Elsewhere in the sandy wastes another rider was spurring her camel through the dunes. Unlike Alustriea who seemed to have no luck, Osilliaice sat in a wide tent drinking deeply of a wine skin and munching on some sort of dried meat that she suspected was camel having seen no animals short of the contrary, humped beasts. Unlike her elven friend the lizardess awoke near one of the camps of the nomad and had been brought in for much the same reason the trio had for the elf only not just oppressing her captors Osilliaice was now 'chief' of this bunch after she kicked in the head of the prior leader.
While she couldn't understand a word by these rough camel riders, the various slaves they had brought in eventually found one that spoke a smattering of draconic. The lizardess had quickly established her rule shaping up these smelly humans that seemed to eat camels and make a fermented alcohol from the beasts piss.
A few hours later she was leading them on a raid of a nearby outpost. She had always thrown herself into these situations. Being the lead huntress, an elven commander and now a camel bandit. She shook her head and looked into the distance pointing with her spear, her forces hooting and hollering as they charged the oasis on camel back, rushing in to secure supplies and free slaves.
The freeing of the slaves was not Osilliaice trying to be good and noble, rather she understood her own troops were in short supply and vastly undisciplined. The bandit soldiers really were just a group of brigands that barely understood battle plans that didntequate to rush in and stab people. Thus she needed reliable troops. While she worried for her mate and Alustriea there was no sense rushing south on her own. The port was suppose to be the capital of the force assaulting the kingdom they had left behind, Xing Lei would need forces of his own to secure the port thus Osilliaice built him a rag tag army.
Between raids and training a week had past and she wondered about her elven friend, by all reports the tyrant of the sands was taking action to quell her growing slave revolt but no word had come about an elven wanderer. One of the outposts though had lost some of their men to a sand worm which intrigued her, the beast sounded like something her mate would hunt. Her advisors quickly suggested not trying, the beasts kept to a fringe area of the desert and should not be disturbed, only the feeble walked that path at the end of their glory road to finish their life with a grand battle.
Still the lizardess was working her way south at her own pace, former slaves now controlled most of the oasis' here several days north of the port and were steadily expanding east and north to cut off the supply lines of the distant army in the neighbouring kingdom, the bandits would eventually return to routes camps and outposts filled with the freed slaves they had conscripted. Osilliaice was rather proud of accomplishing this, while journeying with her mate was great, she missed guiding others into battle. Xing Lei hardly needed a commander so she had played the part of the dutiful mate but now she was rather glad to once again guide a fighting force to achieve... well... anything really.
Draining the wine skin she lounged in her private tent letting her mind wander to their future destination. Greater challenges her mate had claimed, and in truth she was becoming more and more eager for it. With her body tempering in the advanced stage she didn't even bother wearing her armor these days, wading into combat in a loose robe that did nothing to turn aside the blades of the brigands. But why would it need to when their edge found no home through her scales?
In truth even this insurrection she was mustering was boring her now, she could no longer Sally forth to fight as none could even bruise her. There was no real risk and she could well understand now why her mate wanted more, for this... this was sapping her mind. Her keen edge in battle was being dulled by opponents that truly didn't deserve the name. When she got involved it became a slaughter, a one sided butchering of what should have been a thrilling fight.
Sighing she lazed back on the cushions feeling a little helpless, like a youngling floundering about what they should do. Unlike a youngling that couldn't even speak proper, she had tons of tasks but none were difficult. Even training her troops held little joy for her as it meant even more bodies would be between her and any challenging foe, yet she couldn't help but try to keep them alive for Xing Lei's sake.
Crossing an arm across her eyes she laid back and sighed, the boredom and depression of being too strong to enjoy hunting strong prey almost made her miss the sound of cloth tearing. A yellow eye opening a mere slit to watch a curved blade slicing the back of the tent. A man in black robes, with an off white faceless mask slithering through the opening with nary a sound, had the cloth not torn rather than cut she'd never had heard him get close.
Her heart started pumping, was a foe worthy of her strength finally making a move? Feigning slumber her slightly opened eye lost track of the would be assassin for a moment, almost raising up to look around when the blade appeared much closer and jabbed down towards her scaled chest, the wicked point coated in what looked like it may have been poison however, did not penetrate. Striking again quickly, the lizardess just laid there waiting to see if this fellow would even scratch her scales.
True to her expectations a quick second strike jabbed at one of her joints, while she was rather glad that the blade didn't cut her hide, she was as well, disappointed. This killer had no more chance against her than any of the other soldiers. Shifting her gaze to the killer who was backpedaling she stretched and leveled her disappointed gaze upon the assassin. She had always wondered why her mate treated foes with such disinterested disregard, only now experiencing the lack of threat to her person was she grasping why he never truly took people seriously.
Turning her attention back to the would be killer she caught sight of him jumping back through the tear in the back of her tent. Wasting little time she grabbed her spear and gave chase, tearing the back of the tent open as she rushed after the failed killer, her voice lifting in alarm to be sure her guards were doing their job, but considering how far the man had gotten into their camp at least one or more was dead, or was incapacitated.
