A Giant Dilemma
“Oh my, Sheogorath. Isn't this place just the epitome of everything drab, dull, and despicable in the multiverse?”
“Ha, ha! Quite so, ma dear Discord. Whiterun never was known for being the life of the party in any part of dear ol' Skyrim,” Sheogorath agreed. “The Nords here are like the grass they walk on, as plain and colorful as the belly of a baby baliwog!”
Both gods of chaos and madness were perched on a hill, which gave them a panoramic vista of the surrounding hold. The rolling fields and rough low-lying hills were relatively calm. No dragons were terrorizing the sky over the region, and much of Whiterun itself was settling down for the evening. The light from guards' torches could be seen as they patrolled the streets and outer perimeters, and many more lights burned through the windows of homes and businesses.
“Hmm, perhaps we should do something about that,” Discord declared, holding his eagle talon in the air. He was about to snap some of the digits to summon his magic. “I did come all this way from Equestria just to experience some exotic chaos for a change, after all.”
Sheogorath suppressed a chuckle as he grinned at his draconequus counterpart. “Don't get your intestines in a knot of worry now, Discord. It just ain't healthy. There's plenty of cheese fer everyone! Now, just let me summon ma Wabbajack.”
Discord watched with an eyebrow cocked impatiently as Sheogorath fumbled about, as if searching for something.
“Aha!” The Madgod exclaimed suddenly. “There ya are!” he produced an ornate silver-colored staff from a rift leading into a pocket of Oblivion. “I swear, this thing has a beautiful, deranged mind all its own. It's always disappearing and reappearing in the strangest of places! Might be Haskill just playing some pranks on me, I think. Well now, shall we?”
“After you,” Discord replied with a smirk, folding his arms expectantly.
“Ha! Here's a beautiful idea...or an ugly one...let's just cast our magic at the same time!”
“Capital idea!”
In perfect synchronization, both supernatural beings unleashed their power. The beginnings of a large, fiery vortex took shape in the sky. Soon, the distinctive tooting sound of a train horn issued ominously forth from the center.
For the people in Whiterun who happened to be witnessing the strange stirring of the sky, whether they realized it or not, they were a front stage audience to one of the greatest unleashing of pure chaos and mayhem ever perpetrated in recent history. That is, if one did not consider the event with the moons disappearing on the Void Nights, when moon sugar and skooma sales skyrocketed within Tamriel's black markets, or that one time when all of Cyrodiil was nearly overrun with adoring fans during the Oblivion Crisis.
Everywhere, the ground trembled and shook with a light but noticeable force. Elk and deer fled the area like leaves on the autumn trees of Riften Hold, while creatures like wolves, saber cats, colorful chocobos, and even lurking bandits stood wary when faced with the cause of these seismic disturbances.
The feet of a pair of mammoths trundled through the barren, tundra-like terrain of Whiterun Hold. Sparse, yellow vegetation crumpled under their titanic footfalls, and small stones in their path broke into millions of pebbles from their weight. Walking in front of them, was a giant, to whom also the shaking ground could be credited. This giant's name was Grop.
Grop stood a full ten and a half feet tall, and donned an armored wolf-pelt tunic and accessories made from the bones of many great beasts such as trolls, brown bears, and exploding doom chickens. Decorative scars and swirling tribal tattoos covered much of his visible grayish skin. He was a typical giant in Skryim, and for him, this was a typical day.
He had just finished taking his mammoths out to graze, had crushed a satisfying number of outlaws and errant, foul-mouth mud crabs on the way to and from the drinking pond, and before that, he had made sure his camp's bonfire was well tended to. All in all, things couldn't have been any more mundane, or what passes for the mundane in Skyrim, the northernmost province of Tamriel.
Later, Grop was standing in his camp, with all his personal chores done. He had two options at present as to what to do now. One, was to stand around, waiting for a group of foolish bandits to attack and try looting his chest of shiny things. Two, was to stand around, and start waiting for the Dragonborn, or just a dragon to materialize. Either way ensured that Grop would have something to shake his giant stone club threateningly at. It was kind of a past time of his, you see.
Thinking of himself as a creative type among his mysterious and solitary people, Grop settled with a mixture of both; that, and also a quick bout of mud crab roasting.
The tiny crustaceans hurled quite vulgar language his way whenever he stuck one of them onto a spit and laid them over the bonfire. It didn't help their situation at all, but still they persisted, even down to the last pincer.
Grop's mammoths were wandering around a few meters away, and the giant nomad himself was busy investigating an exposed iron vein in the ground nearby as he waited for a hostile or wandering NPC to appear. Anyone and everyone could possibly be out to steal his treasure chest full of pelts, assorted armor and weapons, and those pretty, shiny round golden things with the mysterious symbols stamped on them that appeared everywhere.
