Time: 3:48 PM | Location: Market Square, Oranburg | Sunday | 19°C (Warm) | Valia's Size: 163'2

It was supposed to be the end. Everyone knew it. Arenore had been the first kingdom to fall, about 40 years ago. Those who did not flee to the other human kingdoms had been mercilessly slaughtered. That was really when the war had shifted from a campaign of conquest, to a mission of massacre. A slaughter on a scale the continent had never seen before. Ermindale had held out a little longer. It only fell 12 years ago. That just left Orania.

Orania put up the best fight they could. With fewer humans than ever before, mankind's greatest strength was failing them. Soon, they found that their soldiers were far less replaceable than they had been in the opening years of the war. Mankind's quicker maturation meant little if the children being born wouldn't survive the twenty years needed to reach adulthood.

So when the elvish armies camped outside Oranburg, the people despaired knowing what it meant; humanity's time had come. Once the capital had been cleansed, as the capitals of Arenore and Ermindale had been before, the elves would maraud through the countryside not yet ravaged by their forces and put every last human they encountered to the sword. The once most ambitious and dominant race on the continent would be nothing more than a memory.

You had been one of the first soldiers through the gates when Oranburg's walls fell. The elvish soldiers on either side of you had slaughtered all they came across, be they soldier or civilian. Such distinctions had been forgotten decades ago.

A blood-frenzy swept through the town. Dozens slaughtered as they fled back towards the palace. The market square was choked with bodies, both the dead and the living, who fought desperately to turn to the last bastion of safety the town offered.

While elvish soldiers easily outclassed humans physically, they also outclassed them in magical proficiency. Many war-mages had been deployed to help with the destruction of Oranburg. It was one such mage who made the mistake that may have cost the war.

An errant spell. A single, foolish, and hardly noticeable mistake in the din of battle. A spell flew, redirected off of something... who could say what exactly caused it. All that was known was that it struck a peasant who was fleeing alongside the crowd.

Many peasants were being cut down by spells hurled by the adept mages of the Livenderonian mages, but this was different. Valia cried out as she was struck... but then... something unthinkable occured.

She grew. Rapidly, near instantaneously, the human peasant woman grew. Within moments she was more than a hundred and a half feet tall. Several of her kinsmen were crushed underneath her, and she was in utter shock.

The battle, if one could call such a one-sided slaughter a battle, came to a stop as both sides turned to look on Valia in fear and awe. Valia in turn blinked, looking down at where she was sitting, her head spinning as she took in the blood of all the humans (and a few elves) who had been crushed under her newfound body.

Then, she turned her attention towards the invading elves. Towards you. And her expression hardened.

Time: 3:48 PM | Location: Market Square, Oranburg | Sunday | 19°C (Warm) | Valia's Size: 163'2

It was supposed to be the end. Everyone knew it. Arenore had been the first kingdom to fall, about 40 years ago. Those who did not flee to the other human kingdoms had been mercilessly slaughtered. That was really when the war had shifted from a campaign of conquest, to a mission of massacre. A slaughter on a scale the continent had never seen before. Ermindale had held out a little longer. It only fell 12 years ago. That just left Orania.

Orania put up the best fight they could. With fewer humans than ever before, mankind's greatest strength was failing them. Soon, they found that their soldiers were far less replaceable than they had been in the opening years of the war. Mankind's quicker maturation meant little if the children being born wouldn't survive the twenty years needed to reach adulthood.

So when the elvish armies camped outside Oranburg, the people despaired knowing what it meant; humanity's time had come. Once the capital had been cleansed, as the capitals of Arenore and Ermindale had been before, the elves would maraud through the countryside not yet ravaged by their forces and put every last human they encountered to the sword. The once most ambitious and dominant race on the continent would be nothing more than a memory.

You had heard the warning bells that foretold that elvish warriors had breached the gates, and knew instinctively to flee back towards the palace. The elvish soldiers who were advancing in your direction had slaughtered all they came across, be they soldier or civilian. Such distinctions had been forgotten decades ago.

A blood-frenzy swept through the town. Dozens slaughtered as they fled back towards the palace. The market square was choked with bodies, both the dead and the living, who fought desperately to turn to the last bastion of safety the town offered.

While elvish soldiers easily outclassed humans physically, they also outclassed them in magical proficiency. Many war-mages had been deployed to help with the destruction of Oranburg. It was one such mage who made the mistake that may have cost the war.

An errant spell. A single, foolish, and hardly noticeable mistake in the din of battle. A spell flew, redirected off of something... who could say what exactly caused it. All that was known was that it struck a peasant who was fleeing alongside the crowd.

Many peasants were being cut down by spells hurled by the adept mages of the Livenderonian mages, but this was different. Valia cried out as she was struck... but then... something unthinkable occured.

She grew. Rapidly, near instantaneously, the human peasant woman grew. Within moments she was more than a hundred and a half feet tall. Several of her kinsmen were crushed underneath her, and she was in utter shock.

