Khalaevna liked little less than being ordered about, and it took great strength to not lash out at the Northerner. Her soldiers may have been fierce in their devotion to Mortaroth, but the Over-Tyrant had no god other than herself. [i] What difference does it make who I claim to worship? [/i] she reasoned internally. [i] So long as I keep on ruling [/i].

The Over-Tyrant bent down, her knees popping beneath her massive weight, and grabbed hold of the staff which bore the head of Aureus Icelake. 

“I pledge my allegiance to the Old Ones; the true masters of the North.” She declared firmly “Their enemies are my enemies, and I shall be the vessel of their furious retribution.” 

No sooner had the Over-Tyrant finished speaking, then the world seemed to twist and darken around her. She took one cumbersome step forwards, and then her enormous body gave way, and she was sent tumbling to the ground. All the while she could feel something...changing inside her. A current of dark majesty crashed through her veins, burning beneath her skin, as she could feel herself being morphed from the inside out. 

Her head struck the floor, and the world went black. 

[hr]

When Khalaevna reawoke, the world had changed around her. 

Her eyes fluttered open, and the sights which greeted her pushed and bent her mind to the farthest reaches of believability  

Stretching out before her, was a tide of tooth and claw and horns and hooves. Where once there had been Northmen, there was now a sprawling horde of twisted creatures, covered from the waist down with coarse brown fur, walking upon cloven hooves the colour of obsidian. Their bodies were rippling with muscle, and swirling ivory horns exploded from either side of their head. Their teeth were sharp and jagged, jutting out beneath eyes which hissed and crackled with demonic fire. They still bore the armour and weapons which they had as men -swords and axes - dull armour and leather gauntlets, but their transformation into beasts had been complete and absolute. 

Other monstrosities joined their ranks;

A mammoth, bestial creature which stood upon legs like tree trunks, and bore two, warped heads. A great leathery fiend which looked as though it were made of exposed muscle, with huge bat-like wings, and claws which looked to be crafted of pale bone. And a stooped pink-skinned abomination, with a face devoid of any features, and a thousand blinking eyes dotting its raw flesh. 

Khalaevna’s mind was rattled with shock, as her eyes struggled to comprehend the sights before her, she leant backwards, and found herself supported by a seat of hard black stone. Gazing down in disbelief, the Over-Tyrant found that her gigantic body was propped up on an ornate palanquin, imbued with ancient nordic runes, and hoisted up upon the back of a swarm of shrivelled, gremlin-like creatures, with gnashing mouths full of twisted teeth, black and sickly with rot and pus. 

Khalaevna’s own attire was gone; replaced by golden rings and rich silks, which exposed the wobbling pale mass of her obese form. Her black hair was woven in gleaming clasps, and jeweled studs pierced her ears. 

It was then that the Over-Tyrant decided what her role in this game would be. 

She opened her mouth and called out, addressing the horde of horrors before her. 

[i][b]“My Children! We have embraced the powers bestowed upon us by our new masters, and with them we shall bring blood and fire to the Southern Kingdoms! The path to our salvation shall be paved with the bones of those who seek to block our path, as we cast the rotten corpses of their false gods down into the abyss. Their towns will burn, their cities will crumble, and their streets will run red, as their life seeps out of them. I am the Over-Tyrant, and it is my hand that shall rip apart these bastions of weakness, and raise up a kingdom of pleasure and pain from its ashes!” 
[/b][/i]

The demon’s roaring could be heard for miles around, as it shook hills, and valleys, and the very mountains themselves. 



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