Legends Never Die

Chapter 2: The Gathering
	
	The sun was at its peak in the Eternian sky, he noticed; the light shown on his armored back as he swung his sword in a wide arc.  It was a futile gesture, he knew, but it caused the Sand Demons to pull back a bit, giving him room to breathe.  They quickly pushed forward again, their gray-skinned humanoid bodies surging into the attack.  He’d taken the contract on the skinny little bastards almost a week ago; finally, after a considerable amount of tracking, he’d hunted down the nest: a small cave at the base of a hillside near Brutimm.  Unfortunately, taking the nest meant sparing with the whole damn colony.
	They came at him six or seven at a time, swinging wooden clubs or trying to scratch him with with razor sharp claws.  He fought through the initial hordes, cutting down the ones he could.  He was quickly surrounded; one or two tried to sneak up on him, not realizing that was impossible, and falling just as easily as their comrades.  For twenty minutes he fought, until his emerald-colored armor was coated in purple, sticky blood.  Finally, the tide of Sand Demons slowed.  
	He kept swinging until every one lay dead or dying on the ground. His arms burned, but he couldn’t risk leaving one alive.  His eyes surveyed the area.  It looked secure.  All that was left was to crawl into the nest itself and flush out the young. The excercise seemed a little beneath an mercenary of his caliber, but he’d made a contract.  Besides, he could use the extra money.
	He bent down to peer into the nest’s entry, looking for sudden traps, when the sky itself seemed to grow darker.  He caught a movement out of the corner of his periferial eye; he turned quickly, drawing his broadsword in the process, putting the tip its blade at the base of the intruder’s neck.  He looked up to see black and purple robes.  And a skull underneath the wide hood.
	“So sorry to interrupt,” Skeletor said.  “But I have an offer for you, mercenary.”
	The man stood up, his eye raging.  His blade never left its place at Skeletor’s throat.  “And this offer is so important it couldn’t wait for me to finish here?”
	“Yes,” Skeletor said simply. 
	“Funny man,” the mercenary replied.  “Do you even know who I am?”
	“Tri-clops, master assassin, mercenary-for-hire, and one of Eternia’s better swordsmen-if my information is accurate.”
	The blade lowered slightly.  “Huh.”  There was a slight pause.  Tri-clops sheathed his weapon.  His calmest eye slid into place over his face.  “Look, just let me finish up here, and I’ll listen to anything you say.”
	“Sorry, but time is of the essence.”
	Tri-clops studied the cave’s entrance from the back of his eye.  No change that he could detect, and telescopic vision was coming up nill for up to twenty feet.  
	He sighed.  “Fine.  What have you got?”
	“Direct, aren’t you.  It’s a simple request, really: I need soldiers, lieutenants to help me regain my throne.”
	“Regain?”  Tri-clops looked puzzled.    
	“Absolutely,” Skeletor replied.  “And in return for your services-that is, on completion of the contract-I will offer you lordship over any territory in Eternia.”
	“If you gain control of the throne,” Tri-clops countered.  “Risky proposition, friend.  High potential for loss-risk just might exceed the profit margin.”
	“So you’re the kind of man to play it safe,” Skeletor said thoughtfully.  “I can respect that.”  He pulled a small pouch from beneath his robes, tossed it the mercenary.  “Consider this a down payment, then.”
	Tri-clops opened the bag.  He looked shocked.  “This...this is solid plainium.  There must be thirty or forty coins in here.”
	“A small compensation, I realize,” Skeletor said evenly.  “But as I said, you will be given much more.  Until then, you can expect a money pouch this size at every seventh sundown while I retain your services.”
	Tri-clops suppressed a grin.  His usual going rate was barely half of that.  But business was business, and he was already contracted out.  “Listen, guy-”
	“Skeletor,” the man said, his voice suddenly cold.  “Lord Skeletor.”
	“Sorry.  Skeletor, I got a contract I got to finish up here.  Brutimm paid in full up front to get rid of this infestation-”
	“Cardinal Fisto?  That doddering old fool hired you for pest control?” Skeletor sneered.  “Besides, even his Lordship must answer to Randor,” he added, saying the last word like it was tinged in poison.  “And very soon, he will answer to me.”  
