She-Ra and the Princesses of Power Fanfiction: Genetic Composite - 6. Hordak of Dryl
Disclaimer: I do not own She-Ra or its related characters. All is the property of Noelle Stevenson, Dream Works Animation, Netflix, NBCUniversal Television Distribution, Filmation, Larry DiTillo, and J. Michael Straczynski.
Chapter Six: Hordak of Dryl
Making it up to the Castle of Dryl was way, way easier on flying horse back!
They didn’t have to traverse narrow mountain paths, or risk giving away their position with loud magical transformation, or use First Ones legendary Runeswords to clear away rock slides in their path. No. On the back of Swift Wind, they just flew right on up to the castle. Easy as you please.
They didn’t go directly-directly up to the castle, of course. It was still under Horde control, after all. Not disorganized and confused Horde Remnant control. Cohesive, disciplined, consistent Horde control. The walls held sentries. Regular patrols toured the paths and trails around the castle. Someone would notice a bright, rainbow winged horse land in the courtyard. They were indoctrinated soldiers, they weren’t blind or stupid.
Swift Wind brought them down above the castle. On the slope that hung slightly above its tallest spire. Adora and Bow dismounted and crouched low to the ground. Crawling on their bellies, they slunk up to the edge of the cliff to peer down at the castle.
Sure enough, Dryl was still flying Horde banners. Green on green instead of the usual red on red, or red on black. The sentries on the walls wore full armor, straight postures, alert. There was no slouch in them to indicate a decline in moral. Just looking at the soldiers occupying Dryl, one would think the Horde was never defeated at all.
That was confirmation enough for Adora and Bow that Hordak was, indeed, in residence at Dryl.
After the debacle with the portal, Entrapta brought Hordak back to her own castle to regroup after their defeat.
Adora remembered seeing him just before Catra pulled the switch. She didn’t think it significant at the time, after all, she was trying to stop the end of the world. But he had made some very distinct changes to his costume. The dark Lord that she couldn’t remember changing his look in all the years she’d lived in the Fright Zone had dropped the cape. Replacing it with some kind of armored frame. And front and center on that armored frame was a First Ones crystal. Adora didn’t know if the crystal served some kind of practical purpose in the armor, as a power source, possible, or whatever. But the word in First Ones writing that was inscribed on the crystal was very jarring.
It was entirely possible that Hordak couldn’t read First Ones writing. After all, there were not very many people in Etheria who could. In fact, aside from Adora herself, she’d only met two others capable of reading First Ones interlocking, sigil-like letters. One was Bow’s father, Lance, and… Entrapta. Entrapta had to know what the word inscribed on the collar of Hordak’s new shoulder armor said. She might even have been the one to put it there herself.
Entrapta and Hordak might very well be lovers.
If they were, it made perfect sense that she would take her lover back to her own Queendom and stronghold after his defeat.
But they still needed to get inside for real confirmation.
For all Adora knew, it was Catra and Scorpia instead. For all Adora knew, after the defeat in the Sanctum, Catra could have staged a coup and taken over what was left of the Horde from Hordak and installed herself as Lady of the Horde. Moving the base of operation to Dryl so that Entrapta –who said Catra was her best friend according to the data- could build more weapons for her.
“I need to get inside.” Adora whispered to Bow and Swift Wind. She had to know. She had to know if it was Catra.
“Don’t forget, it’s a maze in there.” Bow reminded her.
Adora just shook her head. “That doesn’t change the fact that we’ll never know what’s actually going on in there if we just stay out here.”
A strap of their overalls slipped down off one shoulder as Dak ran through the dimply lit corridors of the castle. They were trying to keep pace with their quarry.
Imp was making it harder for Dak to catch him. The tiny deamon wasn’t just finding a high perch and waiting for the young hybrid to figure out how to get to him anymore. Now their hunting games had evolved into actual hunting. Hide and Seek. Chase and Tag. Games that developed the small Horde clone’s reflexes and agility. Games that taught the small Horde clone how to think quickly and adaptively, how to solve problems on the fly, and seek solutions around obstacles.