Glancing around the oasis seemed quiet enough... but in that she recognized the problem. It was eerily quiet. Not even the beasts these desert dwellers favored were making not a whisper. If the situation was as she believed Osilliaice turned and jumped back into the torn tent, grabbing her armor and her stowed travel bag. It seems the tyrant had finally taken note of her war effort, with the camp as quiet as a grave she looked to the entry flap, what lay out the front path would most likely reveal how complete the camp had been taken. Any other commander would have charged out that way rather than blindly chasing their attacker as she had.
Gripping her spear she reached out to push the flap wide stepping out confidently into the camp proper. As she had surmised, each way she looked the various troops she had freed were face down to the ground, a second smile from ear to ear on most spilling their life blood across the struggling grasses of the oasis. Like the one that had tried stabbing her, half a dozen other dark robed killers turned to regard her, each clutched a pair of daggers and wore a featureless mask. While this covering was just a blank slate she could see a barely visible sigil on each face plate, the light of the moon making the symbol lightly shine against the stark white matte finished face masks.
Setting her stance she looked over the gang of killers, shifting her head to see just how many had invaded the camp, was anyone else alive? Sighing she almost missed the glimmer of a weapon cutting in from the side, her body bending backwards with surprising agility and balance as the darkly painted blade slashed where her neck formerly was. While the dangers looked normal, something about this blade screamed at her to not let it hit her. Maybe it was her warriors sixth sense, or maybe it was how the shadows of the night seemed to trail in the wake of the weapon screaming that it was in no way ordinary.
Like the blade its weilder shifted half in darkness, draped in clothes much like the killer's surrounding them the only difference was the mask. Each of theirs was a flat white mask with a silvery symbol hidden on the front. Their leader wore a blood red mask that had black runes crawling from the eye slit like a pair of mystic tear stains. However, same as its troops, this lead figure was silent. No breathing, no quips or insults, just silent attacks. The whistle of the blade slashing briskly back and forth forcing the lizardess to dodge and weave under the assault, now and then parrying with her spear and striking back, though her foe seemed to shrug off blows that Osilliaice herself would have trouble accepting as easy.
Continually pressed, the lizardess fought desperately, trying to keep alert of the subordinates wondering why the faceless killers had not attacked enmasse? While she couldn't deny that this assassin was keeping her on her claws the fight would have been all but over had those dagger holders tied her up as well. While the daggers they held seemed ordinary compared to the leaders curved blade, they could have easily blocked her movements giving the leader ample time to strike a decisive blow.
Pressing back she swept her Spear outwards, driving the red mask back a bit as she herself jumped back to better gauge the surroundings. Like statues the the white faced killers encircled her, unmoving, unresponsive. They just seemed to watch as she traded blows with their leader, some unspoken rule keeping them back from assisting. Still, Osilliaice was sure had she turned to push the encirclement, the white faced killers would swarm her. Debating that very point in her mind she blocked another hard swing, the shadowy saber biting into the haft of her spear rather alarmingly.
Pushing the red face back again, her grip shifted on the spear pressing her opponent to gain back her advantage, lashing out in a flurry of pokes to drive the killer back on its heels. Yet as soon as she achieved some breathing room, the tenacious foe was right back in her face, showing a complete disregard for her strength. Likewise any successful strikes seemed to be stopped by armor beneath the cloth, to Osilliaice they felt like goid hits yet the red masked killer showed no wounds, no blood flowed from the holes poked around the figures chest or limbs. If not for the variety of moves she would swear she was fighting some sort of golem, no golem could react and adapt as her foe had thus far.
Distracted by her thoughts she felt a sharp strike behind her knee, her head turning as she watched the original killer moving up beside the red faced one after tripping her. The sheer shock of the duel being changed up had lost the lizardess the grip on her spear. Looking up from the ground the two killers were poised above her ready to strike. Regret filled Osilliaice's mind as the shadowy blade rose and fell with deadly agility... but the strike she expected never fell. Again shocked she looked up to see the killers both in the process of tottering on powerless legs, a veritable array of ice lances pierced their bodies before they fell to the side carried by the momentum of the strikes.
Turning her head a slender woman trotted into camp on camel back, her spells lashing out at the group of white face killers. With the fall of the two 'leaders' the rest seemed to scatter like roaches, a shrill inhuman cry filling the air as Alustriea guided her mount to stand protectively over her fallen friend. Smiling to each other, no words were exchanged before a strange sound drew both their attentions. Glancing to the fallen leaders the masks had become dislodged on both, the red and white masks falling off desiccated faces.
Osilliaice gaped and Alustriea cringed as sharp legs wriggled around the edge of either 'mask' as the two pill bug like creatures righted themselves and scurried off, burrowing into the loose sand at the edge of the oasis. Glancing from the bodies to Osilliaice, Alustriea swallowed softly, "Just what in the nine hells were those?"
Picking herself off the ground Osilliaice shook her head, the fact the red faced leader didn't bleed was obvious now, it wasn't armor but the fact those bug like masks were using dead bodies like puppets, there was no blood in them to shed! Glancing around the deathly silent camp, the lizardess truly wondered what those things were, were they something of the desert... or were they under the control of the tyrant? Both equally disturbing thoughts...