Chapter 8. Planning for the Future.
Skeletor walked silently through the hallways of the once luscious castle, a frown etched on his skeletal face as he stared at the fires that lit the halls. The flames flickered and danced on the candle chandeliers that lined the dark hallways of the Crystal Castle. Despite the light offered by the fires that hung above his head, it could barely pierce the thick darkness that enveloped the hallways.
He looked at the slightly swaying forms of the crystal guards, each guard fighting a battle against their own bodies as they tried to win the war against sleep. As Skeletor looked at the pony who was guiding him down the many halls, he noticed that the orange stallion also appeared to be beating off sleep deprivation with a twig. The guard’s eyes threatened to close permanently with each slow blink as he led Skeletor to his bedroom, fighting the urge to fall asleep mid step.
Skeletor turned his attention back to the lavish walls made of crystal, not noticing the subtlety of the love magic that was woven into the cracks of the castle. The hypnotic beauty that radiated off of the walls nearly lulled him into a blissful sleep that managed to calm his already shot nerves.
He was no one on Earth, just a directionless man who wanted to live until he was eighty. Now though, he was lucky if he’d live another eighty seconds. Skeletor still waited for a blade that never came, an angry guard who wanted to avenge King Sombra, or an army of citizens who despised his rule.
One of the things he feared most was the ponies uprising because he had said the Empire’s equivalent of, “Let them eat cake.” That dumbass line got a queen in his world beheaded when her subjects complained about not having any bread to eat, and Skeletor desperately wanted to avoid having his head placed on the chopping block for poor word choice.
The finance situation almost made Skeletor’s heart writher up and die as despair overwhelmed his mind. Money often led people to take drastic measures in order to attain wealth and power, the lower class clawing their way to the top through a multitude of methods, which could easily include his corpse being used as a stepping stone for someone who wanted it badly enough.
Hopefully the alchemists and blacksmiths could take the basic knowledge he had about steel and create at least a few bars of it. He only had the most basic of knowledge thanks to his science teacher’s absurd fixation with metals and incorporating them into his lessons and lectures, and Skeletor had been so tempted to let those memories of high school fade into the recesses of his mind. Thankfully, that annoyingly catchy song his teacher played on loop during study hall had made that nigh impossible, allowing him to call back on the knowledge that he kept hidden away at the back of his mind with the rest of his unimportant thoughts and memories.
Even one bar of steel could promise a great profit for the Empire, and give Skeletor a bit of breathing room before his new subjects came to smother him with demands. But if his plan didn’t work, he’d be paying his subjects/murderers in his own blood once they rose up to overthrow him.
As his thoughts took a grim turn towards every worst-case scenario, he failed to notice that the guard in front of him coming to a stop, causing him to accidentally bump the stallion's rear with his leg. The guard jumped at the physical contact and quickly galloped away from Skeletor as if he was about to be flailed.
“Oh! S-sorry,” Skeletor quickly apologized as he shouted to the stallion. His apology fell on deaf ears as the guard galloped down the hallway.
He briefly considered running after the pony, but quickly tossed that thought away with a powerful yawn. Skeletor turned his attention to the guard posted next to the door, noticing how the guard was suddenly much livelier and more attentive.
“Um… This wouldn’t happen to be my room, would it?” Skeletor asked as he pointed at the door.
“Yes, Lord Skeletor, these are your private chambers,” the guard replied stoically.
Skeletor barely noticed the hint of worry in the stallion’s voice and wouldn’t have assumed anything was wrong if it weren’t for the light shaking of the guard’s armor. Skeletor decided to leave before he ended up scaring the pony enough to run a sword through his chest. His girlfriend’s love of animals had taught him the importance of a fight or flight response and when he should avoid a scared animal, which was 99.999% of the time if he wanted to keep his fingers or, more importantly, his life.
He quickly opened the door and closed it behind him, allowing him to escape to the sanctuary of his new bedchambers as he felt the weight of recent events fall on him. Thrusted into a strange world, in a body that wasn’t his, and forced into a position of overwhelming power he didn’t want. While the idea of holding such power on Earth felt immensely appealing to him, the actual practice of ruling had been… Stressful, for lack of a better term.