Suddenly, the grass near his camp rustled softly as two feet padded across the ground, each in rapid succession. The two mammoths paid no mind to the bipedal intruder, but Grop turned his head to examine the newcomer, who made no attempt to conceal himself.
It was a Khajiit, who met the giant's inquisitive glance with a feline grin. “Greetings, great tundra strider! I am M'aiq the Liar.”
Grop said nothing, and raised his club up in warning, as he had thousands and thousands of times to others in the past.
M'aiq the Liar continued to grin calmly under his brown hooded head. “Have you ever been to the distant continent of the colorful ponies before? M'aiq shall be going there soon. I hear tell one of their queens enjoys stalking her subjects and spending entire mornings everyday staring at the sunrise. For what reasons? M'aiq is uncertain.”
While the robed Khajiit smiled at the prospect of his upcoming travels, Grop stood awkwardly, contemplating M'aiq's outlandish rumors and comments.
“Heroes have begun fighting for control of Cyrodiil, this one hears. They say three factions have arisen, vying to out-do the others. Unfortunately, M'aiq also hears that many of these battles end in nothing but strange pauses, and almost all the warriors and mages end up leaving in frustration. Molag Bal's dark magic at work, no doubt. I also understand that the ponies across the western ocean enjoy singing delightful songs for necromantic rituals, and they tattoo their sides at a young age with nonsensical symbols in order to curry favor with the Daedric Prince Sheogorath.”
M'aiq smiled as a thought entered his head. “Speaking of whom, Khajiit believes he and a friend shall be commencing shenanigans in just a few seconds.”
Grop grumbled at him, and started scratching his back with his giant club, finally deciding that the Khajiit wasn't a threat.
“M'aiq wishes you well. Goodbye now.”
The Khajiit sprinted around Grop before he could react, then disappeared around the bend of a large rock outcropping, one of many that surrounded the camp. With not much known about the mysterious bipedal cat he had just encountered, Grop shrugged and began stroking his beard thoughtfully while scanning the countryside.
It was a shame the Khajiit had left; M'aiq was just starting to become interesting to the giant.
Suddenly, a large fiery vortex of doom, like something straight out of one of Mehrunes Dagon's wet dreams, began to take shape in the darkening sky over the human city in the distance. When Grop looked up to investigate, he noticed two strange figures on a hill in the distance. They appeared to be in the midst of jubilant revelry as the heavens trembled, and Aetherius itself seemed to tear asunder. A massive battle between several bizarre looking armies broke out on the tundra.
Several fire balls impacted the ground near his camp, then Grop heard a loud magical sound, before a large swirl of energy enveloped the surrounding area. As the magic impacted the giant and his possessions, everything went black.
When Grop's eyes opened again, he beheld the same fiery sky. However, his surrounding environment had changed radically from just a few seconds ago.
Grop was now in some kind of stone-paved city plaza. Ornate, multistory buildings topped with gleaming minarets and tiled roofs stood proudly before him, while an even more imposing mountain face loomed over all. The giant's mammoths and camp however, were nowhere to be seen.
Parks, gardens, aqueducts, and businesses spread out as far as Grop's eyes could see, and dozens of small, puny, four legged creatures roughly the height of Bosmer were scurrying about the place, screaming and panicking amidst the chaos. Judging by their attire and manner of activity, Grop concluded these diminutive creatures likely lived in the pretty, shiny town around him.
The giant stood and scratched at his facial hair bemusedly, then he squinted his serene-looking eyes as he watched the chaos unfolding all around him. It was quite a sight to behold.
Both of the mysterious beings Grop had seen earlier on his hill were now hovering over a large shiny monument depicting the sun as it appears high in the sky, on a clear day. The duo were still laughing and obviously enjoying themselves.
Burning train locomotives with smiling gray faces on the front were falling from the vortex, crashing into and severely damaging many of the pretty buildings, filling the air with the loud toot-toot and choo-choo of their horns, and the sounds of crumbling masonry. Thalmor mages, bandits, vampires, Dawnguard, Stormcloaks, and Imperial Legionnaires all were running amok in the streets, fighting one another and the armored four legged creatures without any visible objective. Dozens of them were being resoundingly by a drunk Argonian commoner who barreled into people, slipping and sliding across the ground like a possessed rag doll.