	Tri-clops took one last glance at the cave’s entrance.  He’d never left a contract unfinished, not in fifteen years.  But then again, this was a lot of money.
	Hell.  There was a first time for everything.
 	Tri-clops grinned, and stuck out his hand.  “You have a deal.  Lord Skeletor.”
*	*	*
	Prince Adam walked with Cringer outside the palace walls.  Two days had passed since he had been given the Power Sword.  It hung visibly from his belt, but no one noticed it.  Somehow, it didn’t catch attention.  Probably another effect of the magic, he thought.
	Adam leaned against the palace walls and remembered how he had come home early that next morning, dispersing the magics that transformed him and trying to sneak past the palace guards.  It hadn’t worked.  The captain immediately sent word to his parents, who ran to the front of the palace in their night clothes just to chew him out.  His father had been so angry: screaming and pointing, yelling curses and assigning a myriad of punishments.  Adam was a disgrace to the family, he said.  Adam was out of the will, he said.  Adam was no longer allowed to leave the palace without a proper military escort, he said.  And when his father was done, his mother, tears in her eyes, made a simple comment about the responsibilities of a prince and walked away.
	But neither of them understood that he knew his responsibility now; not only that, but he now had the power to implement it.  He fingered the hilt of the Sword, remembering the magic coursing through him, the strength it gave him.  He could do so much more than rule now.  He could protect the people of Eternia, not just command them.  By God, he was a hero.
	But he certainly didn’t feel like one.  Not as Price Adam, anyway.  Price Adam was a child; a pampered, selfish child who understood nothing of the real world.  But the knowledge and experience of Eternia had touched him, had coursed through him.  Now he knew his destiny.
	He gave one last look at the palace.  His parents would soon find the note he’d left in his room, saying that he’d left to explore all of Eternia, that he would return when he felt worthy of the crown.  They would be upset, of course, but this quest was important.  It was necessary.
	Adam called to Cringer, who was lying a few meters off; the cat came running up to him, then chased him as he ran towards the woods near his home.  No, he corrected himself, the woods near the palace.  It wasn’t his home anymore.
	When the pair reached the wood’s edge, Adam looked down at his friend.  “We can’t go back, you know,” he said.  “This really is it.  You can leave if you want.”
	Cringer tilted his head, but didn’t move.
	“Okay, pal,” Adam said, scratching him behind the ears and allowing himself an inward sigh of relief.  He hadn’t been looking forward to doing this alone.
	Adam took a deep breath, let it out slowly.  Then he pulled the Power Sword from its scabbard, pointed it high in the air, and shouted the words.  The lightning flashed, warming his insides, then dimmed.  He looked at his companion.  Battle Cat shook his furry head under the armor, then offered the feline equivalent of a smile.
	He-man grinned back, then once again slid the weapon into his scabbard.  He rubbed his chin with his hand as he considered his next move.  The Sorceress had said to seek out allies in the Cohn Forests, he remembered.  Cohn was to the south, at more than two days journey on foot.  
	He-man mounted his new steed, sliding easily into the saddle that had been built into Battle Cat’s armor.  He was a little surprised that the animal could now easily hold his weight-but then again, the Sword’s magic held a lot of surprises.  
	“We’re going south, pal,” he said.  And with a short bound, they were off.
*	*	*	
              The joints in his knees whirred and squeaked in protest as he ran beneath the moonlight.  His heavy booted feet made dull packing sounds as they pounded against the land.  His lower jaw ground into the flesh of his face, causing it to bleed.  But he kept running.
	He risked a quick look aound, sending off a few plasma rounds from his right arm in the process.  He could hear the Hounds gaining on him, but he kept up the pace.  Thankfully, it was a dark and starless night, and the ground beneath his feet was covered in bushes and stray vegetation.  The night-vision sensors he’d had installed a few months back were working beautifully, giving him almost perfect vision in the darkness.  They were the only thing keeping him ahead of his pursurers.  But even this small advantage would soon run out, and he knew it.
