sorry sprry hvað kaflinn kemur seint var að útskrifast og vesen.
allavega
enjoy


91st chapter
A season to all things

Deathwing was wary of what had just happened. It all seemed too convenient and unplanned for his taste. Deathwing was a mastermind, a schemer, planning things years in advance making sure that every aspect of his plan was perfect. he had planned to use Sira’dreth to release him, not some crazy elf and a suicidal gnome. This whole thing smelled of a setup. But the idea of freedom was enticing. So he changed into an elf and stepped outside the cage. The air was the same outside it as it was inside the bars, but it became somehow sweeter. He sucked in the air as if it was the last in Azeroth, stretched and smiled. He looked at Mizra as she lay on the floor.
Better to get rid of her he thought, the heir of Alekstrazsa could not be anything less than trouble. He raised his hand towards her beginning to spew fire from its fingertips.
“STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! !” Wisim screamed as he took the last steps. Deathwing turned his head towards them and roared. Fire and lava came streaming from his mouth. The heat was intense and unforgiving. Wisim quickly threw a shield to protect them except and Ankthar who was leading the three jumped into the hall, the fire missing him by inches. He was about to wish that he had never even learned how to jump when he rose and saw a man clad in fire.
In his dwarfen form he raised his gun and said: “durn’it”. The gun bellowed and the bullet split the air on its way towards Deathwings head. Deathwings face turned to ash as he blocked the bullet by a scaly and armored hand. Gigantic wings sprouted from his back and his face became horror itself.
Ankthar, was not calm, but in battle it was important not to show fear. His hands shook as he loaded another bullet into the gun. He cocked it and faced the shapeshifting dragon,drawing his axe from sheath. And he charged. Against one of the largest creatures in the world, he charged, shouting words like: “ah’ve killed me one of ya beasties ‘afore an’ ah’ kin do it again”. He jumped on Deathwings legs lodgings his axe deep between a crack in the armor plated scales. The axe however melted. The metal turning to goo in seconds Ankthar fell on his back to witness the final seconds of Deathwings transformation.
No matter whether you hated Deathwing or loved him, you couldn’t help but to be stunned by the sight of him. He was massive, his legs capable of crushing a castle without too much trouble. And he was armored by mithril that had turned black which made him look like he was constancy covered in soot. And through the cracks of the armor one could catch glimpses of the infernal machine that churned beneath the surface. The epitome of his wickedness. The only thing keeping his body together was the impenetrable armor of mithril. He let out a great roar that shook the mountains to its very core.
And what followed was a rain of fire upon Ankthar as hid behind a nearby pillar. The fire did not touch him. But the heat was intense, Ankthar screamed as fire erupted all around him and crouched as the heat became something beyond this world. He screamed, not in pain or anguish but in rage and fear. This was not fair, he could not touch him, he could not shoot him. How could anything like this be defeated? So he crouched and screamed. The column began to crack, fire swept by his face.
A great explosion erupted some meters away from him. The lava Deathwing had spewed had stranded on Wisims shield and hardened, obstructing the way.
But now Wisim had blown his way out and was already in flight. Magic missiles seemed to appear from thin air around him. A barrage of magic was thrown upon Deathwings armor and Wisim was already muttering the next spell.
Manvalas wasn’t exactly in his element. Around here there were no roots or plants to command and he couldn’t fly. He was however not helpless. As Deathwing turned his full attention to fighting Wisim, Manvalas touched the ground beneath them and roots began flowing from his hand to the ground, penetrating the carefully laid tiles.
Ankthar however was not doing anything but getting over Deathwings attack. His skin was smoking, literally, his hair was singed and he was so completely out of breath it was incredible. With burned hands he slowly reached for his backpack. Every movement was pain and he trembled uncontrollably. He grabbed hold of the backpack and was struck with pain as the burned skin was torn from his fingers. He grunted with pain as his face was burned so heavily he didn’t dare to scream. He reached inside the bag and every movement that had always been so easy and carefree was riddled with paralyzing pain. He could feel as parts of his skin touched something and stuck there. How his hand was slowly becoming nothing but meat. He finally found the flask, quickly withdrew it and reaped a pain of blinding proportions. He blacked out for a few seconds. When he came to he was sitting , holding the last healing potion flask in his bloody and torn up hand. he couldn’t open the flask because of its cork tap. His hands were torn up and his mouth was quickly fastening. He grunted with pain and resolution and reached behind himself and banged the flask’s neck into the column. It broke and through the spiked glass flowed the red liquid and broken glass.
Through gritted teeth he tried to swallow as much as he could. He could feel as his skin started to grow back and his hair began to regrow. He blacked out.

Columns broke, earth was shattered and the ground was shaken by Deathwing as he turned to face his adversaries. The missiles made of pure magic shattered on the armor. Deathwing spewed pure destruction upon Wisim who quickly teleported behind his back and shot a beam at his neck. The armor did not break but it cringed, the cracks around it becoming clearer. Deathwing roared in anger and swung his tail at Wisim. Wisim didn’t see it coming and was slammed to the floor. A shield protecting him took most fo the blow and Wisim was quick to his feet, returning to the air in seconds shooting missiles and beams from his hands while dodging all claws bites and fire from Deathwing.
Manvalas rose up with a pillar made of roots and yelled high above the sounds of battle: Deathwing! Cease your attacks, this battle is futile. You can not hope to defeat two of the aspects at the same time!
Deathwing turned his orbs of hate and chaos he called eyes towards Manvalas and roared! “YOU DARE CALL YOURSELF ASPECTS! YOU DARE COMPARE YOURSELF TO ME! YOU ARE MAGGOTS, PARASITES,TOOLS. THE HOUR OF THE DRAGON IS YET TO COME!“And with that he released a stream of fire from his maw, more terrible than anything Manvalas had ever seen. And Manvalas stood there, clamped his hands together and shot a flame of green energy against the flame.
The elements met and the air was turned to chaos. Nature fought against fire, the old against the new, and neither relented. Deathwing was enraged even further by the attack and poured all his hate and bile into the attack. And Manvalas responded in his poem.
“By the power of the leaf
And the failure of a friend
Let the meaning be shown
And the end be foretold”Below the battle of the elements Mizra’s wounds were finally healed.
And not so far away the beatings of mighty wings foretold the coming of three aspects.