Skeletor slid down the door frame as he leaned against it, holding his knees against his chest while he breathed in deeply.
“Fuck,” he said as he banged the parietal bone of his skull against the door. His invisible eyes lazily danced around the room as he lost himself in the mess of memories he had created in the last day and a half.
The candle that rested on the nightstand next to his new bed shone with a steady green flame, illuminating the interior of Lord Skeletor’s room with an ominous green glow. His eye sockets glanced at the royal sized bed with four posts that dwarfed his old one in length and width, but was much closer to the floor than he would have preferred, only standing a little bit taller than the tables in the dining hall.
He looked around the rest of the lavishly furnished room that was decorated with the finest silks and fabrics money could buy, or an evil tyrant could steal. It was more likely the latter of the two.
A large mirror sat on a wooden dresser across from the bed on the other side of the room. The wooden dresser sagged to the side as the wood struggled to stop the spread of rot that ate away at it. A wooden cupboard in a similar state of disrepair sat directly across from Skeletor on the other side of the room which Skeletor could tell only came up to his shoulders. The only wooden furniture that wasn’t rotting away was a bookcase that was lined with ancient tomes.
As far as Skeletor could tell, those were the only pieces of wooden furniture that he ran across in the castle, everything else was either made of crystal or platinum. It made sense, there weren’t a lot of trees to cut down for wood in the frozen tundra outside the Empire.
The final thing that Skeletor’s eyes landed on was a stain-glass window, right next to the wooden cupboard, that let streams of moonlight flow into the room. The image of King Sombra stared back at Skeletor with a sly grin on his face as he looked into Skeletor’s soul. Skeletor got off of the floor to walk towards the window glaring into the jade colored eyes of the grey colored stallion.
“You… You fucking did this, didn’t you?” Skeletor accused as he pointed a finger at the imitation of King Sombra.
It was the only thing that made sense to Skeletor, one minute he was buying a prop from a man in a leather hoodie, and the next he was in the middle of literally nowhere. And then, when he passed out, he was suddenly in front of the evil stallion in a void of darkness.
But why would King Sombra do that? Did he want a monster to serve him, did he purposefully make Skeletor look like the character he was dressed as at comic-con? Did he also mess with his memories to make him forget his real name and face? He could remember a few parts of his old body, like the mole on his right arm that was missing, the scar his cat gave him on his hand when he had stupidly pulled her tail, the discolored patch of skin that was on his knee that he could never explain, they were all gone. His skin was nearly flawless if he ignored the unnatural color and the darker patch of blue on his right arm where King Sombra hit him.
Sombra… He had stolen everything from Skeletor. He ripped him from his home, his family, his friends, everything. Skeletor felt his knuckles turn white as the grip around his Havoc Staff tightened. In a flash of fury, Skeletor smashed the window with his staff, letting shards of glass rain down to the streets. He continued taking his aggression out on the window, striking it with enough force to send the shards of glass flying across the street.
Skeletor stared at his handiwork with an exhausted gaze, several shards of glass stuck to the edge of the frame as more rays of moonlight poured through the gaping hole in his wall. Bathed in the light of the moon, Skeletor looked out to the Empire, hundreds of candle lights illuminating the few houses that withstood the test of time. His anger slightly diminished as his eye sockets caught the moon, it’s enchanting beauty reminding him of his home on Earth.
The angelic glow of the celestial body was perfectly framed by the alignment of alien stars that filled the sky. He felt his pent-up aggression melt away as his memories carried him back to a better time, a moment when he and his girlfriend Evelyn were stargazing, watching a meteor shower that he didn’t much care for at the time.
The outdoors were cold, the grass was too damp, he hadn’t brought a blanket since he assumed they would be sitting in their car, and the meteor shower was nothing too special. Sure, it was nice for a few moments, but it failed to capture that sense of childlike wonder he had when he had seen fireworks for the first time, or when he saw his first ever Super Moon. Watching a meteor shower meant almost nothing to him, and he might have not gone to see it if it weren’t for his girlfriend’s enthusiasm.