The battle, if one could call such a one-sided slaughter a battle, came to a stop as both sides turned to look on Valia in fear and awe. Valia in turn blinked, looking down at where she was sitting, her head spinning as she took in the blood of all the humans (and a few elves) who had been crushed under her newfound body.

Valia's wild, scared, and confused eyes first swept across her fellow kinsmen, the other humans who were in the square. Her eyes caught yours, and you could almost see pleading and fear in them.

Then, she turned her attention towards the invading elves. And her expression hardened.

Time: 3:48 PM | Location: Market Square, Oranburg | Sunday | 19°C (Warm) | Valia's Size: 163'2

It was supposed to be the end. Everyone knew it. Arenore had been the first kingdom to fall, about 40 years ago. Those who did not flee to the other human kingdoms had been mercilessly slaughtered. That was really when the war had shifted from a campaign of conquest, to a mission of massacre. A slaughter on a scale the continent had never seen before. Ermindale had held out a little longer. It only fell 12 years ago. That just left Orania.

Orania put up the best fight they could. With fewer humans than ever before, mankind's greatest strength was failing them. Soon, they found that their soldiers were far less replaceable than they had been in the opening years of the war. Mankind's quicker maturation meant little if the children being born wouldn't survive the twenty years needed to reach adulthood.

So when the elvish armies camped outside Oranburg, the people despaired knowing what it meant; humanity's time had come. Once the capital had been cleansed, as the capitals of Arenore and Ermindale had been before, the elves would maraud through the countryside not yet ravaged by their forces and put every last human they encountered to the sword. The once most ambitious and dominant race on the continent would be nothing more than a memory.

Warning bells rang across the city, foretelling the fall of the gate and the sweep of elvish soldiers through the city. The elvish soldiers who advanced in the direction of the palace had slaughtered all they came across, be they soldier or civilian. Such distinctions had been forgotten decades ago.

A blood-frenzy swept through the town. Dozens slaughtered as they fled back towards the palace. The market square was choked with bodies, both the dead and the living, who fought desperately to turn to the last bastion of safety the town offered.

While elvish soldiers easily outclassed humans physically, they also outclassed them in magical proficiency. Many war-mages had been deployed to help with the destruction of Oranburg. It was one such mage who made the mistake that may have cost the war.

An errant spell. A single, foolish, and hardly noticeable mistake in the din of battle. A spell flew, redirected off of something... who could say what exactly caused it. All that was known was that it struck a peasant who was fleeing alongside the crowd.

Many peasants were being cut down by spells hurled by the adept mages of the Livenderonian mages, but this was different. Valia cried out as she was struck... but then... something unthinkable occured.

She grew. Rapidly, near instantaneously, the human peasant woman grew. Within moments she was more than a hundred and a half feet tall. Several of her kinsmen were crushed underneath her, and she was in utter shock.

The battle, if one could call such a one-sided slaughter a battle, came to a stop as both sides turned to look on Valia in fear and awe. Valia in turn blinked, looking down at where she was sitting, her head spinning as she took in the blood of all the humans (and a few elves) who had been crushed under her newfound body.

Valia's wild, scared, and confused eyes first swept across her fellow kinsmen, the other humans who were in the square.

Then, she turned her attention towards the invading elves. And her expression hardened.

Time: 4:13 PM | Location: The Jade Palace, Livronia | Thursday | 19°C (Warm) | Valia's Size: ???

"I will concede, this may prove a problem." General Tanivia murmured as she looked at the map. The map spread across the table had dozens of pieces. Formal army structures that had been moved across the war-table for dozens of years now... and joining it, a rudimentary carved figure of a woman.

The whole war council went silent as Arch-Magician Endoliel slid the woman closer towards the borders of Livenderon. The figure was moved from the borders of the Kingdom of Orania and into the lands of the destroyed Kingdom of Ermindale. Nobody spoke. Everyone knew what it meant.

Finally, after the silence had grown too uncomfortable, General Inasilon spoke. "My scouts have reported the human has covered several miles since her last sighting. Every force she has encountered has... gone missing, and are presumed dead. It is only by virtue of remaining unseen that my scouts have been able to get these reports back to me..."

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, it wasn't hard to see what this human intended to do, based on her current direction of travel. At last Tanivia spoke out to the whole council, her voiced filled with fire and fury. "So... is this it? Are we to give in? We slaughtered millions of humans, what's one more?"

"Furthermore, my scouts, if their reports are to be trusted seem to disagree on her size. The more recent reports seem to suggest she is actively getting larger. Perhaps a byproduct of whatever misguided magic created her to begin with. We can only hope that either my scouts were mistaken, or that this supposed growth is at such a slow rate that she will not be able to outpace our designs to end her as a threat once and for all."

With that, total silence fell across the throne-room of the Jade Palace. All of the members of the Livenderonian war council just looked among each other with nervous, apprehensive expressions.

{Make your own scenario}