It is the work of a few moments to torque their thoughts into something comprehensible by the simple human mind that has no room for languages other than its own.

Transportation will be difficult, Illyria intones to their charge before turning their attention to the parting sea of monsters that have apparently recognized the true form of the ancient god splayed before them. They are tempted to give chase but this would not be conducive to assisting the mortal, and even in this shape they must maintain their oaths.

It is simply a matter of asserting their dominance by strategically smiting a choice few with their great clawed tentacles. Before long many of the winged, draconian monsters have conceded to their God-King's superior might. They order one to the small scuttling mortal thing's side.

Guide it yourself, they tell it brusquely in the ringing, clanging tones that should be synchronous with the human mind. It will listen. And do not stray far from my side. The beasts are fickle and will sell themselves to what master will fight best.

And now Illyria has attracted attention. They are no longer compacted into a tiny, easily concealable shape. Demon lords, those who have achieved power, will soon come in search of the new foe.