The Direwoods

Night falls on the Direwoods. In the dark, the trees somehow look even bigger. From a distance, you can tell they're big. From up close, nothing else could compare.   Each tree pierces the sky, some so tall the canopy disappears into the passing clouds Their trunks would take ten people holding hands to wrap all the way around. The roots don't make for uneven ground, they are the ground. They're so massive one has to hoist themselves over just to pass deeper into the wood.   Corey strummed the guitar, a mellow, somber sound. He watched the treeline from the lawn chair outside his shack. He knew he was safe up on this walking island, but it didn't make him feel any better. He whistles to the tune. The song becomes more complex, more complete than it was before. Just as he begins to lose himself in it, he hears Whiskey’s voice from behind.   She whispers, but her words have a sense of urgency like a silent scream, "Stop."   He jumps, his sudden solitude shattered. "What the hell? I was just-"   Whiskey cut him off, stepping forward to observe the treeline. "You were whistling. Stop."   Tall, gangly figures emerge shrouded by the night. Covered in fur, they watch Dread Romantic pass. They then shatter the silence with monstrous howls.   Whiskey takes a sharp breath and steps back just enough to give herself comfort, but not enough to obscure the view. Whiskey hated being near the Direwoods. It made her feel like she felt back on the rez. It made her feel powerless. It made her feel small. "Cause it could get their attention."

Shortly before the end of the world came, people started noticing specific areas of dense woodland across the globe growing at an alarming rate… like, exponentially. The trees grew taller and thicker. It started in a mile area on each continent. It now dominates the same regions. It's been three years and the world is now covered in it.   The name comes from the excessive size of the trees and of course, the flora and fauna living within the region. These critters are smarter, and usually much bigger than the standard variety. It isn't just size and intelligence, however.   Weird things live in the Direwoods. Mutations are rampant. New species are plentiful and varied. We also notice hybridization among the species living within. The likelihood of seeing creatures from myth and legend are slim to none, but I could see how some creatures would be mistaken for satyrs, or other impossible things. They're rare, but they do exist.

Let me be clear. They aren't. A satyr is cut and dry, half human, half goat. That's not how the dire works. I mean, that's not even how biology works. The direwood appeared and these creatures came out of nowhere like something straight out of myth, yes. The thing is, they're not half and half. Satyrs may have humanoid characteristics but they are certainly not human.   It's not even accurate to judge whether they're more human or goat. They're neither. These creatures aren't hybrids. If you were to look for more goat or human in their physiology, you would find neither one nor the other. They're perfectly blended together. You'd find… What, hoats? Gumans?   The variety of these species are all over the place too. I've spoken to Dires and if they're to be believed, they have no memory of the time before the end of the world. They may well be humans who fell prey to nature's creativity. Any trait you'd find in nature could appear easily. That's the hard limit. If it's not found in nature, it's not of the direwood, such as a creature seemingly made of shadows…

Theories are all over the place, but there are two that stand out as far as plausibility goes. Most think it's a wayward experiment by someone like myself, a wayward spell worker who sought to correct climate change and it all went wrong. Others see it as a judgment, a punishment that forever creeps along until it engulfs everything.   Then there's the E.W.B. They have their own idea, it seems. It's not just the wood itself that causes the growth. It's also the lack of people. My guess is less than 30 % of humanity still lives. but I couldn't say for sure. If more people were cutting down trees, the Direwoods would be far less invasive. The E.W.B has an entire union dedicated to trimming the weeds and keeping the Direwoods at bay.   That being said, the Direwoods are merely the result, not the cause. Some, but not all of the Direwoods' strangest inhabitants were human at some point. This is due to exposure to something deep within the woods. We call it the direwood sheen, and its effects are… extensive.

Direwood sheen is the condition that causes not just the strange creatures living in the Direwoods, but the Direwoods themselves. It's named after the initial symptoms before the change, a sudden onset of jaundice and increased oil production in the skin. It makes the skin look shiny.   Direwood sheen is definitely magical in nature but it's too wild and unpredictable to be man made. We don't know what causes it and treatment is only possible through a spell worker. Magic is picky like that.   While treatable, once a change occurs, it's technically irreversible. Yeah I can make your new tail or a set of gills go away but it could always come back. If it's a severe enough change, fixing it wouldn't be worth it. Lots of side effects. You are rearranging genetic code, after all.

Once a year, large swaths of the Direwoods population leave the confines of the woodland and venture out into the wider world. They settle in small villages, often as far from humans as possible. They're out of their element out there.   It's unclear what drove them from their home. They find enemies everywhere they go, both due to their grotesque appearance and savage tendencies. Despite this, they refuse to return.   Most are capable of speech, though many find it hard to learn or remember how. They make excellent trading partners, having little to no concept of profit. They're wild by nature, however. One best keep their distance if possible.

Corey watches the figures for a time. Their howls are like music and it has him thinking.   "Dires." Whiskey spits the word out. "Why are they whining like that?"   "Chill." Cory shakes his head. These cries are that of pain, of sorrow. He could taste it on the wind. "Why do you hate them? Dires aren't so bad."   "I don't hate them." Whiskey turns to look him in the eye. "I'm afraid of them."   "The rez?"   "That's part of it." Whiskey reaches into the pocket of her hoodie and pulls out a glass pipe. "They drove us off of the reservations. A lot of superstitions proved true that night."   Cory nods, watching her light the pipe and draw in the smoke. "So… yet again, you're people had their land stolen. I thought you didn't care much for your heritage."   She looks upset at first, but then the high starts setting in. "I guess I do care."  

  "Or maybe you're worried. Smells like worry. Could be anxiety." He strokes his beard, and finally comes to a conclusion. "Your culture is where much of your magic comes from, right?"   "Shut up, Cory." Whiskey shakes her head, a nervous smile on her face. "Not today. Okay?"   With a nod, Corey changes the subject. "They like the music."   "What?"   "The dires." Corey strums the guitar once more. The moment the music starts, the howling stops. The dires sit in silence staring at them from afar as if they can actually hear it.   "They hear it from way up here?"   He laughs. "Doomsday therapy. They can't hear the music, but they can feel it." The chords grow brighter. The song takes on a far happier tone. Cory feels it, a burning in the chest and a rush of dopamine straight to the brain. "Everyone deserves a little joy, don't you think?"