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Tampering with Time

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Tampering with Time

Post  Preliatus on Tue Apr 13, 2010 1:50 pm

Mild language, and a bit more action into it. Preliatus goes back in time to the day before the Culling of Stratholme to have some "fun" but is stopped by himself which leads to literally killing himself. Leaving the bronze dragonflight to clean up the mess.

It was night time. The dark quiet streets of Stratholme, nothing in sight seemed out of place. The stands of fish, and fruit safely in closed crates. Few people out in the dark streets. Looking for some fun. Cause trouble was on their agenda, or it might have been to fondle with the prostitutes of the lower parts of the city. A dark warrior wearing armor of unknown crafting of the time was seen at the higher end of the city. Fondling with a female guard. Attempting to pay her for a good time even at her refusal. The warrior pulled off her helm and crashed it to the ground. Covering her mouth he snickered darkly. “Scream even once bitch and I shall have your head.” The guard screamed for help. Even though against the request of the warrior she done so, hoping someone would help her from the vile clutches of this evil human.


A woman scream is heard throughout the city. Falling on deaf ears to the plight of the woman. A local knight at the time, awake. Polishing his prized Claymore, keeping it spotless. The blade long and thick. Not a crack covering the blade nor hilt. The human stood grabbing the Claymore and rushing down the dark, and empty streets to the screams. The knight arrived in time to hear the screams cut short, a dark plated warrior stood there. Holding the disembodied head in one hand and the body of the guard in the other. “Stupid wretch wouldn't shut up.” The warrior snickered in delight. Pulling off a piece of flesh on the bottom of the severed head. Slurping the piece of flesh down his throat. His snickering slowly becoming a dark and twisted laugh. Echoeing through the city. The Knight in fear, stood ready for any other movement from the warrior. Choking on words he finally speaks "Who are you?" The knight said attempting to keep his calm. "I'm Highlord Preliatus Mortalitas, and I've come to feast on the women of this wonderful city.." The Knight stood speechless, almost losing his grip on his claymore. Did this sick, and twisted monster just call himself his name or is he dreaming? He thought more and more. The human infront of him could not be him or could it?

The Knight charged at the dark warrior with his claymore stirking his chest, and embeddeding the blade deep into the warriors chest. "I'm Knight-Commander Preliatus Mortalitas. There is no way in hell you're me." The Knight yanked the Claymore out of the warrior's chest. Streaming with hatred the warrior stood up and raised his past self from the ground. He threw him down the street and into the entrance of a metal gate. He took one step towards the knight. He doubled over in pain as he felt the impact the Knight just took. He slowly faded from reality for a moment before reappearing. The Knight stood up and charged at the warrior again. Slamming a fist into his chestpiece breaking it. The Warrior grabbed the Knight and slammed him down onto the stone street, and ignored the sudden pain. The Warrior brought up his heavy boot and stepped down onto the street. The Knight rolled away just in time. The Knight grabbed his Claymore again and charged at the Warrior. Slamming the claymore into his chest once again. Breaking through the plate and slicing through him, the blade protruding out from his back. The Warrior grabbed the Knight, clearly pissed off. The warrior grabs the head of the Knight and slowly clamps down on it. After feeling the head crunch in his hand he feels himself fade.


Awaking in a chamber filled with hourglasses. The warrior and the Knight both fully healed looked at eachother in anger. One thinking the other could not possibly be him, and the other not wanting to realise that he was once a good person.

Chromie sat infront of them tampering with a hourglass. "You two put up quite a time paradox. You know Naztheros you were not to mess with Ebonmaw in any way while in the past. It still pitties me that the only black dragon that I accepted into the Bronze flight would break that simple rule." Chromie said, her voice fading through time, and her body switching appearances. "You were the unwise one. Killing yourself in the past to prevent the most exciting future for yourself." Her voice pristine, and caring. Oddly enough.. as though she loved Ebonmaw sometime in the past. "I never was accepted into the bronze dragonflight! I was approached by hostilities, and not hospitality." Naztheros spoke in rage. Ebonmaw laughing jokingly at the situation, sensing the pain, and suffering his future self wanted to bring upon sweet Chromie. "Evil one. She speaks the truth. Back before I entered Stratholme to live amongst the humans.. I had a.. relationship with her. Now you're the lost one here. I'd never stick true to my flight after I've been accepted by such kindness of people. I want to know what happened to you." Ebonmaw stated boldly, and curiously. Wanting to know what happened with him in the future to make him such a prick. Chromie winked shyly at Ebonmaw acknowleding the fact he stated the truth. "Now Naztheros.. So much has happened to you. Very much. Lost a slave you eventually fell in love with. Only your blind to the fact that your the cause of her disappearance, and your decent into insanity!" Chromie said, raising her voice to almost draconic standards. "Since Ebonmaw here is needed for something in the future, and you Naztheros not exsisting right now. Only my chains of time are holding you here." Naztheros growled, forcing a muffled roar from his lips.

Chromie grabbed both hourglasses, although it is the same person, but not the same dragon. She poured Ebonmaw's golden sand with Naztheros' charcoal sand. She screwed the top back on and watched the effects. Naztheros disappeared from view to be replaced by the same knight, just in dark armor, but with the same sword. Cracked and broken. Ebonmaw looked at himself slowly change. Experiencing the times that he lived up to his title "The Deciever". He looked at the warrior finally stopping at the spot where thier armor almost matched. Both bright and golden, and while one had blonde hair done in a barbarian hair style. The other had a black obsidian hair in a High Elf foxtail hair style. "Naztheros you sick son of a bitch.. Tell me how I should expect the future!" Ebonmaw yelled at his future self. The Highlord questioned his responce. "Sick son of a bitch? Why place that on such a kind hearted warrior?" Chromie nodded at Highlord Preliatus. "Tell yourself in the past what not to do in Stratholme. That is the only time tinkering I will allow." Chromie said truthfully, as she did not want the insane abomination infront of her again that called itself Naztheros, instead of Ebonmaw. "Follow your son during the Culling of Stratholme, and don't go by yourself. Protect him with your life, but hide when you spot a Dreadlord. You will not be knocked out of conscienicous but you will be saved from Amesia and the teribble knowledge known as Naztheros. "Chromie screwed the cap on the Hourglass. The sands slowly trickling down to the bottem. "Chromie. I would love to stay and talk with you more, but could you send me back to where I'm usually at?" He choked on words trying not to expose to much of himself to the one in the past. Chromie nodded and Teleported him away. "Now.. Younger Ebonmaw. Remember what your older self said, and you will not become the crazed Baffoon that you met earlier. Ebonmaw nodded at Chromie as she sent him back.


Preliatus awoke in Stratholme polishing his claymore. It was another quiet knight, and expecting his son to come back from patrols through the city. Tired of waiting he fell alseep in the wooden chair with the Claymore on his lap. Unknownist to him that the Culling of Stratholme was tomorrow.

Posts : 20
Join date : 2010-03-31
Age : 27
Location : Lynnwood, Washington


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