In Nightmares only Dreams come true (Story V2.0), More descriptive, less stupid Options

[Tristram]

"I have no idea who I was before the attack on Stratholme, people say I was on the Alliance Expedition. Some believed I helped on the attack on Stratholme with Arthas Menethil." The warrior in battle beaten armor stood on a hill over looking Terokkar Forest. "I am a warrior, I am the protector of Azeroth and Draenor. Now I believe I'm a key to things greater then myself." He called for his Netherdrake, he mounted the smooth scaleless dragon. He muttered something in some language as the netherdrake flew off into the distance. "Where should I begin?" The warrior said. "I am Preliatus Mortalitas... I have many names and ranks. I was found beaten and barely alive wearing the armor of the Lorderan Army. I was under a pile of human corpses, undead and a ghoul from this dreadlord's scrouge." He takes a deep breath sighing, he pointed the netherdrake towards the ground. He jumped off it and landed on a floating piece of rock overlooking Hellfire Pennisula. " After they found me they brought me to Northshire in Elwynn Forest, I was hoping to meet Uther there then I found out the wretched prince Arthas killed him."

Preliatus took his sword off his back, it was a crafted mimic of the Bloodhawk Claymore. He stabbed it into the rock he was on, "I trained at northshire valley for a few months before Highlord Bolvar Fordragon took me in. He learned about my history which I can't remember now." He whistled a soft tune, a Gryphon with red armor fly at him, He climbed on it and flew it over to Netherstorm. " I was a cruel person, I owned slaves... they never lived beyond a few days." He sighed, showing a great pain exisiting in his heart " I had people trying to stop me, even an-" He was cut off as his gryphon pulled up avoiding the pinnicles on Blade's Edge. "Now..." He jumped off, landing a few feet below on the terroitory of the Burning Legion. "My history is clouded... To many complications." He unseathed his gifted Draconian Axe and slammed the head into the blood filled so it was stuck in the ground. "I mark the places where my blood has spilled." He walked off into the distance, never looking back or turning his head. His past is to be buried, never dug up.

"Where... Where am I?" He tried to lift up his body to look around, a massive pain flashed through his body. "Quiet foot soldier.." He was being dragged. He was finally set down on the ground, he was laid on the ground next to another foot soldier. "Ser... How are y-" He took his last breath and passed. "Sir.. Your the only foot soldier that survived the destruction of Stratholme. What is your name?" Preliatus still losing blood, and barely breathing gasps as he spoke "Ser..Preliatus.. Mortalitas.." He said before fainting, the healer and footsoldier shook thier heads as they thought he was dead. Preliatus stood in a normal house looking outside into the city, people walking delivering the tainted grain and going about thier lives. The smell of death filled the air, fresh.. He paced and grabbed his claymore, it was clean, the reflection of him in the blade. "Alone.. we are, very alone." He looked back into the blade and saw a creature behind him. "Do you want to stay and fight? Or leave with me my brother?"

He awoke, in the crypt in depths of the Catherdal in Stormwind. "So... cold.." He noticed that the lid to the coffin was not nailed, he easily slid it off with no problem. "The... The... dead are alive!" a priest scream as she ran up the stairs to the cathedral. Preliatus walked over, he was wearing a strange type of armor not known to him, the armor embedded into his body. He tried to pull off the armor. he doubled over in pain as his skin torn around the edges of the jagged armor. "By the light.. why?" Highlord Bolvar Fordragon says as the priest walks down behind him. "You've been dead for four years..." Preliatus looked over and glanced, his face filled with hate and anger. "Where is my armor? and my weapon? Flesh render?" Bolvar sighed as he felt regret for doing the actions he did to Preliatus "They.. they were forged back into thier raw form. Your armor was cracked so we had the armor your wearing forged into your body.. its made by the many scales of Onyxia and her brother Nerfarian. Because of many adventurerers returning with many heads and scales of the two we believe they are fake." Bolvar sighed. "We have a weapon and a horse for you up in the Armory.. which is now the Champions Hall. To replace your axe and mace we have granted you to weild the weapons of Nerfarian. A Draconian Mace and Axe." He motioned for Preliatus to follow. " We hoped to give you these before you died because of the tatoo and scar on your back. We are to believe your a dragon in human form." They came to the Champions Hall. "Highlord! He is not a knight or of any rank of our army. How can you be sure he is not a traitor of the horde?" Preliatus just walked right in, ignoring the guards. He slammed the guards blocking his way aside, He noticed the weapons hanging on the wall by chains. "Sir.. the Highlord wanted you to wield these.. we are believing they are of Draconic origin, you might not be able.." Preliatus broke the chains and tied the mace to his back, and weilded the axe. "A dragon! guards! attack him!" Bolvar sighed and shook his head. "Preliatus is allied with us, he is a friend not a foe." Preliatus smirked, and walked to Bolvar. "So my friend what duties will you want me to do? After all if I am your guard.. what do you wish me to do?"

