Sigmah Blackmarrow
An ambush of fire. More of a wall of flame, three inches thick, fifteen to twenty feet across, Sigmah noted as it activated the shell of death magic, unraveling the spell as it hit. The rest of the team was not so lucky. Not surprising, really, to see a wall of fire in the Firelands, but they tend to be effective. Sigmah brushed some lingering druid off of its skull, a calculated motion. It wanted to let the four, no, five Druids of the Flame that were beginning to circle Sigmah like wolves around a wounded deer, and that it was not afraid of them.
They spoke in rapid Darnassian, believing Sigmah to be ignorant of the language. It watched, waiting, for the first one to make a move. All of then looked to be exhausted by the spell, save for the leader. Their flame robes whipped in the heat driven wind, and they all surveyed the death knight. After a moment’s discussion of tactics, the leader glared at Sigmah with hate filled eyes, and spoke in quick orcish.
“Kill it.”
They came all at once, two shifting into the fiery cats in mid leaps, their vocal cords letting out a shriek of transformative power, changing into the hateful yowls. A third began shifting into the form of a gigantic scorpion, beginning to scuttle forwards behind the cats, while the fourth began murmuring an incantation, the power building around his hands. In a flash, the axe was up and moving, bloodshine runes flaring brightly as one side of the axe head, dulled to crush and hammer, came up into the first feline’s ribcage. The feline cat spasmed and let out a shriek of pain, spitting up blood as its insides were crushed. The light cat rocketed up and over Sigmah’s head, collapsing behind the abomination. She shifted back to her elven form, as she died with a light rattle of exhaling breath. One.
The second feline came under the axe as its compatriot died, vicious claws, each one burning as it tore into Sigmah’s armored midsection. Prepared accordingly, Sigmah leaned back with the upswing of its axe, the claws only glancing off the black plate armor. The cat hissed and ran past before Sigmah could recover, and the scorpion came at the abomination, the stinger lashing at Sigmah’s head with blinding speed. A glancing blow off of Sigmah’s skull, a burst of flame that would have blinded any normal creature, and it knocked away one pincer that would have pinned its legs, and blasted the other with dark magic. The scorpion hissed as the shell began dying, diseased corruption traveling along its length. The fourth druid’s incantation began reaching a crescendo, and fire, concentrated into a single line, white hot, rushed towards Sigmah with surgical precision. Icy fortitude met raging hate, and Sigmah’s chestplate steamed and hissed as the plate armor suffered the hit. A shrieking roar foretold the flame cat’s return, and Sigmah twisted, reaching into the air as the cat pounced towards it, claws outstretched to rend the abomination asunder. Sigmah reached out with one clawed gauntlet, grabbing the cat by the burning mane around its throat, and twisting again as the icy cold surrounding it began to fail. The abomination launched the cat at the caster, straight through the spell, as the twisting, flailing creature screamed as the laser like quality of the channeled spell tore through ashen fur and burning blood. The creature shifted and twisted and then the shriek cut off, as it fell to pieces in meaty, cooked chunks. Two.
The leader narrowed his eyes, and began approaching, cautiously, as the caster gaped in horror at what he had done, while the scorpion charged again, tail lashing in a frenzy. Sigmah dodged the counter one, two, three lashing and then the pinching charge, and brought the axe down hard on the creature’s head as it sidestepped the charge, unable to defend its head with the pincers extended. The scorpion died without a sound, the axe coming loose from it’s head with a nauseating crunch. Three.
It wasted no time, pointing at the Leader and murmuring the same incantation as the caster had. White hot fire erupted from the clawed gauntlet, and the leader ducked, and rolled away, shifting into a cat form himself. Sigmah’s lichfire eyes narrowed, and swept the pointed hand to the left, cutting the casting flame druid in two before he had time to recover himself. Four.
Sigmah looked around; the leader had vanished after the Scorpion had died. The second spell had weakened it, and it raised an arm to raise the first night elf from the dead, bright green runes flaring on the axe head as the necromantic magic prepared itself. In a flash, the leader was by Sigmah’s side, grabbing onto the outstretched arm by the upper arm. One leg flew up to Sigmah’s head, curling around the skull, while another wrapped around its midsection. The sudden, unprepared weight on Sigmah’s arm caused the abomination to falter, the magics unreleased, and the creature fell to its right knee. The druid twisted, growling hatefully, as it leaned and pulled. Sigmah heard the arm bone snap and dull warning pain. As soon as the bone snapped, the druid rolled away, letting go, and shifting back into cat, turning and growling.
Sigmah regarded the Druid of the Flame carefully. The druid snarled, and launched itself to the side, attempting to attack Sigmah on the weakened side. The lich attempted to turn, unable to stand in time, axe at the ready in its left hand but the right hanging loosely at the side, broken. Like lightning, the druid launched itself at Sigmah’s midsection, attempting to get the abomination on the ground. The axe came down at the druid, bloodshine runes blazing, but it nimbly sidestepped the axe, claws and teeth outstretched to destroy the plate armor and disembowel Sigmah. Instead, the loose right arm came to life, and the clawed gauntlet reached into the flame druids mouth, and down its throat. The cat gagged, and scrabbled at the armored, broken arm. After a second, the lich dropped the axe, and grabbed onto the feline’s muzzle, and pulled. Bleeding intestine, stomach, and esophagus came with the plated gauntlet, and the leader died with a gag and a torrent of blood, before shifting back into the elven form. Five.
Sigmah stood, and as the blood faded into the armor. A quick snap was heard, and the arm was fully repaired. It surveyed the bodies, and then moved on. A good start.
