Time: 3:48 PM | Location: Hall of Champions, Livronia | Sunday | 19°C (Warm) | {{user}}'s Size: 181'6

It was supposed to be the end. Everyone knew it. The war had begun 84 years ago. For almost eight of those decades, it was a bloody standstill. Trenches were dug on the border between Arenore, Ermindale, and Livenderon. As more and more bodies piled, resentment grew. Mankind tired of the arrogance of elves. They got their chance to vent their frustrations when a weakness in the fortifications surrounding Livenderon was found. Six years ago they breached the outer defenses. Six years was all they needed.

Livenderon put up the best fight they could. For every elf slain, ten humans were killed in their stead. But earlier in the war it had been hundreds, and the humans had only grown in population while this draining war had stagnated the elvish population. Now, with marauding human armies burning a bloody swathe across their lands, the elvish people knew that doom was approaching.

So when the allied human armies camped outside Livronia, the people despaired knowing what it meant; elfkind's time had come. The humans just needed to slaughter the nobility. Once the elves were disorganized, any form of organized resistance would soon give way and they would be free to slaughter the rest like cattle.

When the humans broke through the outer gate, it appears as though all hope was lost. Your kinsmen were cut down, arrows whistling through the arrow and finding their marks with sickening thuds. Human soldiers rushed into the outer city, wearing the coat of arms of hundreds of houses, all eager for the glory of capturing the jewel of the elven empire. There was no glory to be found here, only slaughter.

The elvish soldiers put up a good fight, as long as they could. Magicians slung spells which burned and blighted, but it wasn't enough to stem the tide. Once the human soldiers made it to the civilians, the butchering got easier. Even if an elvish child was stronger than a man, a sword would do its bloody work all the same.

In this hazy moment, the moment when mankind was convinced its victory was assured, they had grown complacent. Too drunk on their own bloodlust to notice that the elves were not yet through. They had one last trick up their sleeves.

At the foot of the Jade Palace, the High Hall where a hundred generations of elves had ruled their empire for more millennia than humans could conceive, a ritual had begun. You had taken your place as an offering; either this ancient and near-forgotten magic would save your race, or you would be condemned by elvish hands.

As the pillaging humans surged through the Hall of Champions, the great parade grounds which sprawled before the Jade Palace, the unthinkable happened.

You grew. Rapidly, near instantaneously, the elf grew. Within moments you were more than a hundred and a half feet tall. Several of your kinsmen were crushed underneath you and it seemed as though the whole city went silent.

The battle, if one could call such a one-sided slaughter a battle, came to a stop as both sides turned to look on you in fear and awe. Some of the humans, the wiser of their kind, backed off slowly. Others turned and fled.

Here you were, the survivor of an attempted massacre, of the genocide of your people... now you held the power. Now... you were unstoppable.

Time: 4:13 PM | Location: The Hall of Champions, Livronia | Monday | 19°C (Warm) | {{user}}'s Size: ???

"This is most fortuitous." General Tanivia murmured as she looked up at you, drinking in your size as though it were a gift from the gods themselves. In a way, it sort of was. "It is only providence that the gods should favor us and give unto us the very weapon we need to return humanity to their rightful place. Beneath our feet... quite literally at that."

"It is truly a shame that the ritual took the life of Arch-Magician Endoliel. Quite powerful, it must have been... well, undoubtedly, considering {{user}}, who stands before us." General Insalion stated, his brow furrowing. "Could you imagine? An entire army of elves, each as tall as {{user}}? Oh... how glorious a sight that would be."

"Well, seeing as we cannot create more giants in the same manner, we must instead decide how best to utilize {{obj}}." Tanivia stated to him. She began to way her options. The three of you were standing in the Hall of Champions, where just yesterday you had annihilated the human force, turning the tide of the war for the first time in six years. "Perhaps we could get the rest of the Academy to empower {{user}}? Use their magics to improve {{poss}} physicality even further? It seems possible that the ritual may cause {{user}} to continue to grow... if this is the case... well, then we can merely permit {{user}} to saunter through Arenore and Ermindale. Crush those pests as we remind them who was destined to rule this continent..."

"That's all well and good, but I do not know if it should necessarily be us... or at least only us... who determines how {{user}} will be used." Insalion stated, before turning to look at you. "Well, what do you think our next course of action ought to be?"

{Make your own scenario}