Some of the four legged beings had wings, and were flying over the city, dropping chickens in random locations. The hens exploded in large fireballs when making contact with any solid surfaces. Others were carrying miscellaneous things, such as mysterious red and white balls, wooden buckets full of sweet rolls, small tools like calipers and tongs, and scrolls of Icarian Flight, as they all dodged the incoming trains and random fireballs.
The sky also housed some other strange sights. The Imperial mage Septimus Signus streamed by on a flying carpet, cackling as he clutched some Dwemer contraption in his hands. A few groups of netches, floating, jellyfish-like creatures native to Morrowind, wandered about in the sky aimlessly.
Two of the winged beings were bigger than the others, and sported horns on their heads. While most of the four legged streamed around Grop indifferently as they fled or fought, the two winged ones started to approach him from their position on a balcony of what must be the city's castle.
Suspicious of the unknown locals, Grop waved his stone hammer at them in warning as he tried to make sense of what was going on, and just where exactly all his valuable stuff went. Eventually, he recollected what the cat man had said about a land of colorful equine-like pony creatures. Grop must have been teleported to where M'aiq had gone, and the four legged creatures were the ponies of the cat man's description.
Grop's musings were cut short as the two large winged ponies landed a cautious distance away from him. The panicking bystanders had by now started to give him a wide berth, but these two were the obvious exception. Both destroyed a group of rampaging sweet roll trolls with their horns, then swooped down onto the ground a few feet from Grop in order to get a good look at him.
Firelight gleamed on the polished gold and black crowns atop their heads as the duo peered carefully at the giant, ready to defend themselves if necessary.
Both alicorns and the giant stared at one another awkwardly for a few moments, while the chaotic mayhem was unfolding around them. Coming to the conclusion that the duo weren't apparent enemies towards him, and that the fighting NPC's all around were too distracted to notice him or the alicorns, Grop started itching his back with his club.
“Tia, who beeth this towering creature? We have seen naught like him as of yet in this strange hour. We are only witnessing the beginning of Discord and the Daedra’s most unwelcome incursion into Equestria.”
Celestia shook her head as she met the smaller alicorn’s gaze. “I'm not sure, Luna. He’s a giant, for sure. And two legged, like most of these foreign…uh…visitors.”
“Indeed, but of a far greater size than they,” Luna replied. “He stands warily, but seems to have abandoned his hostility after seeing us.” Luna pointed a hoof at Grop. “You there, giant! Art thou possibly an ally, generously dispatched by Princess Twilight Sparkle or Princess Cadence to aid us in resolving this bout of pandemonium?”
Grop shrugged indifferently, and started itching his back again. Celestia and Luna gave each other skeptical glances, before both turning around and whispering frantically.
“…I think he’s just a random giant…”
“…Pray tell, maybe he was summoned here by Vaermina, who designs to steal my dream powers…”
“…No, no, Luna. You have nothing to worry about! Surely Discord and Sheogorath are just being trolls…”
“M’aiq, that untruthful little whelp!” Luna cried out, her eyes glowing white in anger. “How dare he, to worry me so!”
At that moment, M’aiq the Liar appeared nearby. “Please don’t be furious with Khajiit. M’aiq was simply answering your questions to the best of his ability.” He knelt down and swiped two sweet rolls off a deceased Thalmor wizard, and promptly took a nibble out of one. “He apologizes for upsetting the Princess of the sacred Twin Moons. Would you like a sweet roll?”
Luna accepted the other sweet roll, and her eyes returned to normal, but she was still upset. Some frosting still rimmed her lips as she retorted, “Fine, but we shall not ask you for rumors, ever again. Thou art nearly as insufferable as that Nordic missionary imbecile living in Ponyville, at times!”
M’aiq grinned, and his ears perked up. “Khajiit enjoys rumors, and so does everyone else, even a goddess. You or Celestia will return again for more gossip soon. Of this, M’aiq is certain. Farewell, fair one. M’aiq must go, for now.”
Before Luna could respond, the Khajiit sprinted away, vanishing into the crowd of bizarre combatants. She stared in his direction, surprised. “Wait…I…” Her sister’s voice drew Luna's attention away from M’aiq.
Celestia had been watching a Hydra getting into a three way battle with a dovah and a crimson Badlands dragon higher up the mountain, when she noticed something else.
“That is so metal.... Huh? Wait, Luna, the giant is gone!”
The Princess of the Night simply shrugged. “Oh, that sucks.”
Celestia shrugged as well. Both of them then turned just in time to see someone appear from the center of the vortex, riding on the back of Paarthurnax and holding what looked like the Amulet of Kings in his hands. Both Princesses immediately started giggling excitedly like little fillies when they noticed it was The Second Coming of Martin Septim.
