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Outside the tent, and in the encampment beyond, the demons ripped through the ranks of the Clansmen. Steel hacked through tainted hide, but nothing seemed to be able to halt the hellish assault. Tooth and claw tore the petrified warriors to bloody tatters,whilst greater and greater numbers of the flickering savages came pouring out of the night, leaping upon their hapless prey with joyous bloodlust. 

The laughter of the feral monsters chilled the hearts of even the bravest soldiers, as the skulking husks wove beneath the clumsy strikes of the clansmen, cackling and giggling in twisted voices that were neither animal nor human in tone, but rasped and crackled with each warped hiss. 

Few beings were able to keep a cool head in the face of the nether spawn, and fewer still had the pragmatic mindset required to turn the situation to their advantage. Fortunately, the Over-Tyrant was quite the tactician. 

Whilst she was supreme ruler in name, the tribes of Mourslev still held allegiance to their chieftains above all else. The Trade Queen had been devising several different plans to kill off her second-in-commands, and truly assert her dominance, but it had been a slow and intricate process, with only a few of the lower-ranking leaders meeting their end under suspicious circumstances. 

Now the barbarians were at the gates, and she had all she needed to send those which shackled her screaming into oblivion. 

“We must act quickly, or risk meeting out end!” Khalaevna heaved herself up off of the floor. She had no time for armour, but her magic-bathed blade was within reach. Zalewylch was almost weightless in her hand as she scooped it up; a gleaming metal saber with a crossguard riddled with ancient runes, and a fine steel blade which was honed to perfection. 

Just then, the tent flaps were torn open, and a thrashing mass of warped pink spikes and stretched flesh came screeching into view. A nest of whipping tentacles snapped at the air, and five cavernous mouths barked and growled like some crazed hellhound. The void-like black orbs which served as its eyes fixed on Khalaevna, and a set of slobbering tongues lashed out of its mouths with unconcealed greed. 

The demon stormed right past the chieftains, leaping over them as they gazed on in horror. It had found a feast in Khalaevna, and a plentiful one at that. 

It's five mouths snapped and snarled as the ravenous beast came charging towards her, certain that it had found an easy meal. Whilst Khalaevna was large and slow, she was by no means weak, and the magic blade in her hand only added to her might. 

Just as the creature came shrieking down upon her, the Over-Tyrant slashed upwards with Zalewylch, its gleaming blade singing through the air and cleaving through the demon’s monstrous flesh. 

The creature screeched and stumbled backwards, grasping at the new slit in its muscular mess of a body. The skin around the wound seem to retreat backwards, taking on the complexion of broken glass, as the demon’s bridge to this world began to crumble. By the time the demon should’ve struck the floor, it's twisted form was gone completely; returned to the realm which had birthed it. 

“My queen...I am sorry,” Aureus spluttered in disbelief “I was too slow to react, I-” 

“You’re right, Icelake!” Khalaevna snarled “The beast was inches from taking my life. If it weren't for my own intuition, we’d all be dead.” 

 “Apologies, your grace.” Gorah Darktounge bowed her head solemnly. 

“Redeem yourself,” she snapped “Get out there and prove your worth.” 

The chieftains rushed quickly out of the tent to join the fight, leaving the Over-Tyrant to plot her next move.