With the oasis at their backs, a large square of humanoids began a trek south towards the deep wastes of the desert. Dark skinned humans, bound wrist and neck were herded like cattle amongst serpent headed beings. On the left a dozen women were being led by the largest of the snake men, his trusted aides guarding their fair prizes. On the right, some score men were pushed along. The serpent speaker paid little mind to how his own troops took their frustrations out upon these that would end up being sent to labor camps. Well, except for one.
Alexander was right behind the speaker, similarly bound wrist and neck but none of the disgruntled rattlers accosted this pale slave. The closer guards even gave the strange man a wide berth. The slaves skeletal hand unnerved them as much as it intrigued the speaker. For the bound slaves that pale figure was an ill omen, while they had listened to the man to surrender, many were rethinking that choice. Feeling the heat beating down on their bodies, the sand grinding their feet in their boots and the dry ache of thirst in their throats, would it have been such a bad thing to resist capture?
Where cares that they had been surrounded and out numbered? They had blades! They should have fought! Yet the words of that ghost made them choose poorly, had he just shut up and not been a coward they could have fought out of the encirclement! Thus it was as the lingering heat drowned them in sweat those eyes stared at the pale man's back with growing dissatisfaction and hatred. For Alexander, he could feel those eyes boring into his back, he could hear the raspy whispers of the roust abouts assuring each other at the next chance they'd fix him up proper.
He could only shake his head and sigh to himself.
Alexander knew these sorts quite well. Before his ascent to dungeon master his father was a merchant and employed both the bully boys that was the main stay of this group. Thugs and heavy lifters who got through their lives riding the prestige of their boss, the merchant. They were wash outs of the militia, failed guards and strong arms but were handy to have to discourage bandits and wildlife. A smaller group were low tier adventurers, much like the caravan guards, they were glorified gophers with weapons, it'd be a shock if one in three of them had even slain a man before. Only a handful would have been reliable in such a battle. The high grade mercenaries like the brothers and Melissa could certainly hold their own but while dealing with the rest? No, as the saying goes the only thing worse than a strong foe is a weak teammate.
What the grumbles overlooked was that the serpent men, were to a one, soldiers. While the big cobra was relaxed and the speaker dictated terms, he had been watching the rattlers. Much like the snakes they resembled had they had tails the air would have been a chaotic storm of noise. While their humanoid bodies had stayed perfectly still Alexander could see imaginary rattling tails shaking wildly. These men had forgotten their place by viewing their inhuman foes as lesser. Rather the serpentine soldiers were just that, soldiers. Trained to kill, to fight, to suppress their nations enemy. To capture these fools after a sufficient beating.
No, better they save their strength. As the hours ticked on it became more and more apparent the serpents were well use to this sort of raid. With no breaks, no food, no water, they were slowly breaking the captives resistance. The more they wasted time on thinking petty revenge or bemoaning their fate the more tired they would feel physically and mentally. That is what the serpents were counting on he guessed. Any time now... Alexander's thoughts were broken as the length of rope around his neck tightened, behind in the line, one of the caravan guards that had been beaten had fallen. This naturally dragged the rest of the line into his collapse.
Grimacing, fighting against the urge to try and loosen the binding he backed up a bit to ease the pull. Others were thrashing about making their own situations worse as the serpents were quick to respond. As expected rather than coddling the fallen slaves, those that fell around the already beaten man were similarly beaten and forced back up. The speaker observed Alexander's actions with narrowed eyes, smart slaves were valuable, but too smart ones were a risk. Thus it kept an eye on the prize of this catch while hissing orders. It was sufficient to say while this was a singular group of soldiers there was a bet or prestige on the line, by falling behind the big cobra these slaves would make him look bad. Thus the beatings.
Once they were lifted again the trek continued, the speaker of course pushed his team harder to catch up with the leaders group. Around noon both groups stopped to water the men and women. Unsurprising was when the order to walk came again there were already those past their limits. Typically these people wouldn't be so weak but the capture and forced march across the desert was something few were prepared to face, it only stood to reason that the weakest of the groups would be dead on their feet after walking hours through the unrelenting heat. Only thing was how the two that could not rise promptly were treated. On the female side the passed out woman was slung over a rattlers shoulder like a sack of grain... the male was not so valued. The man who refused to rise promptly had his throat slit, not even having the smallest chance to resist his fate. The rest were quick to fall in line when they saw their fellow bleeding out on the sand.
