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Cataclysmic Blood

April 23, 2010

Flames lashed Zavier, and set his hair and clothing on fire. Stoically, he ignored this and traced a complex rune in the air that glimmered with sickly green and black energy and slowly drifted towards his human antagonist. The latter flinched away but the tracery of light clung to his forehead and glimmered there, seemingly without doing anything.

The cultist shouted in triumph as he completed his spell and launched a sizzling ball of molten lava at Zavier. Slightly behind him, a half dozen others did likewise. The orc sneered and braced himself for impact. There was a sickening thud and sizzle and a brief smell of charred meat. The cultist smiled happily as he saw the blackened, dead skin of the death knight peel away, the wet flesh crisp and char. A brief flash of white cheek bone shone through the murky air. Then the undead orc raised his hand and lava, mottled with necrotic energy, burst from his own hand to char the cultist to the bone. Even as this happened, the runes chiselled into its blade flashed a bright light that glowed the shockingly scarlet colour of fresh blood. Flesh crawled back across his face and tendons reconnected themselves. A thick layer of scabbed flesh grew. The light grew stronger until a bloody glow surrounded the orc that pushed the flames that still clung to him away.

Now there was fear on the face of the next cultist that Zavier oriented on. His next spell simply bounced off the carmine shield the death knight had surrounded himself in. The man backed away and the orc followed. The axe lashed out with shocking suddenness to carve a furrow that seethed with necrotic energy that began to course through the man’s left shoulder, then curve round to deflect the man’s attempted hammer blow. Massive muscles supported the axe with the left hand alone as the orc raised his gauntleted right fist and from it came a blast of frosted air that caught the cultist on his right side and stiffened and cramped his muscles. The gauntleted fist opened and unholy magic burst from it to arc towards his opponent and then to all the others who were frantically chanting further spells. Each of them gasped and cried out as the diseased light twisted around them and insinuated itself into their bodies. Then both arms brought the axe, the runes on its head blazing with a cruel, thirsty light, round in a short, vicious arc that cut half way through the second man.

Clutching his side and near death, the human, eyes wide, turned and fled. Zavier shook his head at the futility of such an action. “Now, now. I really can’t have that.” He chided. “You’ll only regain your courage and come back for more.” A ball of entropic energy flew swiftly after his foe, and then another. The cultist staggered under the impact and fell to his knees. A black mist rose before eyes and then he fell onto his face, dead.

Zavier had already turned his attention to another, and moved with a deadly stalk towards him. This was a tauren and his face was already blanched and contorted by the diseases that racked his body. He and the remaining other ambushers launched a barrage of lightning spells but the first two were absorbed harmless by the red shield that the dead orc had conjured up and the others were not swift enough to outpace the green swirl of protective runes Zavier had twisted into a shield around him. The tauren looked even worse when he realised that even the scabs had now fallen off the death knight’s face and there was no sign that he had ever been harmed. Then the shadow of the axe fell across his face and he knew it was all up for him. “Great Mother pro__.”

Zavier spat as he wrenched the axe from the fallen tauren’s body. “You already betrayed her. Why should she help?” He stalked towards his next target. Blood was splashed on his armour and the crimson glow of his power burned around him. There were more cultists to slay and he looked forward to this. There were times when he wondered what true death would be like, but when the battle-lust was up, he was glad to be undead.

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