Evelyn was his complete opposite, a girl who lived life by doing things that made her happy, enjoying the beauty of nature and all the wonders the world had to offer. He didn’t like being adventurous, he didn’t like going outside, and he practically seethed whenever he had to spend time with people he didn’t know. But with her, none of that mattered. All that mattered was seeing the beautiful smile that graced her lips, watching her eyes light up with a glee that he envied, holding her delicate hands in his own.
“I love you,” He told Evelyn as he watched the stars reflect in her eyes.
“I love you too, Ke—" The rest of Evelyn’s sentence was cut off by the sounds of reality screaming in agony inside his brain.
“FUCK!” Skeletor exclaimed in the real world as the painful sensation of static wretched him from his happy memories and forced him to face his agonizing present.
He writhed in pain as he fell to his knees, clutching the sides of his skull as the shrill screams of something unnatural punished him for reliving a pleasant memory. Skeletor breathed heavily as the torturous sting started to die down, his chest heaved as he desperately tried to fill his lungs.
His anger was reignited by the horrible pain, and even though it didn’t run as brightly as it did before, he channeled that anger into his scepter subconsciously. Deep inside, Skeletor wanted nothing more than to rip Sombra apart again after he realized what the demon stallion did to him, and his scepter was more than happy to comply. Unfortunately, while the intent and reason for killing Sombra a second or even third time was clear, Skeletor simply didn’t have enough power for the scepter to grant his subconscious wish, so it did the next best thing and repaired the window.
The flash of blinding light above Skeletor drew his attention to the once destroyed window, allowing him to marvel at the artwork that had replaced it. Brilliant colors of glass mixed in unique shapes to form version of himself standing triumphantly over the corpse of a grey stallion as his free hand reached towards a blue and green sphere that rested just outside of his grasp. It was an enchanting display of work that mesmerized Skeletor not simply for its beauty but also for its magical nature.
After staring at the new window for a short amount of time, letting the pain from his punishment slowly diminish as he did so, Skeletor turned his attention towards his Havoc Staff. Spurts of green and black auras sparked off of the ram skull, fizzling out of existence once the strange energies dropped to the floor. Skeletor slowly stood up as he appraised the new window, quickly noticing that it was made out of the shards that he had smashed, leaving small flaws in the glass where parts of the picture didn’t properly align or where they left gaping holes to be filled by the sonic background of the night sky.
Skeletor’s eye sockets lingered on the small sphere that was placed at the peak of the window, staring at the unmistakable planet that he was born on. His fingers lightly pressed against the image of his home before it, and the rest of the window, fell apart when a stiff breeze blew it down.
A shard of green glass that had been used to make the image of his home fell to his feet and shattered when it hit the floor. The small shard was quickly buried under a pile of colorful glass as the rest of the window joined it on the floor, once again leaving a hole in Skeletor’s wall that allowed unfiltered moonlight to shine down on him.
He stood in stupefied silence with his hand still outstretched. A few tense moments passed before Skeletor’s anger once again broke through the surface and he let loose a shrill scream of pure hatred as he cursed everything for his pain. He took his scepter and began to smash the cupboard to pieces, taking out all his rage on the most destructible thing in the room. The wooden walls of the cupboard snapped apart with each swing of the Havoc Staff, the cupboard soon collapsed from its lack of support, allowing a cascade of red fur capes to fall out of it.
Skeletor barely took notice of the fabrics, too focused on destroying something while he screamed his heart out, all the while imagining that it was King Sombra with each swing.
“You fucking bastard! Fuck you and you’re godamn fucking-J-Just FUCK YOU! You piece of fucking shit, you mother fucking—” Profanity was woven into each word that was thrown from Skeletor’s jaw. While his knowledge of profanity was unfortunately limited, it did allow him to verbalize what he was feeling. Pure and unadulterated rage filled his veins as he continued attacking the furniture. When there weren’t any large pieces of wood left for Skeletor to smash he turned his attention to the rest of the room, looking for his next target as he continued to work out his aggression.
