Leapt from Ouroborus's head

[Skeletor]

Skeletor’s consciousness snapped back to reality, staring into pale whiteness. For a moment, the Conqueror of Eternia was only confused, but almost immediately, his perplexed countenance took on a much firmer look, as his empty sockets swelled with a red glow.

Skeletor leapt into a crouch, seething in fury, they had DARED to defy him still? Illidan’s forces were somehow even more incompetent than his own minions had been, how Dracula could be called the Scourge of the Moors with that lot ho had no idea. Those two primes, Ash and Kelly, had destroyed his machine and exposed his surprise attack. In the end he had scrambled to the surface of Darkshire, only to find that the accursed Ro-man had gotten their first! Skeletor’s nailed fists shook with fury as he thought of his foe’s non-chalance. The arrogant meathead had even… stabbed him through the chest…

At the very height of his rage, Skeletor’s anger ebbed as he reached down, his searching hands unable to find the hole he so very distinctly remembered. Looking down two facts were registered, and equally disturbing to the Warlock. Firstly, there was no wound where the spear had impaled his bowels, despite his vivid memories of just such an occurrence. Secondly, he appeared to be somewhat translucent. Against the white background of the Nexus, the fact had escaped his notice, but now as he saw the faint outline of his leg showing though his arm, there was no denying it. Skeletor was now more lost than anything else, glancing around in confusion, he noticed that he had been returned to that accursed place where he had defeated that hammer-wielding oaf.

Could he not even escape this prison by dying? Skeletor was unnerved. Was he so powerless now that he could not even have that minimal amount of control.  The Warlock turned to glance back at the large hour-glass that dominated the empty surroundings. The pale grains of sand were all but invisible in the oppressive brightness, but Skeletor got the distinct impression that they were flowing upwards. The Warlock pounded the ground in a fury, sunken to his knees in a fatalistic fury. He would not be rendered powerless like this! Staring down at his translucent fists, Skeletor focused his rage, projecting his will, summoning what he could of his eldritch powers. He would be solid again if nothing else. He would not be condemned to wander his prison in this ghostly state!

Skeletor strained, mandibles grinding as he forced himself to take a more solid form. Slowly, painfully, the glaze faded, and he began to look solid yet again. There was a hiss, like a release of pressure, and Skeletor gasped, chest heaving with the strain the action had taken. He sat there, on hands and knees, as the white-clad warriors that seemed ever to patrol the place approached.

“What d’you think, Ark? He a freshie?” asked one of them, his voice distorted by static.

“I doubt it,” replied the leader, shouldering his blaster rifle. “He doesn’t seem nearly panicked enough.” The Stormtrooper adjusted his mic to project more clearly. “Prime in the hood. Would you kindly state your identity and reason for being here?”

“Are you newly summoned, or have you been reincarnated?” The soldier asked, his squadron keeping their weapon’s ready, though not directly pointed at him.

Skeletor considered ignoring them. He was tired. Tired of not being strong enough, tired of losing to fools and bunglers! He slowly stood, turning to face the assembled stormtroopers. To their credit, most of them barely flinched at the sight of his face, though one or two of them did raise their blaster rifles in a foolish attempt at a threat. The Warlock still said nothing. A silent moment passed, for there was no wind in the sterile existence of the Nexus.

Ark moved slightly like he was coming out of a reverie. “If you won’t say anything, my orders are to bring you back to HQ for questioning…” the soldier paused, considering “…and…we might also be able to help you with tracking down whoever did that to you.”

It was a risky play, there was no telling what could set a prime off, particularly one as antisocial as this hooded nercon seemed to be. However, Ark was pretty sure that this guy wasn’t fountain fresh. And his sudden appearance seemed consistent with a recently broken death shroud. This was a chance to snag a prime after they had gotten their wits about them. He would have to play this carefully, but it was too big an opportunity to pass up. The Prime was considering, and Ark did his best to read the guy’s face. It didn’t help he had no skin on his skull.


“Oh really, now that does sound interesting indeed? Nyeheehee… There is one thing that I would like to clarify, I will be going to that HQ you mentioned. You can accompany me if you wish, but Skeletor goes where he chooses!”

Ark nodded and motioned for his crew to step out of the way. The prime stalked past them with an artificial strength that the soldier knew he couldn’t keep going. This was going to be interesting.