sorry havð kaflinn er seinn, gerði hann aðiens lengri til að bæta fyrir það.
þið getið litið á þennan kafla og þann næsta sem beiðni mína til blizzard um að nerfa hunters.

allavega
enjoy

51st chapter
fire from his hands

crypt fiends aren’t built for speed, or mounting capabilities.
So if Sworddevil had any actual sense of touch and discomfort he’d now feel extremely uncomfortable.
But as he sat on the crypt fiends back he did not feel anything but confidence, joy and the complete absence of the usual paranoia.
Yes death was good right now, he finally had his prey , all paralyzed by his presence.
He gloated over his victory, cocksure of himself and his victory.
The wind blew sand over his face, and blurred his sight.
The deep, metallic sound the crypt fiends feet made were static and mechanical.
Thump-kta-Thump-kta-Thump-kta-boom-kta.

Sworddevil reared his head, and took hold of his swords, boom? What in the world was…
BOOM.
The pack of his head flew off. It didn’t matter, he grabbed his swords and stood atop his crypt fiend.

“STOOOOOP! “He screamed and the crypt fiends stopped abruptly .
Sworddevil kept his feet on the back on the crypt fiends and screamed into the sandstorm:” SHOW YOURSELF BASTARD. “
What he got was another shot shooting a part of his ribs away.
Sworddevil seemed somewhat taken aback by that and screamed into the desert:
“THAT BLOODY HURT.”
But he was getting close. The fact that Sworddevil didn’t see his attacker probably meant that he probably had a hard time seeing him too.
BOOM,
There!
A chunk of his leg fell off, he jumped off the crypt fiend and ran with the swords held back towards where the shot had been taken.
“BASTARD!” He screamed in anger strafed to the left and right, three crypt fiends following him, one burrowing down.

Ankthar stood up, aimed and fired.
A leg was blown from one of the crypt fiend. It nearly fell but kept on following Sworddevil, one leg short.
Ankthar gritted his teeth and slung the gun to his back. Reading both his axes.
He called upon Hvenfifar and charged with her against the devil of swords.

Many mortals have tried to kill Sworddevil. Men and women more skilled, more brave and with more to lose had died helplessly at the tip of his swords.
But they were not dwelfs, and they did not have the past he had.
And they did not have Hvenfifar.
Sworddevil struck both the gigantic swords to Ankthars direction, except his aim was way off.
The swords landed in the sand, Sworddevil jumped without letting go of the swords using his momentum and the swords to reach out and kick Ankthar straight in the face.
Ankthar was taken completely by surprise and got the full force of Sworddevils body on his face.
He was blown away a few feet, but he simply laughed it off standing up immediately.
Hvenfifar used the opportunity and jumped on Sworddevil as he was getting up.
Sworddevil, not expecting to get crashed by 600 pounds of panther flesh was thrown away by the force.
Hvenfifar immediately began ripping and tearing parts of him off.
Biting and rending wherever possible.
Sworddevil possessed superhuman strength but the constant, and painful harassment by the claws and fangs of the heavy panther made it impossible for him to do anything but scream, kick and punch the air.

Ankthar found his axes, in the sand, took a look at Hvenfifar as she pounded the annoying undead warrior.
He swelled with pride as he ran towards the crypt fiends that were beginning to circle around Sworddevil , evoking insects to bite and assail the panther.
Ankthar changed into his elven form, ran towards a particularly big fiend with Exen’tor webbed on his back.
He jumped up and with the nimble and acrobatic feet of an elf and landed with the full body ferocity of an angry dwarf.
He heard the exoskeleton crack beneath him when he landed upon it with a swing of his axes.
The crypt fiend went mad with rage.
The backs are somewhat of sacred place on a crypt fiends body. A place where a creature numb with feelings of life and joy can express themselves with the mutilation of the bodies of their victims.

So when Ankthar dared to jump atop one of their kin the rest of the crypt fiends went berserk leaving Sworddevil alone and defenceless.
One of them charged right over his troubled kin, rolling it down on its back, throwing both Exen’tor and Ankthar off tight to the sand. Ankthar fell down on the sand and felt something crack.
It don’t matter he said to himself and but closed his eyes for a second due to the pain.
When he opened them he, was looking at the gaping maw of a crypt fiend falling upon him.
He rolled over, dodging the maw by an inch, jumped up in his elven form, aimed with his gun at the fiends many eyes and fired.
He didn’t fire a bullet per se, it was more a compressed arcane energy in which the gun acted as a wand.
This strange bullet made its way to the crypt fiends head, burrowed itself through on of its eyes, and exploded inside its head, the arcane energy negating the necromancy that kept it moving.
The crypt fiend fell down, finally and irreversibly dead.

The fiend that had charged over his kin before, however began invoking the many bugs and flies that flew around him and were now making their way to Ankthar, as a great black cloud of death.
Ankthar didn’t know what to do, arrows bullets and magic could be dodged and resisted but what could anyone do against a mass of flying insects, bent on eating you?
He closed his eyes knowing that he had but few seconds until the cloud would hit him and begin tearing him apart.
Deep inside himself, he remembered what happened those few years ago, and what he had been taught.
To draw the heat from your life energy, your mana, to bring it out in your hands and to throw the fire ahead.

Using the magic inherited as a high elf and the stubborn unrelenting energy of a dwarf, he brought forth fire in his hands.
And he threw it, straight through the cloud and towards the crypt fiend. The primitive fire ball scorched every bug and fly coming his way.
Ankthar followed shortly thereafter running in the burned wake of his fireball, which hit the crypt fiend, stunning it and disrupting its casting.
Ankthar used the opportunity, jumped up high landed near the crypt fiend.
He spun around with his axes in his outstretched hands and in one spin he chopped, right through two of its feet.
The crypt fiend unable to stand, fell to its side, dropping Mizra at the same time from its back.
Ankthar slowly compressed another arcane bolt, walked to the fiends spinning head, put the gun to its head and fired.
He compressed another bullet and did the same thing to the crypt fiend that had been rushed over.
He kneeled over t his gun and took a breather, using this magic stuff, was a lot harder than it looked.

But his rest was not long lived, for he immediately heard the most terrible sound he’d heard for a long while.
Hvenfifar wailed pitifully as the devil of swords finally managed to reclaim his sword and with force thrust the sword through the panthers ribcage.
The panther did not die immediately but kept on wailing as Sworddevil rose up with the panther held high on his sword.
His face was half gone, his throat completely ribbed off and chunks of his arms and chest simply missing.
He pointed the sword with the dying Hvenfifar towards Ankthar and said with a voice of on who’s just recently had his ego battered and his throat ribbed off:
“You… are so dead… not even …Arthas can save you…… from me.”