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Most of the travelers were quick to agree to Tisa’s terms, some impatiently so. Only one of the strangers had the nerve to even question the delegate. Hazel imagined the shakiness in the young woman’s voice was caused by the rattling of her spine. Of course the person plastered with protective pieces of paper that were likely meant to be some kind of ward would be the one to bring voice to caution. Hazel gave her a soft smile accompanied by a look that balanced between sympathetic and pitying. Even if Tisa had given the girl a satisfying answer and a promising word it wasn’t like any of them would know if it had been wise to trust them until the moment for betrayal had passed. In a way, it would be much like the girl’s talismans—good for the ease of mind, but ultimately nothing more than a false comfort. Hazel found it funny how quick the woman was to rush to calling for the teleportation ritual after even a single voice had questioned their intent. A good omen, surely.

However, the ritual was never completed. Hazel drew in her breath and held it as a screaming person harmonized with the howl of the wind. She did not blink as she saw the body slump against the tent, nor did she avert her eyes as the tent was torn open and sand kicked around as the Bone Clans assaulted their gathering. Hazel watched, her eyes stinging, as a spear was shoved through Tisa’s gut, her only reaction being the slightest raise of an eyebrow. Hazel had thought an Exusian mage would be harder to take down. Turns out, they fell just like everyone else. She didn’t even have time to think about healing the emissary before a robed assailant slit Tisa’s throat. Well, at least their wouldbe killers were merciful. She’d never seen an Ember Maker make it quick.

Hazel stepped back towards the middle of the tent, hand on her sword but blade undrawn.  She was a master swordswoman when it came to slaying untrained fieldhands and frail old medicine women, but against actual warriors it was basically a decoration anyway. She watched as Artur began issuing commands, thankful that someone was there to rally them. It gave her a second to observe as the others sprung into action.Hazel glanced over to see one of the clansmen try to take out the Golem. She couldn’t help but snort and shake her head as the stupid idiot got what was coming for him. The short man called forth some kind of mechanical monster to come to his aid, shredding apart the clansman that had attacked its master. It only spurred the fury of more clansmen. The questioning girl raised her crosswbow while another saw to hide, crawling out from under the tent and likely being eviscerated by the enemies outside—a karmic end for fleeing like a coward. 

If Hazel had the option she would’ve continued to be an outside observer to all of the carnage and bloodshed, but the warriors of the Bone Clans didn’t respect her wishes. She sighed and rolled her eyes as she drew her sword and dagger as a clasnman rushed her. There wasn’t enough time to pull out her book and even if there was it would be a bad idea. At best casting a spell would make her a priority target for the raiders; at worst it would turn the whole tent against her, or at least what was left of it. The clansman lifted his axe, howling with the wind as he brought it down to split Hazel’s skull with a powerful blow that she caught with the crossguard of her sword and dagger. 

Hazel locked the weapon in place as the clansman continued to wail at her, his spittle wetting her face. The axe slid and cut her hand but it did not break free from her guard. Hazel bit her lip as the larger man struggled with her. She backed up as he pushed and pulled against her, and didn’t even blink as one hand let go of the axe to wrap around her neck. She dove her chin down into the hand, a fruitless effort to stop the man from strangling her, and glared up at him as she choked. Her eyes watered as they met his murderous gaze.  She grinned. The man was probably strong enough to snap a neck in half if given the opportunity. He didn’t get the chance.

With a surge of strength Hazel kept the axe held back with just her sword as her dagger hand freed itself from the guard. In a flash the blade bit through the inner wrist of the outstretched arm and sliced towards the elbow, cutting open the man like a letter. His howls shifted their tune ever so slightly as his grip around her throat fell. She stepped forward and flicked the dagger up, silencing the sound forever as the point of the blade pushed up under his chin and deep into his skull. Hazel twisted and put her shoulder into the heavy man to keep him propped up as he began to go limp and left her dagger in him to free up her hand so that she could keep his own from falling away from the axe. 

Hazel grunted as she continued to tango with the dead dance partner, hoping that the illusion of her still being engaged in battle would give her a quick respite from any other raiders. Hazel turned her attention to the others as the blood dripped down the hilt of her dagger and splattered on the side of her cheek to sense the tide of the battle. Public spells were for desperate situations only, and so far the losses had been anywhere in the range of acceptable to cathartic. There was value in a culling every now and then. Were any more of their would-be adventuring party dead yet, or had the Queen been blessed with a better stock than her own?