Dionysus loved Hephaestus' forge. There were so many shiny things to look at and touch. Each one did something different and amazing and wonderful and unexpected. Oh he loved the unexpected. That the owner of the forge had told him repeatedly not to touch things without asking never seemed to completely sink in to the part of his brain that retained long term memory. Or if it accidentally managed to do just that, it was easily forgotten when confronted with the wonders presented by Heph's creations.

( The lovely little trinket he was currently toying with, for example. )

It had been a lovely town, he reflected as he watched the smoke roll up from one of the buildings on the eastern side. Dionysus was standing on the hillside just to the south, upwind of the smoke, watching with great pride as his maenads began making their way through the town. Whoever had started that first fire was brilliant, and would be rewarded. He'd just thought to teach the people here not to disrespect a god, a lesson best learned well before they ran into someone less pleasant than he was, but the fire changed that plan. Now, his mind turned toward razing the entire area. Then the forest could take over and it could be as new.

( “Burn it!” )