Usually, these lessons were programed into Horde clones during gestation. By the time normal Horde clones were hatched from the tanks, they resembled the physical age of an adult in their early twenties. It was too late by then to use childish hunting games to instill these values and instincts. They were programmed at an early stage of gestation, then reinforced with physical training and conditioning after hatching instead.
Before the degradation that plagued master first manifested, Hordak –Hordak senior- was an excellent hunter and warrior. Who excelled at tracking and cornering prey.
He was an enviable warrior too.
All Horde were trained in all weapons. But Hordak favored the force-pike, and the bow-staff. Melee weapons capable of parrying multiple opponents at once, while also offering a longer range than a more traditional sword –that was the favored weapon of the average soldier, or the more aesthetic and symmetrical shock-batons that Hordwing (another member of the cabinet) favored.
Imp had absolutely no idea how he was going to drill master’s heir in weapons. He was already operating far outside his programed parameters as a deamon-class android indentured to the Imperial Horde cabinet. Deamon were not programmed with archaic childrens games in their databanks and they were not physically designed to teach combat.
But Imp had been Hode’s deamon before he was Hordak’s.
Hode was a member of the Imperial cabinet, and he was eccentric. All members of the Imperial Horde cabinet were a little eccentric. It seemed to be a quirk of high preforming soldiers. Only the best could be elevated to leadership positions directly under the Emperor, and it seemed to be a symptom of the best to also be a little weird. Hode’s weirdness manifested in a strange appreciation for history and art that bordered on fixation.
The Horde, as a species, did not crawl out of the primordial ooze with a cloning tank strapped to its back. There must have been a time before the cloning tanks when the Horde procreated through more natural means. When Horde hatched from eggs instead of tanks. When Horde had to grow slowly over the years, learning with every experience as more natural organisms did. Hode went out of his way to discover the forgotten history of the Horde. Literally, going out of his way, to the planet Revena at the very heart of the Empire.
All that he learned was saved to Imp’s memory banks. The old cabinet Lord had to install surplus memory in Imp to house it all and keep the deamon from crashing. Of all the deamon-class androids in use within the Empire, Imp was probably the most modified and most utilized beyond his original purpose.
Imp never imagined he would actually find a use for any of the data Hode added to him. He always just thought it was the old Lord hoarding information like the information hoarder he was.
Imp turned his attention back to his charge. To master’s heir. A Horde hatched from its cloning tank prior to the age of adulthood. Without any programing or education. They were the closest thing to a ‘naturally hatched’ Horde in several generations. Easily since Revena was deemed inhospitable.
Dak was distracted and no longer running after Imp.
This happened periodically. As much as Dak was master’s clone, they were also the Princess’ clone, and Imp noticed very early on that the Princess’ mind did not think in straight lines. She was easily distracted, her attention shifting focus –complete focus- to whatever new, interesting thing piqued her curiosity.
In this case, it appeared to be a portrait on the wall.
Imp paused in his flying, and fluttered over to perch on top of the painting’s frame. He chittered down at the young Horde clone, demanding they return to the training game. Dak would never become a strong and capable warrior if they neglected lessons that all other Horde clones already came pre-programmed with.
Dak glanced up at him, flashing those eyes that were the wrong color. A luminescent fuchsia instead of the neon glow of primary-red. Then the hybrid went back to studying the painting Imp was perched on. Frustrated, the little deamon fluttered down to land on Dak’s shoulders and see what was so much more important than their training.
It was an image of master’s Princess, Entrapta. Posing with two robots flanking her on either side. Entrapta in the foreground and the bots slightly behind. Imp didn’t see what was so fascinating. It was just Entrapta. Imp had seen Entrapta hundreds of times. Towards the end there, both she and Hordak practically lived in the lab. Cohabitating in a way that deviated from what was average for Horde clones.