	Theft was not an unusual occurance in Etheria, he reflected.  It was practically legal, if you didn’t get caught.  But he had slipped up somewhere, and had accidentally moved some merchandise that belonged to Emperor Hordak’s adopted daughter.  And screwing with Hordak meant only one thing: the Hounds.
	So he ran.  He’d tried to leave the planet, but shipyards had been alerted to him;  barely escaping an ambush by the Emporer’s foot soldiers, he’d fled to the country instead.  Unfortunately, the Hounds had caught up with him after only a few weeks, burning the loft he’d aquired and even now chasing him through the fields behind it.   
	As he ran he realized something was amiss-like the land was swimming under his feet.  His auditory sensors were at maximum imput, so he heard it first: a low whine, followed by what sounded like air tearing.  He picked up an increase in ozone about a click in all directions.  Then something registered on his left optical scope: a thin purple streak of energy, floating in the air about five meters ahead and to the east of him.  He slowed his pace and turned off the night vision so the light wouldn’t harm the interior sensors.  He stepped up to the energy streak, panic at his current predicament fading as he reached the oddity.  
	Suddenly someone was behind him-he turned quickly, raising his arm to send off another volley of plasma fire, but something stopped him. His arm froze at his side.  He tried to take a step forward, realizing that, in fact, his entire body was paralysed.  
	“Can’t have you doing that, cyborg,” Skeletor said.
	“Who...are...you?” he asked straining against the power that somehow held him in place.
	“You will soon learn, Trap Jaw,” Skeletor continued.  “Also, I’d suggest you don’t struggle to much.  The constriction spell only gets tighter as you move.”
	“You...you know...who I am?” he grunted.
	“I know much more than that,” Skeletor said.  “You’ll soon have a chance to find out.”
	Trap Jaw pushed his audio receptors up: the Hounds were gaining.
	“Great.  You...one of Hordak’s...men?”
	“Hardly.  In fact, I’ve come to offer you something of a reprieve.”  Skeletor pointed at the floating strip of light with the head of his staff.  “That is a portal to my dimension.  I’ll allow you passage...if you agree to serve me.”  He grinned.  “Feel free to take your time.  I’m in no hurry.”
	“Sure.  Whatever.  Just let me go.”  Trap Jaw could hear his pursuers gaining; they couldn’t be more than a click off.
	Skeletor sighed.  “I’m not senile, you know.  I can promise you this: the instant you show any sign of treachery, I will kill you myself.  I need someone to lead my troops; a general, if you will.  You will do nicely.  Now consider: will you serve me?  Or should I leave you to your fate?”
	Trap Jaw thought about the stories he’d heard of people captured by the Emperor.  He shivered involuntarily, the momement causing the spell to bind him even tighter. 
  	“I... I am at your service,” he wheezed out.  And once I’m aquainted with your demension, he thought, we’ll see who bows to who.
	“I accept,” Skeletor said.  Trap Jaw felt himself hovering lightly over the ground, and pushed violently backward; then, a million static tingles came over his body as he was thrust through the portal.
	Skeletor looked around, chuckling.   Then he stepped through himself and sealed the rupture behind him. 
*	*	*
	King Randor sat on his knees alone in the dungeons of the palace.  They had not been used in thirty years; the manacles were covered in dust and spiderwebs, and the machinery of torture long since rusted over.  Torches flickered along the wall.  The room smelt of dust and earth, but not death.  Randor was proud of that fact.
	He stood up slowly, dusting his legs off with his hands.  He wore simple clothes of rough cotton; nothing like the robes he put on for the court.  One did not stand in the presence of the Sorceress clad in such bloated finery.  
	He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  It had been so long since he had attempted magic; longer still since he had summoned a being of such power.  But he was becoming desperate.  He had to try.