"Preliatus, I want you to explore this world. Get used to it, it has changed since the destruction of Stratholme." Highlord Bolvar Fordragon said. Preliatus looked at the hilt of the axe and ran his hand down the smooth warm metal. "So.. Bolvar, where is my friend Highlord Mograine? Did he survive the attack?" Bolvar looked down wondering how to answer his question. "Preliatus.. if thats what you call yourself now Seriliator. Highlord Mograine was killed by his son Renault infront of Stratholme. We tried to retrieve his blade but.. he took it with him in Undeath." Bolvar walked out with Preliatus behind him. "Now Preliatus take this skull, hold it in the air and call your horse. This is a Death Knights horse, we thought it would fit you. If you want another horse either get your own nine-hundred gold pieces or prove yourself to the alliance by protecting Alterac Valley." Bolvar hands him the horse skull and an insiginia of the alliance.

Preliatus! Where are you!

Save me!

Preliatus awoke on the boat from Menethil Harbor to Theramore, He couldn't shake the strange voice out of his head. "More Nightmares.. more wounds." He said to himself as he walked off the boat and summoned the horse. The foot soldiers and dock workers stared at him as he rode the undead horse to Theramore and to Jainia's tower. "Soldier.. what is your business with Ms. Proudmoore?" One of the guards asked Preliatus. "I'm here with news from Bolvar. She might want to hear." Preliatus slammed the guard into the brick of the entry way, the guard looks at Preliatus seeing blood leaking from the outline of his armor. The two massive Axe and Mace on his back. "Nick? Are you ok?" Another guard helps him up. "Yeah, that bastard is a damn dragon.. he is weilding weapons fabled only a dragon can use." The guard picked up his shield and sword from the ground. "Want to corner him? maybe turn in his skin for money?" They both smile wickedly, "Yes.. time to go to another place then this walled town." They followed Preliatus close behind. Both grinning, evil and greed clouding thier minds, they attacked Preliatus. "Fine... kill me." Preliatus said dropping his weapons, both clanging on the wooden floor. The first guard nick swung with all his might, Preliatus grabbed his wrist and pushed him over the edge. The second guard dropped his sword and sheild and ran down after his friend, tripping over a book and a chair, falling down to the stone floor. "Nice work Preliatus.. very nice." Jaina Proudmoore was thier clapping and smiling, she was also attemping not to blush. "Bolvar wanted me to visit you for a mission... or a quest as what these "Adventurers" are calling them now-a-days." Preliatus picked up the mace and strapped it to his back, he picked up the axe and gripped it tightly. "So.. Preliatus.. he wanted me to give you more armor, your chestpiece, legguards and boots won't be enough. "Jaina teleported them both to a cave, south of Theramore, but north of the rumored location of where Onyxia is supposed to reside at. "Here Preliatus.. some Pualdrons, a belt, wristguards and some gloves. Now once you put these one they will bind to your skin like your current armor." Preliatus grunted as he put on the armor, the searing metal binding with his flesh.. "Why must my armor be bound to my body? Why must I feel pain when wear my armor?"

Preliatus! Why are you doing this? Why?

Preliatus doubled over in pain grasping his head, a voice invading his thoughts and his mind.

Who.. Who are you? Why are you in my mind?

"Preliatus... Are you alright? Want me to teleport us ba-" Jaina was teleported away before she could finish. Preliatus got up, he saw a night elf infront of him. He saw her holding a knife to his neck, he was wearing armor different then what he wears now. He falls to the ground as he feels pain in his mind.

I will kill you... someday.

Awake!

Preliatus openned his eyes, he was infront of the entrance of Onyxia's lair.

Rise!

He reached for his weapons and didnt feel them, he looked around and saw them stuck into the sides of the cave. He stood up, realising he was surrounded by draconoids and dragonlings. "Why do you strip me of my weapons? What importance am I to you?" A Draconoid warrior grabbed Preliatus, he struggled againist the grip and force of the Draconoid. "Brother.. remember! Will pain make you?" The warrior said in broken common. The Draconian warrior pulled and ripped his chestpiece from his chest, pulling off his flesh and exposing the bones of his chest and arms. Preliatus fell to the stone, bleeding, the cold stone stinging his wound. "I am Preliatus Mortalitas.. Ex-guard of Stratholme. I have no business with dragons." The Draconoid growled as he picked preliatus up, pulling off his gauntlets, the skin painfully being pulled off his body. "Why must you lie brother?" Preliatus grunted, and groaned as the cool air stinged his wounds. A blue light filled his eyes as he fell to the ground. The last thing he saw before his vision went black was Jaina and her friend Paine fight off the draconians.