At the sun monument, watching down from on high, Discord directed Sheogorath’s attention to the alicorns. They both shared a bout of laughter, until Pinkie Pie showed up and flashed an open Elder Scroll into their faces, temporarily blinding them.
The mare chuckled excitedly as she made off with Sheogorath’s precious Wabbajack. “You dare steal from me? Only I steal from me!” The Madgod declared, slightly flabbergasted. “Do you even know what it is you’re carrying, lass? Give me back ma Wabbajack, ya darn little living ball of party confetti!”
“You’re gonna have to catch me first!” Pinkie Pie taunted with a sing-song voice. She then darted away, almost as fast as M’aiq would. Several blindfolded Ancestor Moth priests appeared around a corner, and began chasing after Pinkie, brandishing their katana swords furiously and shouting at her.
Discord stared at Sheogorath with an amused expression, while the latter brushed some dust off his elaborate coat. “She’s going to have a phenomenally insane time with that thing. No worries, my good man!”
“It’s good she’ll finally be able to discover her inner demented beauty and all, but I’m really, really hoping she won’t accidentally summon old man Cthulu." Sheogorath replied, laughing off his surprise." If ya think Sithis or Grogar to be the most unpleasant guys hangin’ around the realms, then you ain't ever met Cthulu at a party before!”
Outside Canterlot, Grop the Giant was wandering through some woods at the base of the mountain, looking for any sign of where his stuff could have ended up. After a few minutes of slow, lumbering hiking with his club comfortably resting over his shoulder, something made Grop come to a stop.
It wasn’t a roaming herd of friendly, “Fun!” chanting Pinkie Pie clones that stopped him, Grop had already encountered plenty of those on his journey. Rather, it was a stranger that gave him pause.
Coming from around a tree and exiting the mysterious shadows, was the imposing form of the centaur known as Lord Tirek. He looked at the giant with a pleased smile, revealing his fang-like teeth while
“Greetings, giant,” Tirek greeted, still smiling. “Could I interest you in purchasing a fine bag of dark magic and rainbows?” Ominous music started playing near him, while fireworks were going off, out of control, up in Canterlot on the horizon.
Grop scratched at his beard for a moment, lost interest in Tirek’s little brown bag, then turned around and continued on his way. Tirek muttered to himself and disappeared back into the shadows of the trees, switching the ominous music over in favor of some smooth jazz.
Further down the road, Grop stepped on something hard and metal. It made a clicking noise, then a pack of timberwolves suddenly popped up around the giant. When club waving failed to drive them off, Grop’s hammer instead came down to the ground in a herculean swing as he stepped off what must have been a pressure plate. Wood fragments and splinters flew everywhere, as the beasts practically disintegrated.
Grop then approached the pressure plate again. He discovered it to have a sign posted on its surface. It's words proclaimed, “Enemy dispenser. Please deploy and use responsibly.” Grop skirted around the pressure plate, and continued onwards, only to step on another.
The second trap had a similar sign to the first, but its message said, “Caution, beware of pressure plates.” Grop groaned in annoyance, but still continued further.
A third time, Grop stepped on a trap. He looked down at his feet and read the sign, which read, “Pressure plate dispenser”. He was about to swing his hammer down and destroy the thing in payback, but two things interrupted him.
First, a whole platoon of Equestrian Royal soldiers popped out of the bushes. They lowered their spears and muskets when their commander declared, “Wait gents, our traps were just triggered by a wandering giant, let em’ pass!”
Second, the timberwolves started forming back together. The platoon leader said to Grop, “Psst, hey giant, I know where you’re from. Hail Talos!” The group of soldiers then rushed past the giant and destroyed all the timberwolves, before galloping off in the direction of Canterlot.
Above them, several dozen rainbow-colored pony robots also streamed towards the capital of Equestria, shouting “Swag!” repeatedly.
Grop paid none of them any attention, as he had found a new lead in the epic search for his missing stuff. A piece of armor from his chest, followed by a neat trail of gold septims and even some bits were leading the giant in one direction, deeper into the forest. After following them for a few minutes, Grop found himself at the entrance to a small grotto. The pool of water within had a magical, extremely reflective surface, and the coins lead right into it.
Naturally, Grop went into the water to investigate. Not too much later, four Grops left the grotto. The original Grop had to pause and think for a moment, puzzled at his interesting new predicament. Using his hammer, he pointed and sent each of the other Grops in a specific direction, telling them their orders in Giantish. Their mission was simple: find and recover all their shiny stuff, and the treasure chest it came in.
Thus did the four giants part ways and wandered out through the soap bubble-lined highways and byways of Equestria, lumbering in pursuit of their misplaced and scattered booty.