A trail by moon rays lit

[Skeletor]

Skeletor stared down at the buildings of Darkshire from atop the wall. A short distance up the street, the militia were assembling what amounted to a shield wall. Almost twenty of Darkshire’s finest were arranging their defensive perimeter, their cohesion surprising given the time of day and their lack of warning. Skeletor’s face grinned as always as he watched the soldiers clamoring into position. It was as easy as it had ever been. No matter if he had been stripped of his powers and dumped into yet another alien reality, he was still the one in control, and he was still the one who would conquer.
 
With a nudge he guided Panthor into a powerful leap, bounding down to the cobblestones below with a grace no bipedal being could possess. Panthor landed with a muted thud, tail swishing to balance with Skeletor atop his back. The Warlord stared down the soldiers with his empty sockets. “Greetings, warriors! I hear that you have prepared a welcoming party for your new ruler!” he cackled at the assembly. “I, Skeletor, Overlord of Evil and Ruler of Eternia, hereby lay claim to Darkshire! Let any who would dispute my rule, face me now in one on one combat!” The Skull-faced conquer proclaimed.
 
There was some unease in the Darkshire forces, and the shield-wall’s rigidity wavered as men and women glanced towards their compatriots, none feeling especially inclined to duel the unknown prime. There was a moment of silence, then one of the militia pointed towards something that Skeletor could not see, and a cheer went up along the line. Skeletor dismounted Panthor, as a red plumed helm crested the line of militia. The defenders of Darkshire respectfully parted as a statuesque paradigm warrior strode through. A large curved shield was rested easily in one arm, and a bronze-tipped spear, its weight evident in the heft of its sway.

“You want a Challenger? I can provide that, have no worry on that account.” The hulking figure of a man bellowed as he approached. Skeletor would have grinned more, were he able. To some observer’s the Spartan’s appearance could seem odd, but to Skeletor it looked exactly as he expected. The Warrior closed the gap between Skeletor and the shield-wall, dropping into a combat stance with ease. “You would threaten the people I have pledged to protect, now prepare to face the outcome of your choice.”

Skeletor cackled and swirled his havoc staff in the air, and a circle of flames swashed out, encircling the two in a ring of fire. “Then let us fight, without anyone to interfere!” Skeletor shouted, throwing his head back amidst cackling laughter. His mirth caught in non-existent throat however as he caught sight of his opponent, who had already closed the distance between them, large shield up and spear braced as he charged. In surprise Skeletor released a volley of magical blasts as he backpedaled, but the majority of the missiles simply impacted ineffectively against the large shield, and the ones that struck him barely seemed to faze the warrior as he approached. Skeletor dodged to the side as the Spartan pulled up short and delivered a volley of quick thrusts that the Warlock barely evaded. Leaping backwards, Skeletor began charging his Havoc staff, the eldritch energies swirling around the ram-skull head. He continued to backpedal, instantly regretting the circle of flames he had created. His opponent had claimed the center of the ring, and continued to press Skeletor without relenting. The Warlock gave a cry and released a concentrated blast of power at the Spartan. The hulking warrior grunted and leaned into his massive shield, his feet skidding on the cobblestones as he weathered the blast.

“How do you like that? You Tin-headed Meatbag!” Skeletor taunted, though his boasting dwindled as the Spartan straightened up, his shield smoking but otherwise looking practically unharmed. With a cry the man attacked again, the attack coming almost too quickly for Skeletor to see. With a desperate sweep, he managed to bring his havoc staff across and deflect the point of the spear away. His opponent did not stop the charge however, slamming the massive shield directly into Skeletor and knocking him to the ground. "Gah!" The warlock cried as his havoc staff skidded across the cobblestones and away from his grasp. Skeletor started to get up but found his action halted by the tip of an iron spear. He stared up at the warrior, the Spartan’s face was cold and impassive. Skeletor lifted a hand to fire magic, but a sharp stomp of a boot trapped his forearm painfully, pinning the arm back to the ground. “Wait! We can talk about this!” the panicking warlock shouted, but Atelos did not acknowledge his plea.

“Your gauntlet has been met, Lich. When you return to the Fountain, know that Darkshire is not a home for you, nor any of your kin.” The Spartan raised the spear and prepared to strike, “Begone from my city, monster.” The Spartan’s stab was interrupted however, as the massive purple form of Panthor barreled into the Defender of Darkshire, sending him sprawling. Atelos got to his feet quickly, using his spear for support. "A one on one duel, eh?" he spat. 

Skeletor immediately mounted the cat, summoned his havoc staff, and turned towards the walls. This fight was a loosing front; It was time to call a retreat. “You win this time, Ro-Man!” he shouted and spurred Panthor away. The great cat easily cleared the flames and bounded away. He would plan his assault more carefully next time. He needed minions, distractions to give him opportunities to trap his opponents. Panthor’s powerful muscles leapt atop the wall, and Skeletor glanced back as he prepared to escape. His eye sockets widened slightly in surprise as a spear, expertly thrown from Atelos’s grasp sailed towards them both. The spear struck true, piercing directly through Skeletor’s left thigh and into Panthor’s flank. The cat spasmed in pain, and the leap that should have taken them out of danger instead simply pitched them over the battlements.  They fell, Panthor managing to land on his feet, but Skeletor falling awkwardly to the ground nearby, the spear’s shaft snapping as he struck. Skeletor grunted in pain, "Watch what you're doing you flea-bitten coward!" he shouted as he crawled back into Panthor’s saddle.

They had been attacked while fleeing. The thought that a defender would push the conflict, and clearly intended to kill shook Skeletor slightly. The people of this realm were less foolish than the Masters of the Universe; he would have to be more careful about how he conquered this strange world. They were not even safe yet, Skeletor realized to his horror. Who was to say that Ro-Man would not continue to chase them? There would be no way of knowing when he was able to stop running! It was madness! With a much meeker, more cautious pace, the great cat and the warlock departed into the obscuring fog.