Skeletor quickly moved towards the dresser and reared back his arm to swing at it, before something in the mirror caught his eye. Or rather, the lack of something. He looked at a mirrored reflection of his room, his eye sockets darting back and forth between the room behind him and the mirror, hoping beyond hope that the mirror was playing a trick on him.
Finally, he looked fearfully back at the mirror, staring at the reflection of his room that didn’t have him in it. He continued to stare at the mirror, as if hoping to somehow find his missing reflection somewhere inside of it. His anger quickly faded as fear and mild curiosity began to consume him. His mind failed to process the concept of not seeing his reflection in a mirror, and he dropped his Havoc Staff as he backed away from the mirror.
His thoughts tried to reject the reality in front of him as his mind fought to find a hint of reason in the madness that suddenly made up his life. Skeletor felt himself grow sick as he stared at his missing reflection, bile threatened to rise from his stomach as he felt his body physically grow older with each passing second. Before anything worse could happen, Skeletor grabbed one of the many red fur robes that laid on the ground and threw it over the anomaly that threatened to tear his mind asunder.
“Out of sight… Out of mind,” Skeletor muttered to himself as he breathed a sigh of relief.
Skeletor could feel a headache starting to grow in his skull as he tried to dispel the memory of the mind-breaking… thing he saw. Even the memory alone of the reality distorting mirror caused Skeletor to feel sick to his core. He didn’t know why he couldn’t see his reflection and he didn’t want to know, a good amount of ideas were already going through his mind and he hated just about all of them.
It was just another thing to add to the ever-growing list of shit that made Skeletor’s life worse. First, he was forced to leave his home, then he lost his body, and now he was slowly losing his mind. Or maybe he had already lost it.
“No… No, it’s fucking real… Christ, this is all real…” Skeletor quietly said as he looked at the red fur cloak that hid his nonexistent reflection.
He picked up the Havoc Staff and backed away from the mirror, pointing his scepter at the mirror as if it would keep the anomalous properties of the mirror at bay. He slowly sat down on the edge of his bed with his scepter still pointed towards the mirror, unfortunately he hadn’t taken the height of the bed into account and quickly fell on his after misjudging the height of the pony sized furniture.
“Fuck!” He exclaimed as he fell on his back.
A blast of magic flew off of the ram’s skull at his sudden spike in confusion and fear, hitting the book case with a blast of concussive magic that destroyed a large section of the shelves. Dozens of books exploded into a flurry of burning pages that threatened to set the rest of the shelf on fire when the smoldering paper drifted towards the shelf.
Skeletor quickly leapt off of the bed and grabbed another one of the red fur cloaks to smother the fire before it began to spread and swallow the entire book shelf.
“Shitshitshitshitshit!” He repeated as he smacked the small fires with the spare cloak before the fire could grow too large.
The fires soon died after Skeletor beat them off, leaving behind a partially burnt bookcase and several badly damaged books.
“Good fucking work, numbskull,” He said to himself as he assessed the damage he caused. Several books were lightly burned and an entire shelf had completely collapsed, causing an entire row of books to litter the floor.
Skeletor winced as he looked at one of the more badly damaged books, which had been reduced to a pile of loose pages and a broken spine and decimated set of covers. Another book, or maybe even more than one book, was turned into smoldering confetti thanks to his little light show. Bending over, Skeletor picked up one of the few books that weren’t damaged beyond repair, only having a slightly singed cover and a few bent pages.
“Well... Technically they’re mine so… I think they’re mine now, at least, so maybe nobody’ll care that I did…. This… I hope,” Skeletor said as he read the cover.
Skeletor almost scoffed at the title, “Magical Theory and Practice” but the memories of the past day and a half hit him over the head like a baseball bat, painfully reminding him that he was in a world full of magical ponies in a magical castle… That used magic… Meaning that they’d probably have hundreds of magical spells. Magic that he had just demonstrated that he could wield in some capacity.
Magical spells that could theoretically send him back home.
A wide smile split across his skeletal features at the revelation that he could use magic to send himself back to Earth and he quickly scanned the pages for any relevant information. It wasn’t long before Skeletor found a glossary of spells and saw the answer to all of his problems, teleportation.