	Using the index and middle fingers of his right hand, he drew a half circle in the dirt at his feet.  Then with his left hand, he drew out a portion of the dark green sand contained in the pouch at his side: this he sprinkled lightly in the half circle, making it look like a chalk drawing of a bowl of soup.  He spit into the powder; then, with a small dagger, pierced the flesh of his left palm.  He let the blood drip over the spittle for exactly three drops.  Finally, his eyes glossed over the tears from the pain of the wound; these, too, he sprinkled into the mix.  The contents at his feet began to glow.  Randor stepped back.  The half cricle became three-dimensional, folding over so that a half sphere sat upon the ground; then, the sphere rose up, becoming a glowing column that touched the ceiling.  The column shattered without noise, and the Sorceress stepped into the light of the torches.  Randor lowered himself again to one knee.
	“My lady,” he said, his head bowed low.
	The Sorceress looked down at him, a smile playing at her face.  “Randor.  It is good to see you again...it’s been too long.”  She reached out her hand to help him up.
	Randor remained in his position.  “It is with the water and the blood and the salt of my body that I request this meeting, my lady,” he continued.
	The smile on the Sorceress’s face fell.  “All this ritual is unecessary.  At least between friends,” she said softly.	     
	“Friends,” Randor snorted.  He finally looked up at her.  He could see tears in his eyes.  
	“Aquaintances, then.  Allies.”  The Soreress brushed a stray hair aside; she looked a little hurt.  “Nonetheless, you have called me here.  To your home.  And I will not abide you humbling yourself in your own household.  Please stand.”  She once again offered her hand.
	Randor stood, but ignored her assistance.  His eyes were hard.  “So,” he said finally.  “What have you done with my son?”
	“I don’t understand the question.”
	“My son, damn it!” Randor’s face flushed with anger, his hands clenching and unclenching as he talked.  “He told me about those dreams he was having,” he continued, his voice hot with rage.  “I know you were behind them!  Then he stays out all night doing God-knows-what without any security, and comes home only to run away again hours later.  I have no idea where he is.  His mother is hysterical.  This is your fault, Sorceress, and I want to know what exactly you plan to do with him!”
	A handfull of heartbeats passed.  Neither party spoke.
	“Are you quite finished?” the Sorceress finally asked.
	The question reminded Randor of exactly who he was talking to.  He remained silent, but continued to glare at her.
	“Good,” she said matter-of-factly.  “Now, if you will allow me to explain: yes, I did send your son the dreams you speak of.  However, I did so with good reason.  Have you not felt the vibrations in the magical field?” 
	A moment passed.  “Yes,” Randor admitted half-heartedly.  “Though I must admit, I was unsure of its origin.  It has been many years since I have been in contact with it.”   	    
	“Yes, it has,” she replied.  “Now the vibrations, which were already incredible to begin with, are getting stronger.  Which means-”
	“Someone has found the Sword of Power,” Randor breathed.  
	“Half of it, yes.  Someone who is very adept as using that half.”
	“You don’t mean-” he broke off, unsure of how to phrase the rest of his sentence.
	“I’m not sure,” she said quitely.  “But merely hours ago, Greyskull’s systems recorded a dimensional breach that lasted almost four and a half minutes.  Almost five minutes, Randor.  Only a person well versed in the magics of the Sword could pull that off.”
	“But my son!” Randor spat out.  “What does this have to do with my son?  Why should he be out there alone if that-creature-has somehow returned?”
	“Randor, calm yourself,” the Sorceress said.  “I sent your boy on a quest that should take him well out of harm’s reach.  The magic of Greyskull will protect him.  Trust me: no harm will come to Prince Adam.”
	Randor sighed.  “I only wish I could believe you.”
	The Sorceress touched a hand to his cheek.  “Trust in the magic of Greyskull, Randor,” she said.  She leaned forward, and kissed hlm lightly on the forehead.  “Sometimes, trust is the only thing we have.”  
	“So how do we defend Eternia this time?” Randor asked softly.  “I’m not a young man anymore.”
	The Sorceress smiled knowingly.  “A new hero will emerge,” she said.  “They always do.”
	Randor kissed the woman’s hand.  She gave him one last smile, then dissappeared in a green-white light.
