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.