The sky darkened over Aaq Samer as Miryh looked up at a figure that could only appear in his darkest nightmare.  Yet here it was, made flesh.  The elf knew his role in this ghastly creature’s appearance in their forest home, but could no longer stop the atrocity that was unfolding before him.  In a flash, his lifelong friend Usmag was whisked away from his side.

*Three days earlier*

The humans were once again encroaching in territory that didn’t belong to them.  It was bad enough to establish the village of Mylig so close to the edge of the forest territory of the Matja Plutarchy, but to then to knock down trees dedicated to syrup production in order to make room for more buildings that weren’t even within the bounds of their kingdom was far more than could be tolerated, particularly by invested elites within Matja. 

So it came as no surprise to High Conselwoman Usmag when her old acquaintance Miryh barged into the Grand Cabal’s meeting room to demand an invasion of Mylig to reappropriate trees, syrup, and land he felt were owed to him.  Usmag had known Mylig since they were both infants.  Even after two-hundred years, she had never once seen a bound to the unchecked arrogance that got Mylig thrown out of the Grand Cabal in the first place.

She knew Miryh had no love lost for humans.  A race clever enough to recognize a bad deal when they saw one and brutish enough to use violence to make their dissatisfaction known was never going to be popular with a silver-tongued scammer like him.

“For the last time, Miryh!  We’re not going to risk our trade alliance with the Kingdom of Man by invading Mylig.”

“But the humans have already encroached far into our lands.  It’s the syrup groves now, but what happens when they don’t stop.  They're already so close to the river.  What if they start hunting elk on our territory?  Our monopoly on furs would be in jeopardy!”

“We’ll cross that bridge if it comes to it.  Trust me, Miryh, I would love to squander resources fighting a war we can’t win, so that you can protect fairly insignificant holdings that you possess through no merit of your own, but that really isn’t in the Great Cabal’s best interest.  If the outcropping you put to no greater use than providing drunken gnomes swill that an ogre wouldn’t drink was that important to you, maybe you should have been the one to protect your own territory.”

“Madame, you do my troubles and my character a great disservi-”

“Come now!  We both know it’s true.  If it will get you off this assembly’s back, we can let you have some of the trove we got from negotiating with the capital of the Kingdom of Man.”

“I can’t believe after all we’ve been through, you would…  How much of a cut are you proposing?”

“5% of the gold, and no more than 3% by value of the goods.  That’s far more than your land was worth in its entirety when it was whole.  And before you open your mouth, that’s our final offer.”

“I suppose I have no other choice, as this assembly has twisted my arm on the subject.  Fine!  I accept your kind offer.”

Miryh was led into the appraisal room, only to find that most of the haul was in the form of goods anyway.  His share had been substantially smaller than expected.  Grumbling as he picked through the goods he would in all probability have to sell at a markdown, he came upon a collection of trinkets.  The garbage in the collection was so abysmal, that Miryh doubted he could even convince a gnome to take them for free.  But the real thing that caught his eye was a tattered book in the center labeled “Catalog” by the appraiser.  It seems the overworked peon thought the book was just a catalog of the trinkets written in a foreign language.  But a more thorough inspection revealed that to be far from the truth.  While the trinkets were clearly goblin-made, the book was written in a foul script.  A language few would know and even few would dare let escape their tongue.  Dryadsong.

The dryads had long ago defiled the land of the living with their presence.  From their home within a marsh that would come to be known as G’Teifly Qacern (Ancienttongue for ‘spider’s death throes’), they dedicated themselves to unnatural and arcane agendas.  Those who crossed paths with them were left twisted, rotted shells as the dryads used them to practice their sorceries.  It was even said that the trees themselves bent and twisted to the whims of the dryads.  Only through bloodshed and sacrifice from all races upon Earth did the blight of these mystic abominations finally dissipate.  

Miryh couldn’t believe his luck that such a rare artifact had been mixed in with the trash.  He grabbed the collection and continued to load his satchel.

When he finally got his share of material and money, he returned to his home within the syrup groves.  Within the Aaq sruiz Miryh, a land Miryh named after himself, he unpacked his bags and combed through his new acquisitions.  He first inspected the book.  Miryh new very little Dryadsong.  Most teachers in Matja would never dare to teach it, for fear of the dangerous power it wielded.  And while that may have been a good enough excuse not to for the feeble-minded and cowardly, he always knew he was destined for greater things.