*	*	*
	“Hey, look, pal.  I can see Cohn-it’s just over the horizon.”  He-Man slid off Battle Cat’s saddle and matched his pace beside him.  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
	Battle Cat growled a reply.  The journey had only taken a day and a half of steady riding, but it had taken its toll on the animal: he loped along, his head hanging low to the ground.
	He-Man patted his side.  “Don’t worry,” he soothed.  “We’ll bed down and get some food as soon as we get into town.”
	Battle Cat growled a tired response.

	Cohn was a large village; not nearly as big as those surrounding the palace, but still impressive to He-man’s eyes.  He walked alongside Battle Cat down the dusty main street that ran through the center, which was packed with various stores, shops, and inns.  All were covered in brightly covered banners, with goods pouring forth from the windows and doors and occasionaly spilling into the street.  But despite the sheer number of stores and buildings, the streets were deserted: no men calling out their wares, no one perusing the markets.  The place looked like it was desterted.  
	It was the beginning of the afternoon, the sun just having crossed its zenith.  This place should be swamped with activity, He-Man thought.  He glanced down at his companion.  Despite the haggard look on his face, his eyes remained alert.
	“You feel it to, huh?” he muttered.  Battle Cat grunted in agreement.
	As he walked, an older man slipped out of the doorway to his right and fell into step beside him.
	“You should not have come here, stranger,” he growled under his breath.  “Not now.  Not at the day’s peak.”
	He-Man stopped, then looked down.  The old man had to be over seventy, his bald pate reflecting the light of the noonday sun, wrinkles criss-crossing his weathered face.  He was dressed in simple brown robes, marking him as either a priest or a beggar.
	“Why do you say that?” he asked.
	“Leave,” the man spat out.  “Consider this your only warning.”  He began to walk quickly away.
	“Wait!” He-Man called after him.  “If you tell me what the problem is...maybe I could help.”
	“Then stay if you like, hero,” the man called over his shoulder.  He slipped back into the shadows of the building.
	He-Man contiued walking, making it all the way to the town’s square without another incident. He had yet to see anything that these people would consider a threat.  And for that matter, what had the man meant by arriving at “day’s peak,” anyway?  Then he noticed the shadow that coated the ground he stood on; without warning, a huge, hairy fist drove into his back.  
	He came up in a roll, drawing the Power Sword from his belt and looking up to face his attacker: a towering, fat, toothy creature with hairy arms and hooved feet.  And that distinctive smell....  
	A troll, he thought.  Wonderful.  That explained the threat of midday; trolls gained their powers from the sun’s light-the less shadows on the ground, the stronger they were.
	Battle Cat lunged at the creature, biting and clawing, but the exhaustion of travel had left him slow; the troll brought up a forearm, easily deflecting the attack, and knocked Battle Cat to the ground.   He remained standing, but was groggy and unfocused, meaning he was out of the fight.  He-Man raised his sword for a swing, but had to dodge quickly as the troll’s hand came slapping down towards him.  He’s fast for a big guy, he thought.  The sword’s too much. I need something-
	Something lighter.
	He looked at his hand as he suddenly felt the weight ease off.  In place of the sword was a light, double-bladed battle axe.  Perfect, he thought, as he dodged another blow.  He turned and flung the axe with all his strength; it landed squarely in the creature’s forehead.  It paused midswing as blood began to flow into its eyes, then gurgled quitely for a second before collapsing with a loud crash to the ground.
	“That was easy,” He-Man muttered, surprised by his own strength.  He walked over to the creature, retreiving his weapon.  Sword, he thought.  It transformed to its normal form in a flash of light.  He looked around; property damage was minimal, which was good; now, all that remained was to get rid of the body.  The nine-foot-tall, two ton body that was currently entrenched in the middle of the village.  He-Man groaned.  He could probably lift it, but he wasn’t sure how long he could keep that up-
	A hand touched his shoulder.  He turned quickly, expecting danger; instead, it was the old man.  Over his shoulder, He-Man could see the other villagers slowly coming out of their buildings.  They were all smiling widely.
