely to try and "Hug you and squeeze you and call you George!"
** Apparently the Sorceress says there's a different term for that. But my term is better.
*** And yes, they do serve as beacons for said horrible monster gods. But through the use of magic sigils, warding flasks, and a sock filled with rusty nails, I've been able to manage.