“ ‘Picture a familiar setting in your mind, then pick a specific area of the location of to appear at. Failure to do so may lead to appearing inside, on top of, or under something that may result in severe injury or death.’ ” Lord Skeletor read aloud.
“ ‘Teleportation can only be done with a basic understanding of the layout of the location, and should only be done with the thought of the location in mind. The spell caster must want to have the absolute desire to go to their location in order to teleport.’ Check. ‘Blah, blah, must have an ample amount of magic within them,’ Big maybe. ‘and should only be used as a means of traveling distances that can be measured in yards. The minimum space needed to teleport is one yard. Teleporting an inch away from the previous location or half a yard could result in….’ Oh fuck... Okay, got it, laziness is a big no-no. That's fine, I'm okay with that… Fuck the poor bastard who discovered that,” Skeletor quietly muttered as he tried to push the mental images of the side effects out of his mind.
“Alright! Let’s do this!” He shouted as he tossed the book aside and held his scepter towards the ceiling.
Skeletor closed his eyes as he concentrated on a mental image of his home on Earth. His memories painted a perfectly accurate portrait of his room and he focused on imagining himself there.
Energy pulsated through the Havoc Staff as it’s master’s wishes were carried through it, magic gathering around the golden horns of the ram skull like a superconductor. Naked to the eyes of any mortal, arcane symbols formed in a unique pattern to travel through the seams of time and space without breaking the overall fabric of reality. An orange oval portal appeared before him, glowing with a warm energy that reminded him of his mother's embrace.
He was completely petrified by the distortion in reality that stood before him, forced to stare in awe as the space that submerged reality and time danced in front of his eye sockets. Overwhelming wonder and astonishment washed over him as his gaze lingered on the edges of the portal, observing the bent parts of reality clumping together around the portal like a picturesque frame.
The swirling portal sent Skeletor into a trance like state as the puncture in reality emanated an enchanting aura. It called to something inside him, filling him with an immense feeling of love and acceptance that he refused to ignore. It wasn’t a hyperbole to say that he was draw to it like a moth to a flame, ignoring the dangers he knew were there in order to get closer to the concept of perfection and grace itself.
Skeletor was thankfully able to shake himself out of his hypnotic state and reappraised the orange portal in front of him. He had no idea if the portal actually worked, if it would send him home or send him six feet underground, literally and metaphorically. For all he knew, the portal was just a wall of plasma that gave off the illusion of being a bottomless pit of warm hues that mixed into a sea of desire, singing a promising song of safety that slowly began to pull him back into his trance.
Skeletor slapped himself across his cheek bone as he realized that he was falling back into a daze, allowing him a few more moments of clarity before he inevitably became too fixated on the beauty of the portal to think straight.
He couldn’t delay it any longer. His possibly one and only chance of heading home was a few feet away from him. He would have preferred to stay in the castle, learn some more about teleportation, and then get out of dodge, but the risk of being overthrown and beheaded by his subjects didn’t allow him the pleasure of time. Besides, his family were probably worried sick about him, and he needed to get back to them before they declared him legally dead. He refused to let them worry sick about him, or worse, think that he actually did die.
After taking a few steps away from the portal to get a running start, Skeletor took off and sprinted towards the portal.
“SO LONG, WONDER-HELL!” Lord Skeletor shouted with wicked glee before he leapt through the portal.
Skeletor was glad that he took a running jump through the portal since the momentum felt like the only thing that carried him through the void. Skeletor felt himself get the equivalence of sea-sickness from floating in the infinite space for somewhere between a millisecond and eternity. Skeletor could taste sound, see smells, and feel the warm embrace of the portal become bone-chillingly numb in his heart.
Hours passed in a matter of seconds for Skeletor once he emerged from the other side of the portal, falling flat on his face against a well-placed carpet that somewhat managed to soften the blow. He groaned as he stood up from his position, forcing his muscles to find feeling in his legs to help him stand up. He was forced to lean against the Havoc Staff as he stood up, using it as a third leg to keep himself balanced on his two jelly-like legs.