“Mother.” Dak informed the deamon, pointing at the picture as if there might be some confusion as to what held their attention.
The hybrid had been expanding their vocabulary by the day, even forming simple sentences. But more than that, Dak was also developing more complicated thought. Becoming curious. About the castle, about the people around them, and about themself. The castle staff that seemed to have appointed themselves additional instructors for master’s heir in the fields of language, manners and etiquette, how to eat, how to dress themselves, and how to comport one’s self as the heir to an Etherian Queendom also spent a great deal of time telling master’s heir about the other half of their genetic template. About their ‘mother’.
‘Mother’ was an Etherian word. Imp couldn’t say that it was an Etherian concept because it was not unique to Etheria. Many races the universe over had a concept of ‘mothers’ and ‘fathers’. Of assigning different names to the genetic templates that formed an individual’s creation. There was no word of equivalent meaning in the Horde language, or if there had been, it was lost to time and disuse through the generations of cloning. Horde did not have parents. They were all siblings. All brothers reproduced from the same model.
All except master’s heir.
“Sc’pya-” Dak cleared their throat to try again. It had been a couple days since they’d seen Scorpia, but their speaking ability had improved a lot in that time. They did not have to mangle her name anymore. “Scorpia left to find her. Why?”
Imp offered a non-committal shrug. He didn’t care about the actions of beings that didn’t directly affect his master or their goals and mission. The Etherian Force Captain felt somehow responsible for the Princess being sent away, to spite the fact that she was not the one to strike the blow or give the order. Imp would never understand organic beings outside the Horde.
“Baker says I need her.” Dak continued, looking at the painting in the same way one might look at a previously undiscovered creature. With curiosity, a lack of understanding, and a desire to study and become familiar with. Actually, what Baker said was that ‘all children needed their mothers’, and Dak was one of ‘all children’. So, the conclusion was the same even if the words were different. “Do I need a mother?”
Imp searched through his saved auditory files until he found the one syllable negative he needed to answer that question. It was Hordak’s voice that came from his mouth when he opened it to play, “No.”
“Oh.” Did the young clone sound disappointed when they said that? “Okay.”
Imp frowned. Master’s heir seemed to accept the answer, but not believe it. He searched his auditory banks for a larger sound file that might give a better explanation for the young clone. He found an old recoding he didn’t even know was still in his memory drives. “The Horde value strength above all else, Zero-Zero-Three.” A skip in the track. “You are not strong if you require my help to conceal your condition. You cannot rely on other people.” Imp replayed the last line to make sure master’s heir understood the important part. “You cannot rely on other people.”
“Oh.” Dak said again. There was a pregnant pause in which the young clone just stood there, thinking. Processing the information Imp just shared. Then their lips pulled back, white-colored fangs showing in a puckish grin. “Then that means I don’t need you to help me get into the locked room.”
Dak shrugged Imp off their shoulders and dashed off down the corridor in the opposite direction they’d originally come.
Imp was left to flap in frustration.
The Locked Room, was a door in Castle Dryl that no one could open. There was a keypad on the side, presumably that unlocked it and opened the door. But no one knew the combination. There was, however, a small panel at floor level that could be passed through. Dak had seen robots go in and out of it, carrying empty trays on a consistent schedule. Some sort of automated delivery system that no one bothered to turn off. Either that, or there was someone in the Locked Room that needed an empty tray brought to them three times a day. Dak didn’t know, but they wanted to know!
It was only the little hybrid’s second day in the castle when they noticed the phenomenon. They were still getting used to navigating the confusing and maze-like corridors of Dryl when Dak saw a little robot that was smaller than they were carrying an empty tray on its head. Curious, Dak followed it. Through twists and turns, down corridors and up ramps. Until the little bot disappeared through a small panel at floor level sized exactly for it that slid out of the way. The bot exited the hatch a few moments later, still carrying its empty tray. Dak followed it again, this time ending its journey through the castle in the kitchens.
