There was something oddly cathartic about destroying things. Perhaps, Kytin mused, it was that all of life's products, from the smallest roach to the largest dragon, depended on some overarching order to sustain it. A stomach needs to be kept filled, a house needs to be kept maintained and orderly.
Most interestingly, however, was watching the fear, the chaos in other humans as this order was torn away from them.
Screams came from the crowd as the captain of the village watch fell to his knees, body engulfed in a sort of rainbow fire that burned cold. His screams warped in pitch, and the skin sloughed off of his body, even as his muscles and bones twisted, contracted, and split apart until what was once a human was now a quivering, barely sentient mass of flesh. A woman in the crowd fainted, and the other village guards could only stare in horror as Kytin looked back towards the crowd.
"Does anybody else have any objections?" He asked, mouth curling into a smile. His helmet hung from his belt, so the townsfolk got a pretty good look at his suprisingly human visage.
"No?"
He scanned the crowd, and the people retreated from his gaze. Why wouldn't they? He'd just made sport of the strongest warrior among them. Their keeper of order...
He smiled, and his human teeth cracked and curved into a set of ghoulish fangs. His eyes started to burn with the same multicolor flames that spelled doom for their warden, and he advanced, his sword bursting into flames as well.
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Kytin took in the scent of it all, and he found the silence to be nothing less than cathartic. He stood in the village square, and he gazed around at the destruction he'd wraught. The corpses of peasants were strewn all about. Some frozen, some burned, others... in less describable states. The variety was staggering, actually. There was one poor sod who was petrified and fused to a wall, while somebody else had their chest cavity imploded. Even worse, the buildings themselves were in quite the state. Some houses were just blown out, but others had the front walls melted, or warped beyond recognition.
In short, he'd rendered nothing but pure chaos on this innocent little hamlet.
He breathed out, and his eyes returned to normal. His left arm, which had turned into some kind of fleshy mandible, twisted and convulsed back into its proper shape, and his sword's flames died down.
It felt good, to be this powerful. But he always had more room to improve, and there were always so many more villages to test his theories and spells on. It served the Connlaothians right, for condemning such a beautiful practice.
And so, he was on the road, leaving yet another footstep in his random trail of destruction.