Skeletor heard the sound of someone gasping behind him and turned to look at a white stallion clad in platinum armor gaping at him. The guard’s eyes widened as he looked at the shrinking portal, his gaze rapidly moving from Skeletor to the vanishing hole in reality.
"My lord, what was that?!"
“Uhhhh… What was what?" Skeletor asked as he looked at the petrified guard.
"T-the orange thing you stepped out of! … Sir," The guard tacked on as he reigned in his outburst.
"Oh, that thing. I... was testing my divine abilities in this realm," Lord Skeletor explained as he attempted to exude an aura of confidence and regality.
"What was it?"
"A portal. I was attempting to travel somewhere, but ended up in the throne room instead. I'll need to test it out more."
“Oh, uh… Alright, do you need somepony to escort you back to your room, sir?”
“No, I… I can do it myself,” Lord Skeletor replied as he tried to open another portal that could send him home.
As he stepped through the portal, he went through the similar feelings of sea sickness and nausea. Fortunately, the second time he went through the portal felt more diluted than the first time.
He soon fell into one of the many piles of snow that filled the streets below his window. On the street below, he could see right where his bedroom was thanks to the new window that his scepter made. The brief smile that image brought to his face quickly melted back into a frown as he attempted to concentrate.
“Okay… Let’s try this again…” Skeletor muttered as he opened another portal to send him home without much fanfare.
Like the other portal, it completely failed and only managed to open a hole in reality that led back to his bedroom. He barely even noticed the odd sensation of going through folds in reality the third time and quickly raised the Havoc Staff to try again but was stopped by a sudden wave of fatigue that threatened to overwhelm all of his senses.
The room spun around Skeletor as he dropped to his knees, feeling the air being forcefully dragged out of his lungs by some unseen force. He felt his legs turn into soft rubber under his own weight, his arms becoming little more than a pair of table legs to keep himself somewhat upright, and his head began to swing in a sea of delirium and confusion. Skeletor felt tears leak from his eye sockets and he struggled to keep his body from failing him, desperately trying to claw at his non-existent throat to force some oxygen back into his body.
When his body finally began to cooperate with his mind, he filled his lungs with haggard breaths, fighting the urge to spill the contents of his stomach all over the floor of his bedroom as he did so. It was an uphill battle for Skeletor as he fought tooth and nail to reclaim some sense of normalcy over his conflicted and hurt body.
Skeletor’s arms eventually gave out under him, causing him to lay prone on the floor for what felt like hours as air filled his lungs and tears spilled from his eye sockets. He wasn’t sure how long it was until he regained feeling in his arms and legs, though if he had to guess he would have said an hour or so since he was pretty sure he blacked out at some point during his body’s latest attempt to drive him to his mental breaking point. The third one that night alone with doubtlessly many more to follow if he didn’t get back to Earth soon.
Still feeling the lingering symptoms from going through three magical portals, Skeletor slowly crawled over to the book he discarded and looked at its contents again. When his vision became clear enough to read the next few pages, Skeletor stumbled across a section titled, “drawbacks of magic” and found a section relating to teleportation.
" 'Teleportation is reliant on the stamina and endurance of the spell caster. The distance traveled between locations will be instantaneous, but many advantages will be negated by the energy that is exerted. Teleportation is not a displacement of place, but of time. It uses the physical stamina of the spell caster to take them to a location faster at the price of using the energy they would have needed to gallop there.’ Wait… So… I would need to be able to run to Earth if I wanted to get there. Nononono, there has to be something more here,” Skeletor said before he began skimming through the passage for any hint that there was still hope.
As Skeletor began to feel the effects of his spell casting take a more drastic toll on his body, he closed the spell book and slowly got back up to place the book on one of the few shelfs that remained in the bookcase.
“Fuck it. Fine, a problem for tomorrow,” Skeletor stated as he walked back to his bed.
Once he got under the warm covers of the bed, he licked his fingers and pinched the green flame to extinguish the candle on his nightstand. The room quickly descended into darkness as the light of the fire faded and the glow of the moon became obscured by wandering clouds, letting the shadows of night obscure the world around him as he laid in bed. Through the darkness, he could see the familiar shapes of the bookcase and the mirror, which he quickly averted his eyes from as he tried to forget about the disturbing mirror.
