The Demon Tribe entered through the village gates at dawn. The sun beat down and forced the Tribesmen to cover their eyes. They did not like the sunlight. They would have avoided the burning white light if they could but missions were missions and tyrannies were tyrannies. Sometimes you do what you have to.

The gates buckled under the psychic force of the Demon Tribe’s vicious parade. They were silent and terrible. Onlookers evaporated in total fear. The Tribe’s chieftain, Marguxursxrux, headed the raiding party with his great Ax, AXERERX.

“BRING ALLLLLLLLLL THE PRISONERS TO MEEEEEEEEE!!!!” He shrieked in a bubbling cauldron of anger and grand gestures, a horrible death rattle that roared out from behind the hellish mask he wore. The Aloxtl Mask. It was painted with confusing reds and purples to simulate garish streaks of blood and crooked fangs that almost sparkled in the white hot light. Maruxusurerx was all about the theatrics. He knew what worked. Theatrics worked. With a cackle he hurled AXERERX into the closest Tribesman just as a show of power. He was not fucking around. The Demon Tribe scattered, hunting down the remaining village residents.

Terrified cries erupted from the ramshackle thatched patchwork houses that littered the village. Mostly shacks, not really houses. The residents did not believe the Demon Tribe existed and therefore did not believe they would pillage the village. The Council laughed in the scouts’ faces when they returned from the Northern Reaches with panicked warnings that the Demon Tribe was on the march. No such thing as the Demon Tribe you superstitious clowns!!

WRONG! Dead fucking wrong. Here they were, in the skin, led by the fearsome Maruxxrusrsrs himself! Herself? Itself? Marxusrxrxr was a beast and beasts defy labels (aside from beast). The chaos rose in pitch as the Demon Tribe gutted the village, bringing the residents to heel in the square. They were openly weeping and shaking.

The truth was the Demon Tribe had no idea how this was going to go. Maxusruer seemed like he did but nobody could read his mind, and if we’re really digging into the truth here Maxuxurerr didn’t either. His ferocious mask represented everything he did not feel but instead wished to project into the hearts of his enemies. It seemed to work. Mazxuxuer’s tears remained hidden behind it. He had never wanted to learn the difference between respect and terror because the end result appeared the same: AUTHORITY!

“BRRIIIING THEM OVER HEERRRRRRREEE!!!” hollered Maxuxuer. He rattled his great Ax, AXERERX and it rang with the cries of its past victims. His emotions threatened to overwhelm him as they usually did when he donned the Aloxtl Mask. One of his minions brought a trembling woman to his feet. She made no eye contact. In fact it had appeared as if she had tried to gouge her eyes out. There were ragged marks on her face.

A song from the Old Country entered Maxxuresrrs’s head as he brought AXERERX to bear. Some tune he liked to sing with his family. He heard it whenever he did this.