And greater things seemed to be in store, for this was no ordinary book, but a detailed journal of all this dryad’s forays into particularly cruel magics.  This would be just the thing to secure his power over Aaq sruiz Miryh.  He wouldn’t need an army, if he had the power of one.

Flipping through the pages, it seemed his less than comprehensive knowledge of the language proved to make many of the potions and rituals a bit difficult to decipher.  Getting frustrated he found nothing at all he could actually perform.  He looked at one particularly ornate page with a picture of a dryad flanked by a miniscule dryad.  On it, was the title “J’jaqr Cawer Jyi Ivs”, or “The two bean-size spell”.  Intrigued, Miryh read the fairly simple spell.  All it required was to utter a chant while the victim was standing in a circle to make them the size of two beans.  This was perfect, since Mylig was already laid out in the shape of a circle.

He would set his plan into action tomorrow!  Then the humans would come to regret their transgressions.

Miryh begged and pleaded for his life, but it was clear that his tormentor could not hear his cries, nor would head them if he could.  Nothing could satisfy his unchecked destructive urges.  Miryh’s only hope was that whatever the man had in store for him would be a far cry less horrifying than what his allies and friends had gone through.

*Two Days Earlier*

With the preparations complete, Miryh took a group of his most trusted gnomes to help him gather up his prisoners once the spell started taking effect.  His gnomes were the finest army a man could ever hope for while still grossly underpaying for his labor.  Miryh was by no means an unreasonable man.  These were criminals who had invaded his property and stolen his goods, but he would dispense reasonable justice.  He would simply use the jail he constructed (really just a wooden box) to house these hooligans until they promised to pay him the value of the goods they had stolen.  Plus interest of course, as that was only fair.  In fact, the jail could be counted as temporary lodging, so he might just charge for that too!

But he was putting the cart before the horse.  The gnomes surrounded the village, the moons were aligned, and he had his Dryadsong incantation in hand.  He slowly read the dark text.

“Ckidivs jyi ly d’qyv’c is viqf raekky ul uyl r’cif kkadags di qavinags uz”

As soon as he finished his incantation, he sent the order for his gnomes to advance, but the ground started to shake violently.  There was nothing in the spellbook about this, or at least not that Miryh knew.  Many of the gnomes panicked and fled.  Those that didn’t soon became privy to the source of the grounds rumbling.  A wooden shack near the edge of the village started to show extreme wear on its sides, as though somebody was trying to push the walls down.  Suddenly, a family of four emerged from the house.  Yet not through the door, but smashing through the walls as they started growing at an alarming speed.  Soon they were all larger than the house they were occupying.  And more concerning was that the same story was happening to the home next door, and the next, and the next.

Miryh didn’t know where his spell had gone wrong.  Did he pronounce the spell wrong?  His vocabulary wasn’t the greatest, but he was certain that his studies with the Elder of Beangrove had prepared him for…

That’s when Miryh realized.  Jyi wasn’t the word for ‘bean’; that was myaz.  So what was the spell intended to do.  He was sure he knew the word jyi from somewhere.  But then he had a realization.

Jyi was the word for ‘oak tree’.

This spell was never meant to make enemies small.  It was supposed to make allies big.  Specifically, twice as tall as an oak tree.  And now he had just used it on a number of already antagonistic humans right before sending a gnome army after them.

“Hey!  Let me go!”

Miryh heard a gnome girl cry out for help as she dangled between the fingers of a large man.  His body was thin, yet toned.  His eyes a deep muddy brown that matched his unkempt hair.  His legs and torso had little hair, almost as a lady of a noble house.  But the rough, callused skin along his hands and feet betrayed the hard life of labor he had led up to now.  However, the most striking features on the man were his jovial smile, and the long drooping rod between his legs, beginning their own expansion into others’ territory.

“You gnomes look so cute when you’re all small like this!  I wonder what kind of gnome you are?”

He put the gnome in his palm and started slowly stripping away her armor piece by piece.  She tried to keep him from removing her coverings, but the boy had no interest in letting this gnome escape clad in her meager, cheaply-made plating.  He ripped everything off the gnome, including the garments beneath, until she lay bare in his hand.  The poor gnome could do nothing but tremble from within his grasp until he spoke.

