Things were going swimmingly for the Solusand Dominion in its attempt to repair the damages done to the paths that led up to the top of the mesa. The Moelman workers had done an excellent job so far, even going so far as to stop themselves from excavating that last few meters of sand and debris that prevented the Dominion from waltzing in through the back door. Although, this was not due to them not wanting to but rather due to the tactical advantage that would come from their allies assaulting both entrances/exits at the same time. As any military man would tell you, surprise is a hell of a weapon, but one that is often quickly spent.

The Desert Elves, for their part, made the occasional attempt to hinder the work of the Moelmen, but this did not have the desired effect. What little damage they could inflict before being chased out (usually with a few members wounded or even killed) were quickly repaired and the construction would then continue again regardless. Each day that came and went saw the path that spiraled up the mesa covered in more and more people and fortifications. It seemed that the Dominion already had plans for what to do with the place after they had retaken it, and further reinforcing the main entrance/exit against any assault from without further lowered the odds that their prize would be stripped from them ever again.

Vaile was still busy doing his shtick of sending birds to scout and occasionally drop high explosives, but the Sand/Desert Elves were now wise to his antics and actively targeting any bird that even remotely looked like it was carrying anything at all. But this didn’t stop Vaile in the slightest, as he had many, many other critters to call on and even if he didn’t want to use non-birds, he still had millions more feathered ‘friends’ where the fallen had come from. As a result, the bombing campaign continued relatively unabated, with the Desert Elves getting increasingly nervous whenever they were out in the open.

As for the leader of this last holdout, Melark had learned a valuable lesson from Vaile’s Bird-Bomber campaign, and had done something he never thought he would have to do and buried the objects granted to him and his people by their new god into the ground, completely preventing any of the dropped bombs from damaging them or even destroying them. This action was a desperate ploy to keep the veteran Undead warriors of the Solusand Dominion from assaulting the mesa-top fortress, but it was one that would ultimately amount to nothing as after hearing enough recon reports from the many, many critters he had sent to scour the place, Vaile had realized what Melark had done.

He had to give the bastard props; he had come to a reasonable conclusion regarding the danger to his ace in the hole and created a useful counter to that threat. But Vaile was no one-trick-pony, and had… other ways of dealing with the objects. Despite Melark’s tactical decision being useful against aerial bombardment, it was a useless defense against subterranean methods of destruction and the Moelmen were more than happy to oblige Vaile’s request so long as they got some decent grub out the deal.

And thus, without the Sand Elves being any the wiser, their protection against Zahra and her legions of undead subordinates were removed and taken a few tens of miles from the base of the mesa, all so that those objects could be destroyed far, far away from the senses of the Desert Bastards.

…

Zahra could feel it. The time of her final victory against those who had harmed her people for decades without facing any justice or judgement was at hand and there was naught left to stop her from raining down her vengeance from above. With the final barriers that kept her from flexing her power in the area now removed, there was nothing to get in the way of either herself or her undead subordinates, let alone the masses of very, very angry members of the living who wanted their pound of flesh, so to speak.

Still, she wanted the sandy assholes to feel true despair at her arrival, just as so many of her nation’s citizenry had felt when Melark and his kin had come to claim their unjust desires. Simply arriving in the day was not good enough. No, to truly drive those monstrous mongrels to the depths of fear and sorrow she had to bring the bulk of her forces to bear during the night when the sand peoples could not see nearly as well. Perhaps due to being a Raid Boss, Zahra had developed a bit of a flair for the theatric, and she would give her foes a show to die for.

Pun intended, of course.

…

Melark tried to get some much-needed sleep, but the sounds of the Dominion’s massive camp singing songs and partying into the latest hours kept him awake. He had been kept from sleep for a good day and a half, either due to the noise of construction that had essentially reached its completion point or due to the stress that came with his position and the noise made during both day and night. Now he knew that there was little hope for survival unless his God did something drastic, but he was seemingly being ignored or simply had been cast aside.

If his calculations were correct, he would have to join his kin in a battle to hold back the Solusand Dominion at the entrance to the fort that his people had stolen from them. The thought of a war of attrition against a foe whose military numbers exceeded his by at least 10 to 1 was not one that would let him sleep at ease.

As dawn broke on the 40-hour mark of his insomnia, he heard the sounds of the massed troops of the Dominion sink into silence. This was… unusual to say the least, and both intrigued and terrified the both Great and Cruel man immensely. Rising from his folding bed, he lifted the flap of his tent and walked out towards the edge of the mesa. He peered out into the growing light, only to be nearly blinded as the sun peeking over the horizon filled his eyes. He winced in pain before squinting and holding one of his hands up to help him see, but he soon wished that he hadn’t.

The final approach to the top of the mesa was filled with soldiers of the Solusand Dominion, and worst of all they were the elite of the elite, led by the infamous General Ratams himself. But that wasn’t all that was there. In between formations of undead troops were constructs made of stone and metal, and in front of all of those was a figure that Melark could never forget. Said figure was the Pharaoh herself, Zahra I, standing proud atop the head of a massive black and purple serpent whose body wrapped around parts of the mesa and towered over even the largest of the standing ruins in the occupied fort. Melark knew what this meant, but he refused to believe it, and was held in the grips of terror until the voice of Zahra I echoed throughout the area.

“Rejoice, villainous scum, for I shall grant you my mercy. You have but three hours to deliver unto me the leaders of your marauding band, and should you refuse then my mercy shall be spent and I shall bring justice for the fallen by the form of fire and sword. I advise that you take my offer of clemency, as there exists naught but immeasurable suffering for those that deny my most benevolent gift. Make your choice, and make it soon, for the sands in the hourglass have started to fall, and if you resist then so too shall you.”