Melark looked down from his high perch atop the mesa, scowling as he watched the servants of the most destructive of beings mill about as if they had some way of getting up to his position without incurring extreme loss of life. Once his people had established the ruined fortress up where they were as their last holdout, they had made perfectly sure to eliminate any and all means of scaling the mesa. The ‘hidden’ tunnel route that led directly into the fort itself was sealed with sand and rubble, while the path that wound up the cliff face like a massive corkscrew had been rendered unusable unless the bridges, tunnels and more open paths were rebuilt, repaired, and remade.

And, while the sounds of construction that came from down near the base of the massive rock did alarm him, he figured that it would take the living servants at least a few years before they could reach the midway point. He had left the entire path up in such a terrible shape that heavy equipment would be needed to haul away the collapsed rooves, remake the long bridges and reinforce all the areas that he and his people had intentionally rendered structurally weak. What little work that was being done was surely not nearly enough to make any major progress. After all, his people could see far from their current residence, and they had not seen the arrival of heavy equipment. If they wanted to get such things to the work-site, they would need to do so under the cover of night or bring it all in piece by piece.

Plus, the evil Dominion could not rely on undead or enchanted devices to make their job easier; the gifts from the true God saw to that. Still a bit miffed about the whole situation he found himself in, Melark retired for the night and reminded himself that he and his could afford to play the waiting game while those down at the bottom could not. The desert was a harsh place, and those Dominion bastards were not suited for long-term exposure to it. Even if the damned Pharaoh was pushing back the sands, he figured that he had at least a half decade to wait until any meaningful progress was done by his foes.

…

“Yu’z gotz dah gudz, mah mayn mahn?”

The whole group of diminutive construction workers had gathered around Vaile and were practically begging for his to bless them with booze and snacks.

“For every one of you who has pulled your weight, I grant you these!” Vaile said in a showy fashion as he pulled a large but thin piece of cloth off of a wooden frame that was filled with cans of Generic Beer and bags of Topato Chips.

All at once, the little creatures raised their hands into the air and shouted as one in their unique dialect before rushing to have their fill.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!”

Vaile watched as the little critters drank and ate until they were too full to move before passing out in a heap while wondering to himself how the hell they were going to recover and get back to work the next day.

…

“OY!”

A general of the Solusand Dominion was walking through the construction site as he heard the shout of one of the strange creatures from behind.

“OY! Lisin up, gai! I’m fokin takkin tu ya, mo-rahn!”

Stopping in his tracks at the insult, the general turned around and saw the critter offering him a metallic helmet like the one it was wearing.

“Ya dohn jus naht ware a saffee elmet en a woik-sait, ya ijit! Puh eht ahn fore summin kells ya!”

“I am not wearing a piece of trash like-!”

“TEMBAH!”

The sound of one of the creatures yelling caught the general’s attention and he barely moved out of the way in time as a bit of rock fell from the ceiling and almost hit him in the head.

“Datz wai wez ware deez tings! Wudda ben able tah jus taik eht ifn ya wore diz, ya’no?!”

The general was smart enough to realize there was truth in the creature’s words, and he wisely accepted the helmet.

“Gud! Nah eidah git ouda dah wae er go bak waer ya cayme frum! Wez doin sum hahd woik heer and wez don need ya makin uz hav tah triple chek erry-ting!”

…

Melark was not having a good day. As his scouts had put it; somehow, the Dominion was rebuilding everything at an alarming pace. While only able to operate at night, taking care while slowly rappelling down the cliff face, those who were tasked with monitoring the work of the Dominion only had bad things to say. It was only the fifth day after the construction began, but the lower third of the corkscrew path was nearly finished being remade. Worse still, the repairs were to such a degree that they may have well have been improvements to the original! Something had to be done, and Melark knew exactly what he had to have happen.

…

“Fokin fokidy fokin fok fok!!” the Moelman Foreman yelled as he looked over the sabotage that had taken place last night while he and his people had been partying.

“It certainly looks like you need some security personnel…” Vaile remarked.

“Dam fokin strayt wez fokin du! Lemme maik sum cahlz an Ahl be rait bak, ya dig?”

…

Melark’s saboteurs slowly crept into the construction site, ready to take hammers to anything and everything they could.

“Oy! Num nahtz! Tink fazt!”

One of the saboteurs turned to face the sound, only to have a pickaxe lodge itself in her face, killing her nearly instantly. As the saboteurs began to take fighting stances, the ground around them popped as Moelmen wearing much heavier construction gear and wielding weaponized shovels, mallets, pickaxes and other construction tools came from underground and began to fight their foes.

While there were only a few Mighty Moelmen, they were not alone, as a saboteur found out the hard way when a Dominion arrow suddenly seemed to appear in his neck. Light soon filled the makeshift battleground as lanterns whose lights were focused by many mirrors blinded the Sand Elves and exposed them for the Construction Helmet-wearing Dominion Archers to take potshots at. Of the 20 or so Desert Elves that made the most recent sabotage attempt, only 2 made it back to the top of the mesa and only after taking no small amount of damage before then.