He'd fought enough crazed monsters to know that reaction when he saw it, and it tended to make the foe ten times deadlier. Zeratul was swift enough to block or avoid its mad clawing, though it managed to catch his cloak and create another tear along its edge. Not that anyone would be able to tell, given how ragged the cloth was already.

Zeratul released the banner as he swung the polearm around in front of him, the heavy cloth whipping across the Kishin's senses and confusing it. A dangerous tactic, as a confused monster that was already angry would lash out even worse. While its ferocity increased, it had lost whatever precision it might have had before. Exactly where he wanted it.

Hefting the polearm over one shoulder, Zeratul struck, driving the spearhead into the soft, white flesh of the monster's neck. It shrieked in pain before the sound became little more than a gurgle, choking on its own blood. The sound was more satisfying when it was a zergling or a hydralisk, but for the time being he was going to have to be content with this one. He yanked back to dislodge the weapon, letting the Kishin slump to the ground as it died.

"A dreadful fate of its own choosing," he said aloud, though there was no real remorse to his tone.