Athinar rode the horse hard, barely noting the kobold fleeing with a 'twitch' of his peripherals. Releasing the reins, he stood up in the saddle, as he came alongside the villagers, who looked up at the massive mans form with hope, however brief it was. Jumping away from the horse, he landed on top of a man's shoulders, forcing him to the ground, and shattering the collarbone, forcing him to writhe in agony, struggling for breath as his heart pumped blood through a broken body. Grinning beneath his mask, he simply stood next to the man's shattered form as the militia, shocked, came towards him in rage, fear, desperation. After all, he was only one man, right?

	Athinar inhaled. A man on the right. Sword. Swinging wildly. Easily deflecting it with the palm of his hand, Athinar grabbed the man's neck, and crushing his windpipe in his massive hand, Athinar knocked him unconscious with a headbutt, leaving him to suffocate to death. Not what Athinar would have wanted, but the Master would value efficiency over pleasure. Licking his lips, Athinar grinned. That would come later. 

	The ragtag militia  came to a halt, staring at this man who had made short work of two of their companions. The remaining twelve stood in despair. How would they face this man? Athinar, obviously displeased by what he had to do, raised his ice cold voice, chilling them to the bone. [b][color=FireBrick]"You will drop your weapons. You will not try to attack me, or escape. Then, you will follow me, wearing these."[/color][/b] Athinar held up a long chain of shackles that the Master had given him, ordering him to capture as many as possible. The Master saw that Athinar was displeased by the order, but he would follow it to the letter. Then, a balding man, holding a spear, charged him, howling, despite his companion's objections. Grinning, Athinar fell into rock style, and then dodged the spear as it was thrust at him. Shattering it with a massive forearm, he could [i]smell[/i] the man's fear. See it in his eyes. It was delicious. Relishing what came next, Athinar punched the man in the face, knocking him backwards.

	The man began to fall down, but Athinar grabbed his shoulder, pulling him towards him. Pulling his fist back, he smashed the little man's face in over and over again with his gauntlet, until it was little more than a meaty paste. Dropping the corpse in front of his companions, Athinar let out a little shiver of excitement. He didn't expect that, but it was welcome. Turning to the others wildly, he held up the chain. They came willingly. 

	Athinar called the horse back, and stood at the head of the chain of captives, looking how the iridescent crimson glowed on his gauntlet, when he realized, the blood wasn't the only red thing in the area. A massive, glowing rune appeared in the village proper. Staring, Athinar thought it was the most beautiful thing he ever saw. It was the color of gushing, pouring, [i]holy[/i], blood.