Maxwell felt the energy building into his black smog and then into him. The tension somehow building in his little isolated dome of black smog before a blue screen appeared to show him what his focus on research had unlocked for him. Proving once again that research is an important facet in any society, even one made up of one undead skull construct.
Maxwell stared at the screen, shocked at seeing his research have netted him so much so early, then gazed in wonder as his small territory shifted around him. The dead leaves began to stand back up, now sporting a black color, and he watched a few smog grass spiders and smog grass centipedes form and began patrolling his small territory.
For a while he ignored the hovering blue scroll that waited his decision on whether to activate the grow the lawn policy or not and simply took in his kingdom that now had its first citizens. There was too much for them to do, but Maxwell got to daydream for a while as he watched his smog-grass elementals wonder his domain.
But eventually duty called, and he looked back to the blue scroll and the decision to activate his first policy, thinking on it for a while. It would bring trouble to him, but he was already in trouble as an undead in nature and fairy territory. Not to mention he had a divine mission to expand his domain by the god of all monsters, Phabium, so he activated the policy Grow Your Lawn.
He could already feel through his connection to his smog and his new connection to his smog grassland that it would be a while before the policy made any significant gains, so it was best to set and wait for the moment, so Maxwell did. So Maxwell simply enjoyed watching his new undead elementals as they went about wandering his small territory, sometimes making shapes out of the smog that surrounded him.
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Meanwhile, to the south of the skull fortress and its growing kingdom of undead grass elementals was a village made up of grass huts made by grass bundles being wound together. Inside the biggest grass hut was a bunch of unhappy grasspixie elders that were making their opinions quite clear about their new neighbors.
"We must march on the fortress at once!" Gressel, leader of the hunters for the grass fairs, declared to the two other fairs at the same table. The one sitting directly across from him shot back her rebetal.
"Oh yes, go and charge a fortress of the dead. Might I ask who's going such as you and what army?" The Grekal leader of the grass fairy farmers screamed with heat, pointing out their lack of a standing army to perform his assault on the new undead lands they found suddenly appearing in their lands. The two glared daggers at each other before turning to the third grass fairy sitting at their round table.
He was the eldest of the grass pixies, being a hundred years old, and was needed to use his wisdom to guide the divided grass pixie folk in their moment of internal strife as the sides of hunter and farmer argued their points while the undead threat gathered power to their north.
The old wise fairy was silent, not leading his younger colleagues eagerness for a descive answer to him into an answer, especially not with the continued existence of his people on the line. He sat there, not moving for a long while, not moving a single muscle, not giving any sign he was still alive.
The tension built between the two leaders of the farmers and the hunters as they waited on the eldest elder to make his decision known. Then he opened his eyes and spoke. "We have no true information to act on; we must act to get the information we need—quite the condrum indeed." The elder said to himself, causing the two others to look at him in confusion at what exactly he meant by that.
"Greece, have five of your greatest hunters act as scouts to see what's truly going on in the clouded dead lands to the north of us while the rest of your hunters patrol our northern border." The elder said to Gressel, then turned to Grekal. "Grekal, we may need warriors to face what is to come, but you are right in that our hunters are not enough and that farmers are not warriors. So gather what spare grass fairy dust we have built up and see what mercenaries we can hire if the need for them arises." The elder of the grass pixies said to Grekal.
He then looked at both of them for a moment, giving them a hard look into their eyes, making them both feel as if their very souls were being judged. "Now go do your task and do them quickly; the fate of our people rests on your success." The eldest elder said to the both of them, to which the two swiftly nodded, not being able to find fault in his logic and quickly seeing out to their task.
The grasspixies were a race of two-inch-tall fairies that looked after the small open spaces between the trees where grass grew freely. They had no wings and were considered a lower class of pixies. They had light green skin with dark green hair as well as emerald eyes. They are also known to be grass skirts and shirts.
They have a natural affinity for nature magic, specifically towards grass; it allowed them to keep it healthy easily as well as alter it for specific uses. They could use their magic to alter the grass into becoming sharper, sturdier, or, in rarer instances, more magical. The magical grass they raised turned into a special pixie dust called grass pixie dust. Which they use to trade with other pixie clans as well as other magical creatures of the forest.
The grass pixies spent most of their time looking after their grass fields and hunting the bugs that threatened their fields. Now though they found that normal upended as their northern borders were encroached by an undead skull that seemed to be shifting into a dragon of smog. None were quite sure what to make of this new event except for one thing, which was that their peaceful times were over as the elders spoke about the possible battles with whatever was waiting for them in the black smog to the north.