	“For two weeks, that creature has tormented our village,” the old man said quitely.  “We have been afraid to leave our homes, to let our children play in their own yards.  Our entire life had been brought to a standstill.  Thank you, young man,” he said.
	He-Man scratched the back of his head sheepishly.  “I’m...I’m not sure killing it was the best solution,” he said.  
	“It was the only solution it left for itself,” the old man said evenly.  “Now tell me, child: what is your name?”
	He-Man swallowed hard; this was the part he was least looking forward too.  “I am called...He-Man,” he said.  
	The smiles of the crowd became even broader.  “He-Man,” the old man repeated slowly.  “I’ve read the legends about you.  I had thought them a myth, a fairy tale for children to dream by.  I’m glad to see I was wrong.” The old man grabbed his hand and shook it viciously.  “Very glad, indeed.”  He turned to the crowd amassed behind him.  “People of Cohn!” he shouted.  “Spread the good word: the Master of the Universe has returned!” 
	The crowd roared, chanting the hero’s name.  they surged forward, each one trying to catch a better glimpse of the legend walking in their midst.  “Hey-hey!  Stop!’ he yelled.  “Look, we’ve got to start cleaning this up-”
	“We will burn the body in a celebratory pyre,” the old man yelled over the din.  “Now come-we will hold a feast in honor-”
	“Stop,” a calm, female voice said.  The cheers died down, then stopped.  The croud parted evenly as a beautiful woman stepped through.  She was tall, with long, brunette hair tied back in a pony tail, and pale white skin.  Her clothing was tight but functional, and covered her body fully from the neck down.  “There will be no feast.  The hero will come with me.”
	The old man glared, but backed down.  “He is yours, Lady Teela.”
	She walked up to He-Man, looking him over.  “Tend to your friend,” she said, glancing at the still shaken Battle Cat, “then follow me.”
*	*	*
	The green, scaly hand broke throught the surface of the water along the river banks, pulling the creature from the sea onto the beach.  It held a fish in its mouth, which struggled fiercely agianst the grip of its jaws.  Its gills fluttered in the open air as it sat down, greedily chewing on its prize.  The moonlight shown down, making patterns on the surface of the water and his wet, glistening scales.
	The creature gazed out over the oceans that had once been its home.  It swallowed absent-mindedly, gulping down the remnants of its prey.  Its oversized eyes blinked repeatedly, and its webbed hands ran up and down its naked arms, trying to warm them in the freezing wind.
	“It’s hard to let go of the past-isn’t it, Merman,” a voice said.
	He turned, preparing to dive back into the safety of the ocean, but stopped when he saw the face of the man who approached him.
	“Oh, don’t think I don’t know about you,” Skeletor continued.  “You were exiled after abandoning your post during a raid by the...the Rathacks, was it not?  Branded a coward, you were relieved of duty, cast out of your clan, and forced to remain on dry land for all but an hour a day.  Isn’t that so?”
	Merman continued to stare, his eyes blinking wildly.  
	:How do you know?: he finally said, his voice gurgled and thick.
	“Never mind that,” Skeletor said.  “I’m not interested in your past.  Quite the contrary, I offer you a chance at the future.  A chance to prove yourself to those who scoffed at you.”
	:And what is the price of this redemption?: Merman asked
	“I want you to lead my troops, to aid in my return to power,” the other continued.  “My only price is loyalty.”
	:Why?  Why me...what have I done to deserve your attention?:
	“Let’s just say I  believe everyone deserves a second chance,” Skeletor replied with a smile.

	The War Room in Snake Mountain consisted of a few no longer funnctioning computers mounted to a large, ovular table that sat in the middle of the room, with a well stocked bookcase against the north wall.  Beast Man was curled up in the far corner, loudly tearing through the midsection of a deer he had killed an hour ago.  Tri-clops sat in a wooden chair near the bookshelf, idley flipping through a copy of The Complete History of  Tree Nymphs.  Trap Jaw wandered into the room, his arrival announced by the squeaks of his knee joints.