“Nice!  Looks like I found a Mrs. Gnome!  Would you like me to show you to your new home?”

He brought the trembling gnome to his crotch as he touched himself.

“Please, I’m sorry.  I didn’t want to raid your village.  I’ll leave and never come back, I promise.  Just let me go!  I’ve learned my lesson.”

The man tilted his head and gave her an inquisitive stare.  “I don’t care about any of that.  You’re just a cute little lady gnome, and I want a cute little lady gnome to pleasure me.  It’s as simple as that.  It could have been anybody.  It just happened to be you.”

“Wait, please.  This isn’t right!  I have a family!”

“Oh, I’d love to play with them too.  Actually, better stick to just the women.  I don’t really have much use for the men.”

The gnome screamed unholy utterances as the giant guy pressed her face against his urethra, already leaking precum.  First her head went in, then with a bit of resistance her shoulders, then her torso until finally her feet disappeared into the monstrous cock.

He quickly grabbed another gnome and started unwrapping it as well.  However, when the little thing’s member was finally exposed the giant looked down with disgust.

“Uggh, this is a Mr. Gnome.  No room for you in my cock!”

He squeezes this new gnome between his fingers until his body pops like a grape.  He quickly finds another gnome, this one female, and loads her into his cock as he strokes himself with his bloody hand.

Miryh turns around and runs.  The book didn’t have a reversal spell that he could see, so I needed reinforcements.  Surely now, the Grand Cabal would see the urgency of the situation.  If he couldn’t convince everybody, he could at least convince enough that they get at least a slightly better army to help.

Miryh sees a thick white stream drop from the air and splash down next to him.  Floating down the stream, two asphyxiated gnomes bloated from the thick white goop they had to ingest.  He turned around to see the giant, with his cock now slowly becoming flaccid, turning and walking the other direction, presumably to find some more of his friends.

When Miryh approached the Grand Cabal, they had already received reports of giant sightings in the southern clearings, but it wasn’t until they pried a full explanation from the panicked, disgraced would-be wizard that the true desperateness of the situation became clear.

Usmag chastised the fool for tampering in forces he did not understand.  She stressed that she had not been so close to him for many centuries that he would be rotting in prison for the rest of his miserably long life.  As she was dressing down the oaf, a report came back from a scouting mission to the area of the giant sighting.

A particularly frazzled scout gave a report of a giant attacking their encampment.  Though the giant had speckled blonde hair and dull green eyes, he held himself with the grace of a nobleman.  Quickly he scooped up the scouts as they fled until only the commander remained.  Yet once he identified his prey, all veneer of honor and nobility fell away.  The giant made the scouts watch as he tore their commander limb from limb.  The commander then had the rest of his body mashed between the giant’s fingers.  Yet surprisingly, he let the rest of the scouts go as soon as he finished his sport with their leadership.

Two days of preparation passed, when rumbling was heard from the south in the direction that the scouts came.  Trees dropped low, the ground quaked, and the elven army started lining up to protect the border of Aaq Samer, with the Grand Cabal seeing them off on their dangerous mission.  Unfortunately, they underestimated the speed of the giants.

The sky darkened over Aaq Samer as Miryh looked up at a figure that could only appear in his darkest nightmare.  Yet here it was, made flesh.  The elf knew his role in this ghastly creature’s appearance in their forest home, but could no longer stop the atrocity that was unfolding before him.  In a flash, his lifelong friend Usmag was whisked away from his side.

The blonde giant held the elven woman with his middle and index fingers against her shoulders, and his thumb against the gap between her shoulder blades on the back.  He gave her a self-satisfied glare.

“So this is the High Conselwoman?  Are you telling me you used to rule over the Matja Plutarchy?  Pathetic!  Good thing a new set of rulers is in town.  Hey Arthur!  Justice!  I found them!”

That’s when two more giants charged from past the trees.  One that seemed to answer to Justice was a black-haired youth with wide eyes and sharp features that Miryh didn’t recognise.  The same could not be said for Arthur.  His face Miryh would recognise anywhere.  After what he witnessed him massacre the gnomes for his own sexual gratification, how could he not?

