Chapter 112: Snake Mountain

Somewhere in the remote and rugged expanse of the Snake Mountains of Nevada, there lies a hidden sanctuary. For centuries, it has served as a refuge and stronghold for those fortunate enough to find it. The entrance is concealed within the deep shadows cast by a rugged outcropping of jagged rock.

Once inside, a disorienting labyrinth begins—a chaotic maze of narrow passages crossed with twists and turns. The air is thick and stale with the heavy scent of earth, stone, and something darker.

It is here that three Cobra Vipers struggle against the unforgiving steel shackles that bite into their wrists. Their uniforms are torn and soiled with caked-on dirt and mud. Their faces are marred with violence: eyes swollen, lips split, blood dripping from wounds too numerous to count. Panic is painted across their terrified faces. Their frantic gasping is muffled and choked by the gags stuffed in their mouths.

As they stumble through the passageway, the men feel the hot, rancid breath of snarling wolves closely nipping at their heels. These ravenous creatures are driven by hunger and obedience to the shadowy figure steering them onward.

Their captor looms behind them, an imposing figure of lean, sinewy muscle. He wears a terrifying bestial mask and is cloaked in coarse animal furs. He walks in silence, and the air around him seems to vibrate with a low guttural growl, a primal sound with which he commands his ferocious beasts without a single word. This haunting noise is far more chilling than the snapping of the wolves that meld in and out of the shadows, obedient to his every unspoken command.

In front of the prisoners, an anonymous Snakeman trudges through the darkness, clutching a flaming torch. The flames flicker, casting dancing shadows across the ancient, time-worn stone of their winding path. As they come around a corner, the captives catch their first glimpse of a distant, pulsating light at the end of the passage, its glow intensifying with each torturous step. Finally, they emerge from the confines of the cave and into an ancient grotto, a beautiful sight to behold, were they not prisoners.

Flickering torches line the walls, their warm, yellow-orange light casting an ethereal glow illuminating the cavernous space. Above them, mighty stalactites hang precariously from the ceiling, their surfaces shimmering like jewels. With a practiced motion, the Snakeman finds an empty holder and carefully places his torch among the others, the flame adding to the otherworldly glow.

The Beastman behind the prisoners pushes them forcefully up the steps to the first landing, where he violently forces them to the ground. Their knees smash onto the ancient stone. They struggle to catch themselves with their bound hands.

Above them sits a man, his face shrouded in a dark hood. All the terrified prisoners can see are glowing green eyes staring down at them. Both from under the hood and from the massive panther hidden in the shadow of the throne upon which the hooded man rests his hand.

"What have you brought me, Beastman?" The raspy voice echoes in the cavern, dripping with threats of violence.

"My pets and I found these Cobra vermin trespassing on your lands," the voice behind the mask growls. "There were more, but my pets were… enthusiastic."

The man above them stands and comes down the steps, stopping one step above them. He reaches down, grabbing one of the captives, his fingers tightening around the man's trembling jaw. With his other hand, he produces an onyx blade that shines ominously in the torchlight. The prisoner's eyes grow even wider as he is forced to look up into the glowing orbitals of a sinister skeleton. The prisoner struggles against the viselike grip of his captor.

With a quick flick of his wrist, the tormentor slices off the prisoner's gag.

The Cobra Viper coughs with shock as a rivulet of blood trickles down his neck from where the blade cut him.

"So, your Commander continues to send his flock to die. He must not value your lives."

Still bound and on his knees, the Viper gathers his courage, "The Commander is a greater man than you'll…"

The obsidian blade flashes across the Viper's throat, ending his words. His body falls with a wet thud. Warm blood spurts onto the stone and begins to pool in the crevices.

The two remaining prisoners struggle harder against their shackles, only for Beastman's fist to slam into the backs of their heads.

Their vision spins as the hooded man grabs a second prisoner, slicing the gag from his mouth.

The prisoner spits and stammers, "Please. Please. We weren't looking for you. Please. We didn't know we were trespassing."

The blade slices again. The Viper's blood adds to the puddle of cooling vermilion liquid.

The madman grabs the last prisoner, lifting him to his feet.

"Today is your lucky day," the words ooze with menace.

The Viper's eyes bulge as he stares into the glowing eyes deep in the shrouded skull.

"You will return to your Commander," the madman continued, his voice low and menacing. "You will tell him to send no more interlopers into my domain."

A soft, trickling sound caught the madman's attention. He looked down as a puddle of yellow liquid spread under his prisoner. A dark stain on the Viper's pants shows the source of the liquid.

Disgusted, the captor brings the man's face closer to his skeletal visage. "Tell your Commander that should he not heed this warning, he will face the might of Skeletor."

Without another word, Skeletor tosses the Viper down the steps, where he crashes to the ground in a contorted heap, gasping for breath.

Skeletor turns his attention to his henchman. "Take him to the borderlands."

"Yes, Sire," Beastman replies before he descends the steps, stopping only to grab the humiliated Viper by his collar, lifting him effortlessly from the ground like a rag doll.

"Beastman!" Skeletor's voice booms in the cavern.

Beastman looks up at his fearsome leader.

"He must arrive alive to deliver my message," Skeletor adds, the threat lingering in the air.

A heavy silence stretches on, punctuated only by the sound of the Viper's labored breathing. Finally, Beastman grunts in reluctant acknowledgment, "Yes, Sire."

Turning back to the scene in front of him, Skeletor takes in the gruesome puddle of blood and urine staining the cold stone floor. "Clean this mess up," Skeletor growls to the guards that stand silently like statues against the cave wall. "Beastman's pets will eat well tonight."