A world without He-man

[Skeletor]

Skeletor rode with determined purpose. He would not be held prisoner to such paltry foes, not when they were paying so little attention. The fools, as soon as the strange white soldiers had arrived he was treated as inconsequential. He would show them the error of their ways. But for now he had to focus on making good on this opportunity to escape. He glanced behind, noting that three riders were still following. The Strange girl from before and two of the accursed allies of that Thor. They were clearly more experienced horsemen, and they were steadily gaining on Skeletor as the four of them left the growing battle behind. Skeletor wasn’t sure where he was planning to go, but the urgency with which the two warriors pursed him suggested it was not somewhere they wanted him to be. All the more reason to go then. The warriors were proving irksomely persistent however, he would need to do something about them…
 
Skeletor pulled his horse to a halt, perhaps harder than he should have, for the horse reared and Skeletor nearly fell from his saddle. The Warlock steadied himself and turned to face his hunters.  the two pursuers also pulled to a halt, eyeing the prime warily. The girl was not riding her horse so much as simply staying off the ground while it carried her. As she caught up, the horse showed no signs of stopping, its nostrils flaring as it charged blindly away from the battle. Making a quick decision, the prime let herself drop from the horse as she neared the stand-off, managing to land more or less on her feet.
 
One of the Camelot soldiers, another of those ‘Elves’ if the large pointed ears were anything to go by, addressed the Warlock with a clear caution.  “Stop this madness, prime! We were here to assist you!” he called out, as his companion, a human in equally well-used chainmail, pulled out a crossbow. The man was not so foolish as to point it directly at Skeletor, but the hooded prime took note of the action. “We will give you one chance to come back to Camelot with us. Maybe you can explain your actions to the Commander. Though I would doubt it” the elf added under his breath as he stared down the skeletal face of his quarry.
 
“Back to Camelot?” Skeletor asked with what seemed to be almost mocking surprise, “How will we get there when your friends have all fled?” The two warriors looked back to see the Kingdoms forces retreating in a semi-organized fashion through the gate, harried the whole way by the Imperial assault. Taking advantage of their momentary dismay, Skeletor raised his staff and began to charge a blast.

To their credit, the warriors returned their attention to the prime sooner than Skeletor was expecting. The human leveling his crossbow, while the elf pulled out a very antique-looking pistol. “Not a move.” The Elf ordered. Skeletor considered firing the blast anyway, hoping he could take the hit and finish the other one.
But there was no telling what the green-haired girl would do.

She had fought with the white-clad soldiers briefly, but Skeletor had been too distracted to assess her abilities. She seemed far too at home in this strange a situation to assume she would be someone he could easily overpower. With a slow, deliberate action, Skeletor let his havoc staff drop, bouncing slightly as it connected with the marble-like floor of the Nexus. At the Elf’s next command, he dismounted, hands out and open. The Fools, to assume he would surrender to such lowly rabble as themselves…  
 
Skeletor began amassing what power he could, making sure that his actions were invisible to those not trained in the Arcane arts. The two warriors kept their weapons trained, but the elf risked another glance back towards the Gate. The Imperial forces had pushed the rest of Camelot’s warriors back, but seemed hesitant to press the attack further. There was no indication that they had spotted the four of them here in the distance, though there was no way to be sure of that. “They seem to be pulling back from the Gate,” he said to his companion. “I think we’ve got this situation under control,” he said gesturing to Skeletor and Rin, who was simply standing there pleased with herself for having kept up during the horse race. “Perhaps we can take these two…” He trailed off as he felt his arm lifting.
 
“One shouldn’t leave loaded weapons unattended…” a voice said gleefully as the Elf glanced back from the gate. Looking in surprise he saw his own pistol aimed directly at his companion, whose crossbow was aimed at him as well. He glanced from his flintlock, which refused to move, to his fellow warrior who seemed equally unable to budge his weapon. “People can get hurt when their Arms aren’t looked after.” The Elf felt a force pushing his finger, moving it closer to the trigger despite his best efforts to resist it.

A crossbow twanged, its sound drowned out by the sharp crack of the flintlock firing. The Elf gave a cry of pain, and his arm was released, dropping to his side as he clutched his forearm where the bolt had struck.  Through pain-misted vision he could see his companion, slumped over in his saddle, a bloody spot in his stomach growing redder as he watched. The Skeletal prime stood impassive, his constant grin unwavering. “You… Monster…” the elf managed to growl.
 
“That’s hardly original,” the prime laughed as his hands glowed with eldritch energy, “But then I don’t know why I would expect anything more from such paltry opposition.” He mused, before firing a blast of energy directly into the elf’s chest, knocking from the saddle to crash heavily onto the Nexus floor.
 
Skeletor turned away from the elf's smoking body, his havoc staff flying back to his hand.  it did not matter whether they were dead or not, they wouldn’t be chasing him any longer. He glanced at his destination, a strangely mossy archway, whose gray stone stood out in the stark whiteness of the Nexus. The Warlock was planning to remount when he remembered the Green-haired girl. He turned to regard her, eyes glowing with red balefire. He was done with interruptions. “Your move, Girl.” He said evenly.