"How badly is he injured?" Jaina asked a paladin, that was the only healer in Theramore. "Hes missing his flesh off his chest and hands... I don't know hows he is still alive." Jaina smirked, "Grab the Arcane infused armor... It might keep him alive." The paladin nodded. A few minutes later he returned with a few other guards dragging the plate armor. "Put the armor on him, it might hold him together long enough." The paladin painfully nodded. They walked to the medical bay, Doctor Gustaf VanHowzen stood by looking at the blood trail from the entrence of the barracks to the bed which is soaked in blood. "Why the hell are you dressing a dead person in that armor? I've already ordered a casket and a priest." The doctor laughed. The paladin ordered Doctor Gustaf VanHowzen out of the room, they painfully dressed Preliatus in the arcane infused armor. They waited as he moved and shook. He openned his eyes and saw him in armor, that was more.. fitting to the alliance. "Where... am I?"

Snow covered the ground, in a small circle at the base of a fire it was melted. The brown dirt underneath. A human covered in weapons sat there peering into the raging flame. He didn't need a fire, because he felt no heat, nor did he feel cold. He sighed and stood up, he heard footsteps heading towards him, most likely hunters. He stood grabbing two axes from his belt and throwing them down, followed by two swords, daggers, and some fist weapons. He looked up, it was a band of dwarven hunters, he sighed and unstrapped the heavy load of weapons to the ground, they clanged together causing some racket. The rifleman aimed his gun and fired. He saw the Night Elf again running to his side, as his vision faded she was being pulled away from him.

Awake! Remember! Brother Nazetheros!

Preliatus awoke in a cold sweat underneath his armor. He was in Dun Morogh, but he can't remember how he got there. He rose, he was in a tent that was ruined by flame, His back hurt and he was laying ontop of a burnt skeleton. He painfully got up, he saw a whole camp like this. "What the hell?" He reached for his maul and axe, the grips where molten hot but he didnt care for the heat. "Who is this night elf? And why am I hearing voices?" He blew a whistle and a Nightsaber ran to him, the huge cat roared when he saw his owner. "I guess I have a cat to ride now.." He sighed as he got on, the cat ran off without his command. He came across the area that was in his nightmare, Preliatus saw a flash where he saw himself getting shot at. "Why?" He forced the Nightsaber to ride away.

Serve us! Remember your Destruction! Deathwing created you!

"Where do you think Preliatus is? We haven't heard of him since theramore." A footman said in the Champions Hall. "Should we presume he is deceased?" The two footmen looked at eachother and shook thier heads. "Its been months.. but he might be alive.. still." A loud bang was heard as Preliatus came in the door way. "He picked up a Grand Marshal's Claymore and a few trinkets and rings before walking out. The two guards didnt do anything as this stuff was stolen. Their faces were in awe as his armor has changed, from the Draconic scales to smooth plate and soft looking edges. "Tell the Highlord that I'm back and I'm going hunting for some Dragons." Preliatus picked up a small helm, fitting it on his head as he walked out. Citizens stopped as they saw him walk through the streets, blood dripping down from creases in his armor. He didn't care... He wanted to figure out who he really is, beyond some footman that surivived the attack on Stratholme.

Highlord Bolvar Fordragon stood againist ten Draconian Warriors after Lady Prestor and the honor guards turned into Dragons. He stood gripping his weapon tightly, he looked around at the growling Daconoids. Each holding a sword and shield of the Stormwind Honor guard. "Onyxia has... come." He said under his breath. He charged at one of the Draconoids, his blade meeting the shield. "Fight me! Fight me till I die!" Bolvar yelled, it echoed throughout the halls of the keep.

Preliatus heard the yells and clashing of Swords and shields from the Valley of Heros. His eyes widened as he turned around and ran to the keep. He arrived, not sweating or breathing heavily, he looked onward as adventurers looked at Bolvar without leanding help. He unseathed his Claymore, he charged up ignoring the words of the onlookers. "Sir! Your going to get slaughtered! He can handle it... I think." He ignored it as he charged to Bolvar's side, knocking one of the Draconoids senseless. "Brother has come... the traitor.. Kill him!" The draconoids swarmed Preliatus, each looking at him with blood lust. "Preliatus! Why do you help me? You are risking your life!" Preliatus grinned as his claymore met one of the Draconoids in the neck, cracking its scales and cutting into the flesh underneath. Bolvar continue fighting them off, Preliatus took blows and hits as his armor started to crack. Blood started to seep out of one crack on his chest. "Preliatus! You really need to stop fighting!" He ignored that as he attacked the last one, slicing its head clean off. Preliatus fell to his knees. Breathing heavily as he saw a puddle of blood form under his chest. He fell down, two bulgdes on his back break through his armor as two dragon type wings covered with black scales start to form.