Alexander only shook his head at the sight, it stood to reason the females would be carried if need be, even if beauty wise the females of the serpent race were different, female slaves could be traded anywhere regardless of race. Male slaves were great for labor but why waste resources on the weak or sickly? If any of the male slaves could not continue, their carcass would serve to keep the local predators away from the groups. Given no further thought the slaves were bound again and trudged onwards. The merciless sun beat upon their backs as the serpents forced them further south. This forced march continued until the sun was dipping low, only when the sky began to darken did the slaves get rounded up to be allowed food, water and rest.
So it continued from the first day into the next and the day after. Before most knew it a week had passed, but few could be blamed for not keeping track of the time. Two more of the males had been left to bleed upon the sands this day and two more of the women were being carried, one of which Alexander recognized as Laytalya. It did not surprise him that his companion had failed to rise on the seventh day, considering her lax nature it was more surprising for him that she lasted this long, but she was a warrior, or so she claimed, still Alexander hadn't put full faith in it, she had struck him more as an idealistic villager who ran away from home with a weapon than someone who had trained for this sort of lifestyle.
To be honest Alexander was not feeling much better himself. While the Path of Death and his necromantic leanings had given his constitution a boost he had to admit the week of marching across the sands was quickly sapping him of strength. He could hardly fault Laytalya when his own early life was remarkably soft himself. Still, as he rubbed the week of thick stubble on his jaw, he wondered how much further they would have to walk? Surely they weren't lost right? The leader and speaker did not talk much but both seemed to know where they were heading but they didn't seem to follow any map or trail amongst the dunes. If he were to falter would his projected worth as an oddity spare him the fate of the ones before? Unlikely. Odd he may appear to them but a slave that couldn't obey would be worthless.
Alexander eyed the females and chuckled mirthlessly. He had spotted Melissa sneakily healing her fellows amongst the gathered, likely she only had the energy to ensure the some dozen women else he'd ask for a top up himself. Still even with her aid the weak were being separated from the strong, the relentless march and lack of mounts or wagons was likely to do exactly this, sort the prized stock from the chaff. Closing his eyes he felt his energy spread out, under the sand he could feel reinforcements present. He would need only call forth and he'd have some troops, but he didn't wish to reveal his abilities yet, better to save that ace for escaping his captors... he just had to hope it would be at their destination and not with a rattler holding a blade to his throat.
Much as it had been, the rest was barely long enough to let their weary bodies recover some strength before they were marched on. Looking into the hazy distance, Alexander could make out something, it reminded him of the great pyramids of his old life, yet the indistinct blur of its shape and size dwarfed the wonders he had known. It was only when they crested a dune that Alexander took in what he was seeing. It was a pyramid, but unlike the great pyramids if earth this monstrosity was not made of stone blocks, rather it was as if someone had created a mold upon a deep desert valley and poured liquid gold into it. The pyramid had no visible pieces, just a smooth face that shone blindingly under the sun. The monstrously large pyramid sparkled under the light but even more important was the 'city' that had grown around it.
Where the pyramid looked like a single construction cast from an emense mold, the city around its base was somewhat more normal. Sandstone structures dwarfed only by the pyramid were laid out before it. From the distance it looked as if a great number of people dwelled here, but Alexander could well guess much of those he saw moving through the streets like ants were slaves like they were destined to be. Still, their caravan was pushed forward, the leader and speaker both eager to show off their spoils. The closer they got to the city, the more Alexander realized just how tall the gold pyramid was and how the tiny buildings were in fact more like mini pyramids, each an impressive six or seven stories tall in their own right.
Marched through the streets he noted his early assumption was right. While there was a wide variety of rattlers stationed every so often, the vast majority of those moving around were workers in slave collars. Casting his gaze to a near by building Alexander spotted his first female serpent person, or more accurately a lamia. The woman declined on a balcony, a bench thick with silks and cushions supported her silk clad upper human body while a thick, dark snake tail was coiled up where legs should be. Female slaves and a couple of feminine looking men waited on her, the former held fruits and wine for their mistress to consume while the latter fanned her.
His second exposure was when a lithe lamia, burst through the slaves around her like a coiled spring. The surface to snake man missile crashed into the speaker, wrapping her arms around his neck while her tail coiled tightly around the speakers body pinning him in place. The guards he lead gave hissing laughter as the leader glanced back darkly and gave a hiss like snarl and pull his troop forward. It would seem the great leader either lacked such an enthusiastic pairing or his own wife was more reserved, might explain why the leader had been so on hand with the guardswoman Viv. All this Alexander filed away just in case it proved useful later...