He closed his eyes to fully bask in the darkness and buried himself under the blankets of his bed. Skeletor found solace in the memories that weren't blocked off from his mind, using their memories as a light at the end of the tunnel to give himself hope. He remembered the smiling faces of his friends and family, of his half-brother Rand, his mother, and Evelyn. His family fueled his motivation, allowing the lingering pain in his body to dull as he distracted himself with his final goal.
He could play the role of king for a while, bullshit his way through it and convince the crystal ponies that he actually knew what he was doing.
He’d simply bide his time, learning as much as he could about his abilities and strengthen his power until he found a way to get back to Earth. Even if it took years for him to get strong enough, he’d find a way to go back home.
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Ah yes, MAGIC! I Cannot wait to see what shenanigans our boi Tor gets up to to bullshit his way through being a powerful king.
The Havoc staff seems to have a mind and will of its own. So does that mean if left unattended it will protect Skeletor from attacks he can't see when he's asleep?
Interesting!!!!!
Great Story, So Far.
10155332
Originally it was given to Keldor by Faceless One as means to protect His daughter. Keldor becoming a demonic creature was unplanned.
Hey wanted to say I am loving this and hope you continue work on it.
Its am interesting concept done in mostly serious tone, and you have extremely good story pacing.
So many fics seem to either rush through stuff or get bogged down in over explanation.
I feel for the guy, if I was in his shoes I'd feel the same way.
Nice!
yay more skeletor!
Another amazing chapter, as usual.:D
It seems that the MC experienced a part of the real Skeletor's memories...or is it his own?
10157654
He seem only to inherit 2002 skeletor's anger issues
So he's not even considering the guy at the stall sent him there? Huh, I'd probably blame the guy at the stall if I were in his shoes.
10159101
I gonna hate myself for this. maybe he is a bonehead
10159101
All he remembers is a normal looking guy giving him a sweet looking prop. The only magical thing he's seen so far are the ponies and his magic.
10176422
And from what we can tell this guy isn't a brony or has any basic information about the show or the fandom, so he wouldn't know about the Displaced or Merchant
10159101
Eh, if given the choice to blame a horse deamon or a creepy guy I would probably Blane the deamon
He's insane.
Edit: if you don't get it. Look at this.
10249607
Eeyup. That is the definition of insanity. Doing something again and again, expecting something different to happen.
Who would have thought that teleportation is one of the best spells in arsenal of a muscle mage?
Well, right after Fist and Leg... or ramming someone over the head with a golden ram skull on a stick in this case.
10343336
That's actually not definition of insanity. It's overused cliche and it describes gambling better than insanity.
Damn fine chapter. Odd... I don't know the series but is the lack of a mirror reflection part of skeletors lore?
Wonder what abilitlys and skills he has...
Actually almost certainly never said that. That started with Paris newspaper during the Revolution and because there was no fact check most everything was made up to sway to a side. In this case the anti monarchy side. No other evidence exists that she ever said that or would have reason to say that and ample evidence exists of ulterior motives of those who pushed those rumors and many cases where they pushed rumors that we proved to be false later as well
10891154
Yeah, I found that out a few weeks ago while googling the quote for the latest chapter. I know it's inaccurate, but now Skeletor canonically believes that's the truth, just as I had when I was writing those chapters. Without any humans to correct him, I'll have to leave him a bit ignorant of the actual truth. Sorry if that may annoy you at any point.
Licked his fingers? How would he do that?
Magic seems to work quite differently here. Anyway, shouldn't be teleported instead of opening the portal?
Thinking with Portals? This has great combat potencial...
Brute forcing dark magic can't be healthy...
Unless you face your own shadow, you will continue to see it in others.
Because the reflection of the world around you is a reflection of yourself.
Cannon Fodder has further noone else to blame and there for his misdirected anger is upon anyone remotely fitting it.
I wonder if Skeletor has to face his own shadows or that of his character in the future.
He does need to cope, I look forward to him figuring his shit out.