There was a beat that was being felt all across the land. All the angry undead grass elementals were hearing this beat as it pulsed across the territory of the undead kingdom of necrotic smog. They had always been an angry race, as this was part of their very being, and as such was in the name of their very species to leave nothing up for debate about their nature.
This new beat that spread across the land called them to action, doing something that only their maker has ever done. Which gave their rage purpose, though—a purpose they had never had before. As before, the purpose had always been war for the sake of the kingdom, either defensively or offensively. This new purpose was neither of those things; it was calling them to battle as they always had been before, though this battle was of a personal nature. Which was a new thing for their kind.
So one by one they felt the call to prove themselves to begin the journey and prove themselves worthy of being a knight. A knight was a strange thing to them, as they knew nothing about such things. They knew no code of chivalry, nor did they have any intention of riding anything. Yet at the same time they knew the meaning of it to their kind without ever being told. The power and prestige such a rank held as well as the responsibility.
So it was with that knowledge and the beat that called to them ringing in the fabric of their being that the angry undead grass elementals marched on the path of the red road forts. Battles broke out along the red road as they fought each other for the right to walk it. An angry undead grass centipede fought an angry undead grass spider, the victor going forward while the defeated halted to heal.
Each fort was a clash of wills and skill. As duel after duel was fought in the red road forts. As spider clashed against spider and centipede vs centipede as well as spider vs centipede. It would be a blood bath in another land with any other people, but for them it was not; instead, it was simply an eternal struggle to prove whose rage was truly greater.
It charged forward, its front maw coming close to its opponent's legs, nearly taking them off, but they managed to dodge just in time. It pulls its head back quickly and is already eyeing its opponent for another strike. It is an angry undead grass centipede, and its opponent is an angry grass spider. It has held the fort for a while, fighting all challengers, as is its duty after taking the red road fort.
It believes it is close now; after this last duel, it will earn its name. Though that is proving difficult, as its opponent is a quick one. It moves at him quickly, its front barbed legs poised to go through his head, but he is just a moment quicker, moving his centipede body quickly to reposition his body to the side and then extend so that he has wrapped around his opponent, bringing his maw around his opponent's back legs.
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His opponent senses the danger and jumps a moment before his maw clamps down, saving its back legs. The two now reposition within the small fort and once again eye each other for a moment before another round of strikes and dodges begins again. This battle goes on a while, the winner yet to be decided.
On the red road between forts, a new squire marches towards his next road fort, getting ever closer to earning the right to be in the grand tourney before the lord of the red razor armory. His name is Razor Leg. It is strange to have a name, he thinks to himself. As a squire, he has a right to one, but it comes with things such as gender, which confuses him slightly. Though he doesn't put much thought into it, for there are far more important things to contend with.
As he puts his thoughts towards the coming duel at the next Red Road fort. They strike at him—three praying mantises filled with both dark fey and necrotic power. They strike at him, their blade-like arms moving all at him at the same moment as if of one mind. Their teamwork amounts to nothing in the end. As razor leg is aptly named, which he demonstrates for the magical praying mantis.
As he tangled their blade arms in the barbs on his legs, twisting them around and redirecting them away from himself. The praying mantises, having lost the advantage of surprise, rely totally on their teamwork to win the day. It does not, as none of them can land a hit on Razor Leg, and soon enough they begin to fall one by one as the razors on his legs are buried inside of them.
His would-be ambushers defeated, he threw their bodies into the grass on the sides of the red road and continued on. His mind had already left them behind as he continued to think on how he would defeat the squire at the next red road fort, who was bloody and hidden. She would be a tough opponent, he thought as he walked ever closer.
As hundreds of battles broke out along the red roads and duels started and ended constantly at the road forts, the sound of battle was constant. Though there was a domain of the angry undead grass elemental that quietly thought the quiet rage of its single inhabitant was a sound in and of itself with its presence. As the mansion of Lord Red Razor Armory was quiet.
For there were no squires yet that had earned the right to participate in a tourney at his manor. Though with the constant battles, that would soon change. This was an aggravation for Red Razor Armory, as he was forced to wait and do nothing as those under him got to earn the right to stand before him. This was quietly angering to a being who was the personification of a stampede, effectively.
Though he managed to keep himself calm. Well, as calm as he could be, he was being of eternal rage. Though soon he knew his wait would be over and the joust tournament could begin. He would see who his knight would be and further prove the use of his kind to their maker. So the wait would be tolerated, though if Red Razor Armory had to wait too long, he would go down the red road himself to beat all his lesser kin for wasting his time.
