But for an operation of this scale you need a lot of people, and most of those people are Mendevian, and some of them are Nurah Dendiwhar. 

Who, to be clear, did not even actually suggest anything insane. (Well, she suggested something very reasonable that will turn out to be a trap that nearly kills Camellia and Anevia and Lann in Drezen's basement, actually, but before that.) But she had previously mentioned, idly, curiously, when they were standing over the corpse of the vescavor queen in the crags of Leper's Smile, that it seems like its pheromones have some kind of enraging effect on the other vescavors. 

"Huh," Kalika had said, vaguely, mostly looking at the binding circle on the ground. (It smells nice here, she thought to herself at the time, briefly, puzzled. Why does it smell nice. Everyone else looks like they are trying very valiantly not to throw up. Then she didn't think about it again for a long while, because there were a lot of other problems to deal with, and that one didn't seem that important.) "We could probably do something clever with that. Scrape up some of it into a barrel and we'll take a look later." Woljif's all right with alchemy-- helps he can resist energy himself a few minutes a day without a spell slot if he needs to, makes a man more willing to touch things that might explode-- and once they locate him, if they could figure out how to make vescavor repellant, that'd be nice. Failing that, toss it on the biggest minotaur or whatever in the vicinity, shouldn't assume Deskari's minions can be easily turned against each other but for example Darrazand is, to her understanding, one of Baphomet's. 

They didn't find Woljif.

Who isn't dead, of course, they'd have found a body or at least some of the magic items he was wearing. And whose clear orders were to not engage demons head-on alone because he would obviously instantly die of that, and go hide and come back when safe to do so to report, which Kalika expects him to do at some point. (People'd stopped suggesting in her hearing that he obviously deserted after she lit a man on fire.) So, naturally this means they fell back on the second plan for the use of most of the slime, though of course she kept a small vial of the stuff in the research objects pile.  

Nurah said cheerfully that she thought that was a great idea and she'd personally go assure all the handpicked loyal soldiers assigned to transport it that it was perfectly safe and their contributions to the war effort were greatly appreciated and isn't it so lovely how demons can't coordinate with each other but they can, and so on.

Kalika, still mostly thinking about the interesting structural properties of the vescavor slime (it has such a texture! the only thing she's ever seen that merges enchantment-school magic with physical form quite like that), had been happy to delegate. 

This is why there's a bunch of very brave, very Good soldiers holding a horrible, awful weapon, when they break down the gates of Drezen.

Regill looks down at them from his perch on top of the wall he's just thrown an ash giant off of, at Irabeth backtracking in the face of a great retriever and the soldiers beginning to panic around her, and says, calmly, "They are going to lose, Commander." 

"So they are," agrees Kalika, meticulously cleaning infected blood from the blade of her sword with a cloth that will be burned later (ash leprosy is no joke). She strings her longbow-- not her favorite weapon, Lann's a better shot, but if you can't cast lightning bolt you carry something with range-- and takes aim, waiting for the demons to be in the splash zone as well as the soldiers, and shoots. 

Ravenous demonic insects descend with remarkable alacrity from the fabric of the worldwound, when they are called.  

There is really quite a lot of screaming.

Kalika does not really like it when there is screaming.

The thing is. 

There is a moment that comes just after the screaming, when everything is dead. Where it is quiet, almost. Where there's this ambient hum in the air, the lingering noise of the vescavor drone and the buzz of wingbeats and the soft beating hearts of things that are too dead to scream but haven't finished dying yet, all together adding up to an even white noise. Kalika thinks, longingly, for a second, looking down at the scene of slaughter, that if the world sounded like that all the time, she'd get so much work done. 

Then she has demons to kill, and she doesn't think about that again for a long while, either. It doesn't seem important. 

(and she's Evil, and she doesn't know why.)