Somewhere in the fungus-dark, a grot watched a knight and understood only the important parts: a lance, a helmet, and hitting things faster than they can hit back. The Boingrot Bounderz are the result. Mounted on squigs whose legs store the kick of a catapult, they advance in great soaring bounds — over walls, over ditches, over the heads of their own infantry.
The impact is the whole art. A Bounder charge lands lance-first with the full weight of squig and rider behind it, followed instantly by the squig's own opinion, which is teeth. The Bounderz fancy themselves the flower of gittish chivalry and hold crude tourneys to prove it; everyone they have ever hit remembers only a cackling hail of iron and jaws.
Order of battle
