One does not simply incite madness without his consent.
Of course he followed the source of the most beautiful of madness, the madness of a god. That specific brand of insanity being delicious to him; he could almost smell its aroma, like that of a fine wine poured over a rotting corpse. Its power, the power it instilled within him, it was what got him up in the morning, so to speak.
Because there are gods who are mad, and then there are gods of madness. Daeh is both.
He burst from the seams of an alternate dimension, his form broken into shards of splendid green, fortunately right in the middle of a church. The sky was burning red above him and the windows of the building shattered, fire licking at the walls. Still the occupants knelt, and they prayed, and they willed the terror away. Daeh resented that, they had not yet given up, had not yet succumbed to glorious insanity.
As his body materialised piece by piece, emaciated, featureless, the bulbous green MelonHead atop the spindly black body, they gaped and they gawked. One shiny grin and they babbled and they screamed, and his arms stretched wide to embrace them. His fists disembowelled the priests and left them caught and impaled, still screeching for forgiveness. The flock broke then, their minds crumbling to dust and their essence infusing him with a warm glowing feeling.
The interior suddenly blurred, and it moulded to fit his template, the angular exterior forming a smooth green sphere. Inside, a colour never seen before in the current universe was displayed everywhere one could see, and the broken humans laughed as they stared at it blankly, not comprehending the majesty of his brilliance.
Then, he stopped the madness, bored of his playing. He returned to relatively normal size and held out one hand, and somehow, despite being within the structure it shrunk and flowed into his open palm. It disappeared, occupants still screaming quietly inside, and he floated down to the ground settling into the crater where once there had been a building. He looked around at the apocalypse claiming the city, and then ran forward blindly his giant head rocking back and forth as if unable to be fully supported on his thin neck.
Then he changed his position, and he was floating high above a city, likely Paris considering the Eiffel tower lay broken on the ground. He gave it no second thought as his arms regrew and he was able to properly navigate the burning air, boulders every so often breaking him in two only for him to regenerate near instantaneously. He headed towards a shadowy figure, one of many he imagined, the madness within it called to him. Eventually he would consume it, absorb the madness into himself, and take its power. For now though, he would help it in its goal, nurture the seed, ready to reap the harvest.
“Hello there friendliest of friends, I see you’ve decided to burn things because why not eh? Well, where are my manners Stygian, as you know, maybe, I am Daeh Nolem. Stupid name I know, I sometimes wonder what idiot gave it to me.”
He paused, his head rolling from side to side.
“Oh that’s right, I named myself. Any-who, what say you to me helping you do things that require me to do things to help you? Basically, I’d like to help you do things, and I’d like you to help me help you do things, so tell me what things you would like me to do friend of friends.” The Avatar of the mad god spoke in a voice encompassing thousands of mad voices, whispers which broke into a strong voice easily heard across the distance they maintained from eachother. Although it was but a fragment of the true fragments of the Mad God’s power, it was certainly enough to cause a little head ache.