Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. It’s time once again for a trip to Eternia, where the endless battle between good and evil continues. Join Ibentmyman-thing and Matthew K as they bring you a brand new story featuring some of your favorite Masters of the Universe characters. Welcome to Eternia…
Trying to ignore the voice that resonated in his head was like trying to ignore a flame when standing inside it.
Lord Roton pulled the cloak down further on his head as if it could somehow block the voice from echoing inside his head. He felt as if he could scratch it out if he had a sharp-enough blade, but he knew that was insanity talking. He paced the emptied ruins of a castle whose days had long ago passed into history. All around the castle walls the craggy, blasted landscape was overgrown with weeds, and the kingdom the castle looked out over had long ago died. The solitude was all he needed, all he desired, but it seemed it would not be his.
“I am not for sale. I am neither puppet, nor minion, nor henchman, nor lackey.”
“You misunderstand my intentions.”
“And you underestimate my resolve, Skeletor.”
The voice in his head laughed. “Skeletor? Ahh, I see your hesitation. But I am not Skeletor.”
Roton pivoted back and paced the length of the decrepit throne room again. “No? Your manipulations reek of Skeletor. Forcing an audience by burrowing into my brain instead of facing me one on one is Skeletor’s way. Demands, threats, and manipulations are why I prefer solitude, which I would be grateful to enjoy now.”
“I regret that I cannot meet face to face, but the logistics of such a meeting are currently impossible. But I can assure you, Lord Roton, that my intentions are well-meaning all the same. Will you hear them?”
Lord Roton spun and seated himself on the broken throne.
The back was cracked; a long, jagged scar ran down the length of it, as if from an axeblade. Roton had been the sole occupant of this castle for years now, trekking out only to gather supplies, and returning to hide away from the rest of Eternia for as long as those supplies lasted.
“I can tell you the origins of your staff.” The voice said simply.
Lord Roton was startled. His staff had come to be as much an appendage as his arms and legs. He looked at the red blades at the end. He tapped the end of the staff and they began to spin. it spun faster and faster, until it began to hum in a clear and high whine, and the end was a near-invisible red blur.
He held it out, and it sliced a clean hole in the air in front of him, leaving behind a white prismatic gash that expanded into a portal.
He tapped the end of the staff and the blades on the end of the staff ceased spinning, and the gash disappeared.
“I know all I need to know.”
Lord Roton was lying, but he had no reason to trust this disembodied voice with any truth. It didn’t matter. His entire life was fabrication. He was no Lord, and had no claim to any type of station. In fact, his name was not Roton — that was the name of his staff. He was once just a thief–a good one,an excellent one, but a thief nonetheless — and had stolen the staff while in another dimension from a museum. It had been encased behind glass and he had stolen it for coin, not knowing what he held until the guards of the museum had cornered him and he had accidentally activated it.
“So you know of its connection to the Cosmic Key and the Nexus of the Universe? You know why Skeletor was so eager to bring you to his side, and why when you refused him and disappeared he has tried to hunt you down to no avail? You know the Staff of Roton is one of only three items that can breach the walls of Castle Grayskull itself?”
Lord Roton could not hide his shock.
“The Staff could have taken you anywhere, but it brought you back to its home, to Eternia, where it was forged.”
“Forged? By whom?”
“Only Gods forge weapons such as these, Lord Roton. I can teach you how to use it to bring you wealth and power beyond your wildest dreams.”
“So you’ve contacted me only to teach me about the Staff? Out of the goodness of your heart? Not for any other reason?”
The voice in his head was silent.
“Come now,” Roton said when the voice was silent for seconds too long, “You don’t expect me to believe you need my services, not someone with the power I’m sensing. If this is Staff can cleave dimensions, then it’s obvious it could possibly lead to wherever you are currently. And I’d imagine the champions of Eternia will want retribution when they learn who is behind their suffering.”
“I could have taken your staff by force, you know. It doesn’t have to end with blood spilled. We can work together.”
Lord Roton grunted a humorless laugh. “No. But I’ve never been the cooperative sort. You should have stayed out of my head. I’m not fond of company.”
He tapped the Staff of Roton on the floor of the shattered throne room. The blades began to spin, and he ripped a hole in the fabric of space and time. The voice began shouting, venting its anger at being denied what it wanted. But Roton and the item from which he took his name had already stepped into the portal and disappeared.