I will give you your strength! Traitor of the Black Flight. You may keep your scales, but you will carry your guilt and regret with you.

"What the hell! That warrior is a dragon? Attack him Bolvar! Attack him!" A young warlock said, looking at Preliatus as his hands started to grow in length and his armor starting to fade into his skin as his skin became scales. Bolvar watched as his friend, and guard was turning into a Dragon. Preliatus' helm cracked and split off his head. His head turning into a dragon's head, his pupils becomeing a slit. He stood up and looked at the crowd of adventurers, he fell back to his knees, growling as this transformation is quite painful. His body and legs growing in size as scales covered his armor, He groaned as his tail formed, covered in black and ending with a bulb of horns.

Good! Great! Now be welcomed by the clans of hunters and my brood hunting you down. Highlord Preliatus Mortalitas. That was your rank at the battle of anchients, My brother now is highlord of the Black dragonflight.

Preliatus looked around and blew a long flame of fire, burning and killing a small gnome in the path. He fell and fainted he didnt feel the pain of transformation again as his body turned into a human.

He awoke, laying in a pool of his own blood. Bolvar helped him up, his armor cracked and broken. "Preliatus? are you ok?" the warrior nodded, he wiped blood off his face, his vision was blurry as color was slowly coming back into focus. "I'm fine.. Onyxia nad Nerfarian tore into my mind.. they triggered something and told me who i am." He sighed with some greif as he watched people carry the gnome away in pieces. "I am Highlord Preliatus Mortalitas, Ex-Highlord of the Black dragonflight. I served by Deathwings side before the dragons fled at the war of the achientsWhen I picked my human form I picked a dying human footsoldier on the realm of Draenor." He gripped his Claymore and shealted the axe and mace onto his back. He walked out as he muttered a few words, the cracks in his armor disappearing and fusing together.

<Else where.>

"Are you sure he might be this way?" A dwarf says. "This scale never lies. A new dragon has arisen." A female elf said, she had long silver hair and markings on her face, representing she was a Kalidorei. "Where is it at?" The elf smirked "The Badlands, its in that direction." They walked out from underneath a snow covered tree, the elf and her hunters started to head to the Badlands, a desolate desert. "I hope its you Naztheros." she said under her breath.

<Over the skies of The Badlands.>

Preliatus was in his dragon form, the wind brushed over his black scales. He dove down in a nose dive before landing onto of a platue overlooking a valley of Dragons, and broodlings. He watched a group of Dwarves led by a night elf walked into the valley.

be alert, a group of dragon hunters are approaching, kill the dwarves, leave the elf for me.

The group was surrounded by the dragonlings. "Attack!" the elf yelled, the dwarves firing their muskets at the dragonlings. Each dwarf was killed, the talons of the dragons tearing thier eyes and ripping thier heads to shreds. "What?" the last dwarf fell, the dragons disappeared, Preliatus swept down landing infront of the elf. The elf out of rage shot her druidic spells at the dragon. The dragon didnt flinch. Preliatus turned into a human infront of the Elf. "Your... your.. Knight Preliatus Mortalitas!" She said, before she could continue she was cut off. "Yes, I'm him... but you can call me Naztheros, Highlord of the black dragonflight."

The night elf casted a spell that send roots to entwine themselves around Preliatus' legs. The warrior slashed at the base of the roots, the roots around his legs shriviled up and died. The Night Elf now well pissed off, threw her staff at Preliatus' head, the red orb at the top meeting his helm met. He staggers backwards and falls onto his back. His helmet clanking as he hits the ground. Vision slowly fading.

"Well Naztheros... I expected you to pick something more noble then a damned human!" The night elf said as she took off his helm and smacked him across the head with it. He groans in pain, his eyesight fading again. "So soft hands for a murderer and a dragon!" She said gripping his right hand, she takes his claymore edge and saws through his wrist. "Wh-" he says fading out of time again.

He Awakes again, a vulture next to him, his armor above his waist gone, and stacked next to him. His gauntlets gone. "Damn.. dragon hunter." He looked at his right arm and noticed his right hand gone. after shaking his head and putting on his armor he grabs his Claymore and straps it to his back. He slams the Draconic Weapons into the warm dirt. He shifts into his dragon form and flys off, but still suffering the loss of his right hand as it didnt regenerate while his transformation. "I must find this Kalidorei and kill her."

(( More to be posted as soon as my laptop is up and running ))