He-Mon and the Monsters of the Omniverse

[Skeletor]

Skeletor wandered through the frozen wilderness with a bitterness festering in his heart. The parting with Wiess had been long overdue, as the girl still clung to a notion of heroics despite the darkness that was clearly growing within her. Perhaps in a few more years, she would be more willing to join his kingdom. For now, the heavily wounded prime needed a place to lay low, a lair from which to plan his next attack against Nebula. That idiot doctor had not yet found the main lair from which Nebula was orchestrating these attacks, and until such a time, Skeletor felt no compulsion to further risk his own neck. He needed minions, spies and pawns that he could send to do these things FOR HIM. What a sorry state he was in if he needed to fend for himself in this strange world.

These dark thoughts hovered over his brooding as Panthor trudged through the snow, too grumpy to do more than sullenly march on. The snowstorm was as strong as ever, and to the travelers’ dismay it seemed to be getting only more powerful as they travelled farther into the verse. Skeletor scowled up at the weather. In Eternia, this paltry snowstorm would be a simple trifle to banish, or at least to mold around himself without obstructing his travel. Yet here in this accursed prison he could not be so frivolous with his power.

Through the blinding snowstorm, Skeletor thought he could spy the crumbled remains of some delapidated structure, a shelter from the storm if nothing else. As he and Panthor drew closer it became clear that this ruin was part of a larger collection, indeed a veritable city that had been claimed by the snow. Skeletor dismounted, but didn’t use enough care while doing so, and his leg nearly buckled as a jolt of pain shot up his leg. The Warlock grimaced, “That nimrod Nebula will pay for this!” he muttered to himself slamming a fist against the nearby wall. The action dislodged a buildup of snow from the roof which swamped the injured prime, and caused Panthor to leap away in surprise.

“Blasted SNOW! I will not be made a mockery!” Skeletor fumed, purposelessly. This was why he never chanced real injury if he could help it. The rightful ruler of Eternia needed rest, he needed a chance for his wounds to mend. Even a prime’s advanced healing wouldn’t be enough after the beating he had taken in saving this wretched flurry-infested verse. But getting that rest would require him to abandon his revenge, halt his schemes, wait for time to pass him idly. He-man and the Masters of the Universe thought him a coward for fleeing conflicts as quickly as he did. In truth Skeletor simply had better things to do than deal with the aftermath of a mistake.

The warlock struggled inside of the most intact building he could find, and paused, noting the very intact campsite that he had stumbled into, its inhabitants seemed tribal, and it looked like all five of them were away at the moment. In that snowstorm, he could probably have been within striking distance and not even have known they were there. The fireplace’s embers were still warm, and it was only a simple spell for Skeletor to reignite the blaze. Panthor lumbered into the building after him, squeezing through the doorway and immediately settling next to the fire, completely unconcerned with any new scents she could detect.

Skeletor also elected not to concern himself with the owners of the camp, confident that if it came to blows they would know his power. He sat near the fire, and with no better recourse to divert his attention began fiddling with his scanner. He had accepted the item from Dr. Regal with barely more than a moment’s thought, quite sure that the Imperial scientist had been concerned only with securing the safety of the world. Now that he stopped to think about it, there had been little to no questioning to his intentions with the devices, especially given that there had been mention of the power that the scanners could contain. His own stolen power seemed to be nearly gone, expended to destroy the villains of Nebula. And he hadn’t gotten any more out of it! The mistake continued to gnaw at Skeletor, as he sat by the fire. Panthor had fallen asleep, now snoring quite lazily in the flame’s glow. But Skeletor’s mind was in tumult, so deeply emmeshed that he almost didn’t realize that the camp’s owners had returned. Skeletor rose to his feet, wincing as imperceptibly as possible. Four hunched figures with large tusks and even more prominent mohawks had entered the building, spears in hand, and a large creature that Skeletor didn’t recognize hanging from a pole between two of them. Their largest, whom Skeletor expected was the leader took a step towards him.

“That’s a big cat, ‘Mon. Wha’chu doin here, eh? You wanna axe!”