“I suppose introductions are in order.  My name is Rook.  These are my companions Arthur and Justice.  We’ve decided that since you elves are so weak and powerless before our superior might, you should become our subjects.  The capital of Matja is now under the control of us giants!  And our first order of business as your new rulers…”

He lifted Usmag to his face and beamed at her.

“... is to get rid of the old rulers.”

Usmag screamed as the giant shoved her spine forward while holding her shoulders in place.  She heaved and cried as a hole began to tear in her chest and her guts and bones were roughly shoved through it.  The elven army tried to charge Rook, but Arthur began to scoop up soldiers and press them against his cock.  Rook went after more and more members of the Grand Cabal.

Justice simply squished soldiers under his foot as they approached, until he noticed a particularly portly elf flee from the battlefield.  His curiosity peaked, he stepped past the army and went in pursuit of the fat merchant.  He would have caught up to him sooner, but not every civilian had evacuated Aaq Samer in anticipation of the attack, so each one Justice saw, he crunched beneath his toes.

Finally, Justice finally plucked Miryh up in his fingers and got a good look at the strange, ugly coward.

“Please, I’m nobody of importance.  Killing me won’t get you any political power, and I’m hardly an appealing individual.  If you want wealth, I have plenty.  Just spare my life, please!”

The giant simply tilted his head and looked at him as though he had spoken a different language.

“But I don’t really want any of that stuff.  It’s Rook that wants power, and Arthur that chases after more lovers.  My wants are real simple.  If I see a small creature, I wanna squish it.”

Justice suddenly dropped Miryh and screamed.  Looking at his finger, a clear bite mark was dripping slightly with blood.  Miryh’s right leg broke on impact with the ground, but his sense of fear and self-preservation pushed him forward until he came face to face with a cliff formation, trapping him in.  He watched Justice approach, unable to escape.

Miryh begged and pleaded for his life, but it was clear that his tormentor could not hear his cries, nor would head them if he could.  Nothing could satisfy his unchecked destructive urges.  Miryh’s only hope was that whatever the man had in store for him would be a far cry less horrifying than what his allies and friends had gone through.

“Wait!”  He said and lifted the tome of spells over his head.  The giant seemed perplexed by his actions and bent down to take a look at whatever artifact the tiny elf was waving at him.

“Don’t you want to know what spell gave you such a power?  If you spare me, I can give you the spell that made your village big.  Surely you want the rest of humankind to have the power you do, right?  You’ll be a hero to your people.  All you have to do is spare…”

The giant stopped listening and rose to his full height.  Putting his hand to his cock, Miryh stepped back, but not far enough to avoid the horrid yellow fountain that rained down on him and his book of spells.  The book gave a ghastly howl as the ink ran and the parchment turned to mush.  Miryh for his part struggled to keep his head aloft as the soil beneath his feet was carried in the current, sinking him into the marshy ground.

“That’s a good offer, merchant man!  I bet Arthur or Rook would have taken you up on that in a second.  But I told you already.  I don’t wanna make tiny things grow bigger…”

He lifted his dirty sole over the cowering, shivering elf.  In his last moments, he cursed Usmag for ever letting him near that cursed book.

“... I wanna squish em!”

Justice’s foot dug into the ground until he had trouble pulling it out.  When he did, Miryh’s body was so thoroughly buried in the mud that it couldn’t be seen.  Justice smiled at a small creature well squished and went off to join his friends in more adventures, terrorizing the elves, gnomes, fae, and even other humans in their hedonistic pursuits.

The footprint left in the mud hardened in a drought.  When a storm hit the area, it filled and became a small pond.  Woodland creatures gathered at it for lifesaving water, and a weeping willow came to grow at it’s side.  The pond was given the name Clin Siid, or “The Foot Pond”, both because of its origins and it’s convenience as a stop for weary travelers to rest their feet.

But travelers beware, should the ground rumble, run.  For although the giants have formed their own empire alone in the empty plateaus of Riyasyk Nus N’la, cruel giants still roam this forest.  May the influential, the beautiful, and the weak keep their eyes open, for giants are always on the lookout for their next prey.

Travelers should also beware traveling to Clin Siid on the night of a new moon.  It is said that at the new moon’s apex, the weeping willow will open its branches and reveal the Dryad of Matja.  There are three telltale signs that a creature beneath the willow is the Dryad of Matja: its foul stench, its haughty ego, and its greedy heart.