	“You really should get those looked at,” Tri-clops said without looking up.
	Trap Jaw pulled up a chair next to him and sat down.  “Hey, uh, Tri-Clops, right?  I gotta say, man: that eyepiece is really a sweet peice of equipment.”	
	“Thanks,” he replied, his forward eye still focused on the book.
	“What can it do?” Trap Jaw asked.
	Tri-clops rolled his eyes-all of them-then turned his full attention to the cyborg.  “Look.  Why are you so interested?” 
	“Just curious.  You know how it is.”
	Tri-Clops sighed, but laid the book back on its shelf.  “Fine.  This one-”he pointed to the one facing Trap Jaw- “allows telescopic, microscopic, subparticle, and infrared vision.”  The eyes shifted, then locked into place.  “ This one has ultraviolet and EM, and can check into the magic scale gradient.”  His eye shifted agian.  “And this one can fire a a blast of heat or a small, self-contained energy burst.  But that takes a lot out of me, so I don’t use it very often.  And of course, all three have perfect vison under to 100 clicks in any direction.”
	“Wow,” Trap Jaw whistled, an odd sound considering the bottom half of his face was made of iron.  “How does all that wire up?”
	“It’s pretty simple.  Just a few sensors wired directly into the optical node of the brain through the neural pathways.  I had to lose my real eyes so the wires could feed through the sockets, but I’d say it was a worthy sacrifice.”
	“How’d you do it?” Trap Jaw asked, a little too quickly.  
	“Just used a technomage.  Pretty standard procedure, I’m told; nothing really radical about it.  Why do you keep asking me these questions?”
	“Oh, you know,” Trap Jaw said, sitting on the edge of his seat.  “You still in contact with that technomage?  I mean, I had a night vision circuit installed a few weeks ago in my left ocular cavity, but I was looking for something a bit stronger-”
	“I knew it,” Tri-clops groaned, standing up and shoving Trap Jaw out of his seat.  “You’re nothing but a parts junkie!  God, I can’t believe Lord Skeletor put a low-life quick fix half-human like you on the payroll!”
	“Speak for yourself, pal!” Trap Jaw retorted, giving Tri-Clops a shove of his own.  “I’m working to better myself, to improve my situation-”
	“You compulsively add inorganic crap to your body for some sort of mechanical high!” Tri-Clops shouted, pulling his broadsword.  Beast-Man growled at them, but the two men paid no attention.  “You’re wasting your biological sytems and replacing them with-with-machinery!At least I knew to stop after the eyes, and that was for the job, you stupid piece of-”
	The rest of his sentence was cut off by a sharp whine that filled the chamber, this was followed by a short, loud pop and the stink of brimstone that usually accompanies teleportation.  In an instant, their lord and master had returned.
	“Now, now, children,” Skeletor chided.  “Do I have to get the belt?”
	The two men ceased their bickering as Skeletor approached.
	“No sir,” Tri-Clops said evenly.  Trap Jaw remained silent.
	“I thought not,” Skeletor replied.  He then pointed at the creature who had remained at the point of teleportation.  Its eyes swiveled in its sockets as it tried to take in the new surroundings.
	“Gentlemen, I present the Merman,” Skeletor said dramatically.  “A finer specimen of his kind, really.  And the last of my appointed generals.”
	“What’s your name, boy?” Tri-Clops said warily.
	The Merman uttered a number of glubs folled by a hiccup.
	Trap Jaw and Tri-Clops looked at each other.  “Merman it is, then,” Trap Jaw said. Tri-Clops nodded.
	Beast-Man lumbered over to Skeletor’s side, whining and clawing at the ground.
	“I agree with the walking carpet,” Trap Jaw said.  “What’s next, Lord?”
	Skeletor paused, tapping a finger against his front teeth.   “I plan to do a little recruiting,” he said.  “I know the Frost Giants are still loyal to me, and a few other species that would once agian unite under my cause.  With them, we icrease our ranks.  Then,” he lowered his voice, and grinned widely-
	“Then we go for the palace.”