The Dragon’s Retribution at Bandora’s Palace
The Dragon’s Retribution at Bandora’s Palace begins the moment Lord Drakkon steps onto the crimson dais of Lord Zedd’s throne room. Fueled by conquest and sharpened by hatred, the fallen Ranger turned tyrant comes not for alliance—but for execution. Yet the Emperor of Evil does not rise in panic. He studies. He calculates. And what follows is not merely a confrontation… but a shift in power neither of them expected.
The circular dais pulsed beneath the throne of Lord Zedd, a crimson seal carved into lunar stone. Its glow flickered faintly against the vaulted chamber walls, painting them in restless red.
White and green armor stepped upon it.
The Dragon Crosses Sacred Ground
Uninvited.
Unbowed.
The throne room doors hung shattered behind him. Tenga Warriors lay twisted and scattered among fallen spears. Goldar slumped against a fractured column, armor cracked, sword fallen from his grasp. One wing hung torn and useless at his side.
Drakkon passed him without slowing.
For a moment, the Dragon’s helmet turned—regarding the once-feared general with a glance so brief it bordered on indifference.
Then he moved on.
Smoke curled through the chamber in thin, drifting ribbons with a scent of scorched stone lingered in the air.
Lord Zedd did not rise.
He remained seated upon the throne, staff grounded beside him, studying the figure who had crossed sacred ground. The dragon crest gleamed against warped green plating. White armor, once radiant, now bore the dull sheen of conquest. It was a fusion Zedd recognized instantly.
A Conqueror Before the Emperor
“I see the Green Ranger,” Zedd said, voice rolling across the chamber. “The one who once served Rita.”
His gaze sharpened.
“And the White Ranger… who always defied me.”
Drakkon did not move.
Zedd’s head tilted.
“…Tommy Oliver.”
The name lingered like the smoke in the Throne Room.
“You remember,” he replied.
Deeper than before.
Stripped of hesitation.
Heavy with restrained fury.
Zedd listened to the cadence. Drakkon did not radiate conflict. He radiated refinement. Rage distilled into discipline. Hatred honed into architecture. The Emperor observed the posture. The stillness. The way Drakkon did not pace, did not posture, did not shout.
This was not rebellion.
This was retribution.
Retribution, Not Rebellion
Drakkon moved closer to the throne, boots grinding softly against the crimson circle. Each step was deliberate. Each step a trespass. The red light climbed the edges of his armor as he approached the throne. He moved like a ruler accustomed to silence falling when he entered a room.
Zedd could feel it then—the fury beneath the armor. Not chaotic. Not desperate. Purposeful. It was the fury of someone who had already destroyed hope once and felt no remorse in doing so.
“You changed,” Zedd observed.
“I am perfected.”
Zedd remained seated, his staff humming faintly, energy gathering along its spine.
“You stand before me fueled by hatred, discarded mercy, and severed loyalty.” Zedd said, “Good, Tommy. Good.”
A low laugh rolled from him.
“You are exactly what I once attempted to create.”
The Dragon’s Claim to the Throne
Drakkon stepped closer.
“I surpassed you.”
The platform brightened faintly beneath their feet.
“I did not come here to stand at your side,” Drakkon said. “I came to take your throne.”
Zedd’s laughter echoed through the vaulted chamber. The staff lifted. Power crackled and danced along its length.
Drakkon did not retreat. He only stepped closer. Waiting for the moment to strike.
“I conquered my world,” he said quietly. “Dismantled the Rangers. Shattered Zordon. Erased Alpha. Drained the Morphing Grid itself while they knelt in the ruins of their Command Center.”
His helmet tilted slightly.
“Hope died screaming.”
Silence pressed against the walls.
“Now I have the power to finish what should have been done long ago.”
Zedd’s laughter slowly faded. Not into anger. Into something else.
Interest.
He studied Drakkon again. Not as a child. Not as a former Ranger. But as a weapon.
The staff lowered.
“You speak of conquest as though it were rare,” Zedd said evenly. “You think rage makes you inevitable.”
Drakkon’s fist tightened at his sides.
“It makes me unstoppable.”
Zedd leaned in slightly as the chamber grew still.
Drakkon braced. One strike. That was all it would take.
Instead — Zedd smiled.
A slow, dangerous curl.
When the Emperor Reveals Power
“Before you attempt to overthrow me, Tommy Oliver…”
His voice dropped to a near whisper.
“…allow me to show you something.”
Zedd’s visor ignited.
A surge of red light burst outward, washing across the chamber in a wave of distorted energy. The air shimmered. Smoke froze mid-curl.
The shattered columns dissolved into darkness. The fallen Putties faded into shadow. Even Goldar’s slumped form was swallowed by the void.
The crimson glare intensified, bathing Drakkon’s armor in a deeper, hungrier red.
What he saw was power.
More than he had taken before.
More than he had imagined.
The possibilities did not whisper.
They roared.
And for the first time since entering Bandora’s Palace—
Drakkon considered not ending Lord Zedd.
– Copyright © 2026
About These Toy Figures
This Power Rangers short story scene, The Dragon’s Retribution at Bandora’s Palace, was photographed indoors using a simple drop-cloth diorama and lightly enhanced in Photoshop Elementsfor depth, lighting, and atmosphere. The story draws inspiration from Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and the Shattered Grid event from the Boom! Studios comic series.
- Lord Drakkon – Super7 figure. The tyrannical and Super-villainous alternate reality counterpart of Tommy Oliver.
- Lord Zedd – Super7 figure. The Emperor of Evil supreme leader of the Evil Space Aliens.
Entertainment & Props
- Lord Zedd’s Throne base – 3D printed and air brushed.
- Lord Zedd’s Throne – Super 7
- Floor — Wood grained slab panel.
- Background — Black drop cloth.
