The cyclops had no need for fanfare or announcement, the only ones that could make such a horrible pounding were only them. The ground itself seemed to be shaking, the gigantic feet marching forward and leaving fat imprints across the ground.
"Damnit dad, I thought you told them to bring only ten or so! Or maybe some of the more shorter ones-" Nimra couldn't continue with her outrage much longer, as Nimral bonked his fist against her forehead.
"I don't remember teaching you to speak so rudely in the presence of other tribes. The monoya wouldn't say anything, but those damn gheckla wouldn't let me hear the end of it. And those cyclops would blow apart my eardrums, so shut your mouth until you can be civil." Veins were bulging on the side of her old man's head, but his friendly smile still remained.
"Oiii! You guys are all as short as ever. How do you live in those little cushions of yours?" A hulking behemoth of a man, barely qualifying as a humanoid. Instead, he looked a lot more like an ogre, the single eye on his face being a foot tall all on its own. He stood at a enormous five meters, doubling Nimral's height with two feet left to spare. The man's brutish face was rugged and weathered, and his sharp chin housed a magnificent beard.
"I don't know, how do you cyclops fit into those houses of yours? When I went up to your village, your buildings looked a lot more like clown cars." The woman leader of the monoya tribe spoke out, drawing the ire of the not so friendly giants.
"You shut your hole, Chiyo. No one insults the legendary Blackbeard's village!"
"Isn't everything to you legendary, Blackbeard? I wonder if those upper demons would consider displaying your bones as a "legendary", toothpick." Nimra and some of the nimms covertly laughed at that, giggling only in their minds. The best part was always the monoya pissing off the cyclopses and the latter not being able to do anything, as they had a truce. Unfortunately, that meant that the cyclops could abuse anyone else and Chiyo would never step in...
The fat eyeball darted away from Chiyo and landed squarely on Nimral. "I hope you'll forgive me, but there was no wood puny enough for your little campfire." Jeers and derision could be heard from the crowd of cyclops, who thought they were being discrete. It was kinda hard to hide a giggle when your average height was triple the size of even the tallest of the other races.
"Then do you not want peace? This is a tradition that has never been skipped since our forefathers found our villages. Last year, even though you didn't come you still sent the wood. I get that you're a new leader, but-"
"BUT? No, you should've cut off at new leader. I'm doing things different from those past idiots that called themselves tribe leaders. Why should we donate ANY of our resources to puny little pricks like you?"
Silence. Aggression. The words uttered by Blackbeard resounded about the place, firmly lodging themselves in the mind of all that heard it. Chiyo sat and chewed on a stalk of weed, asserting her stance. The gheckla leader crossed his arms and backed off a little, his cowardly tendencies being evident to each and every person present. Nimral and Blackbeard were glaring fiercely at each other, while Nimra kept her head down, still at work.
She never understood why cyclops got more and more belligerent as the years went on. Nimra was always a hard worker, doing her best for the tribe. When she was little, she was always humble...although her teachers may disagree, they would all concur that she never hurt anybody. She hoped and prayed that someone could defend her people. Her dad may be strong, but cyclopses are a bit too big for any nimm to fight.
—
Alban emerged from the lake, outfitted completely in his shorts and anklet. Although trees obscured his range of sight, that didn't do much to hide the huge people further off in the distance.
"Had fun?" The melodious voice of Lark chimed from Alban's left, his sylphlike form splayed lazily on top of a rock. The smile had never left his face, his fingers tracing languidly over his harp. He sat up and looked directly at Alban, his intent gaze watching the latter's every move.
"I guess. So, you're a reallll prophet, yeah?"
"About as real as it gets, I'd say. Watch, I'll say the same thing you'll say right now. At the same time."
"Hey, can I kill those things?" Two voices rang out in tandem, one deep and striking; the other mild and dulcet. The two smiles were mirrored on their faces, a grin that failed to reach their eyes.
—
A massive swing tore apart the air that was obstructing it, aiming directly at Nimral. The old nimm dodged while the others in the area retreated rather far from the fight. Nimra was directing them, keeping her eyes fixed on her father but trying her hardest to protect her tribe.
Nimral ran forward and rammed himself into Blackbeard's leg before landing on the cyclops's feet. Flung in the air shortly after, Nimral's mouth was silently chanting before he was redirected towards Blackbeard's face instead. He landed directly on Blackbeard's shoulders, gripping onto the back of the cyclops's head with his legs and aiming his bunch of fives directly at Blackbeard's nose.
"AUGHHH!" Nimral was underestimating his opponent because of their status as a fledgling chief. He didn't expect to have his ears ringing from Blackbeard's cries of agony, and loosened his grip. Seizing the chance, Blackbeard waved his fat mitts and swatted the old man off of his face.
"Take that, you small fry! This village will be mine if I kill you...so hold STILL!" Nimral wasn't going to sit down and comply to the cyclops's outrageous demands, and quickly rolled backwards. It was just in time too, as Blackbeard's fat foot left a deep imprint on the ground where he once laid.
Nimral's chanting resumed, the area getting dense and foggy, with small amounts of light beaming from their gaseous home. The fog expanded and then condensed, before a ray of light shot out directly at Blackbeard's eye. The ray hit it's target squarely in the center, blinding the gargantuan beast. Nimral then stood on his opponents face before whaling on it, his clenched fists creating fleshy thwacks that pervaded the sounds around them. Because of that, the old man had no clue that the cyclopses in the back were stepping towards him, getting ready to crush him...
Nimra bit her lip, looking away from the harrowing sight. She wanted to help him dearly, but she knew that if they were to both die no one would be left to lead her tribe. Itchy tears flowed down her face, the water plopping onto the ground before her. That was when she heard the voices of two youths walking past her.
"So, how many do I have to kill?"
"Just one will do the trick, yeah? I don't think you could handle so many as you are now."
"Hah. Which one then? I hope it's not that stupid black Santa looking cyclops on the ground over there."
"You couldn't even beat him right now anyways. One of those cyclops attacking Nimral should do nicely, though."
"Well, as long as you know. I'll be going now." The pugnacious cyclopses were about to get their first taste of fear.