When Dak asked Busgirl about the bot and the Locked Room, all she told them was that the Princess –their mother- never planned to get captured in the Fright Zone and so never turned off her automated serving bots. No one else in the castle knew how, so the bot just kept going through the motions of its programed task.
Which meant that whatever was inside the Locked Room was directly related to Dak’s mother. They wanted inside that room. They wanted to know. It was a desire for answers that went beyond just standard curiosity.
Dak asked Imp to go through the hatch and unlock the room from the inside. The little deamon was about the same size as the bot and should have no problem fitting through the small opening. But Imp flat out refused. So, Dak was left to come up with their own creative solution.
They navigated the corridors of Dryl until they came to an exit that lead outside. Dak was several floors up from their destination, but the height wasn’t much of a barrier for them.
Climbing onto the walkway ledge, Dak leaned forward, wrapping their hair around the flagpole of one of the Horde banners that were raised all over the castle. Using their hair as a rope, the little hybrid swung themself from the walkway to the pole. Hugging it koala-style to keep from falling. Then slid down the pole, using their hair to control the speed of their decent until they reached the courtyard where the soldiers patrolled and practiced daily marching and combat drills.
In the courtyard, off to one side, shoved in a corner, close to where the castled wall joined into the very living rock of the cliffs, was the makeshift hanger where the Horde parked and stored their vehicles. It was also where they stored their tools for repairing and maintaining the vehicles. It was the tools Dak was after.
“Who goes there!?” A soldier snapped, hearing the noise of the little hybrid grabbing whatever looked useful and shoving them in the pockets of their overalls.
“Hi.” Dak straightened and turned around, hands full of tools that were almost too big for their child-sized hands to hold. They curled the tail of their hair to pantomime a thumb and pointed at themself. “I’m Hordak!”
The soldier came up short, recognizing the ‘intruder’ as their Lord’s heir. She lowered her weapon, at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Was the Little Lord allowed to play with real mechanics’ tools? Should she stop them? Or would that be hindering some part of the Lord’s personal projects. The average Horde soldier did not know much about what was and was not appropriate for children.
“Bye.” The little hybrid brushed past the soldier, their pockets and arms full of raided tools. Dak pantomimed waving good-bye with their hair was they exited the hanger.
The poor soldier was left just blinking at the Little Lord’s retreating back.
A few minutes later, when the same soldier hear more noises sneaking through the hanger, she assumed it was Hordak’s heir again and ignored it. Perhaps if she had checked on the second round of noises, she would have recognized the defector former-Force Captain Adora and one of her rebel conspirators, Bow. But the guard did not check, and the intruders were allowed to slip into the castle unnoticed.
Arms and pockets full of tools, Dak marched purposefully through the corridors. As if they were confident in where they were going.
They were confident. But they still got lost twice on the way to the Locked Room. They had gotten very familiar with the labyrinthine twists and turns –for the most part. But every now and again, when they exited out one way, and came back in another, they got confused on which way to take to get to where they wanted to go.
It took a couple tries, but Dak finally found the Locked Room again.
They dumped all the tools in their arms on the floor and took out the tools in their pockets. Keeling down, using both hands and their hair, Dak arranged all the tool carefully next to the panel hatch. Organizing them by shape since they didn’t actually know what half of them did.
Turning their attention back to the hatch, Dak examined the opening. Deciding what they actually had to do in order to get inside the Locked Room. The panel had a seal around it. A metal trim that was fastened on by screws with hexagonal indents. Dak didn’t know the names of everything he’d taken with him, but they could see what fit with what. Selecting an allan wrench and began twisting the bolts. Just loosening them at first, then taking them out all together. Finally, the metal seal was able to be pulled off.
The sliding panel of the hatch fell away almost the moment the seal was off and Dak smiled. Their hair curling and twisting with excitement. They were going to get into the Locked Room, and they didn’t even need Imp’s help after all!
Maybe the deamon was right. Horde didn’t need help!
Dak tried crawling through the space that was made bigger by the removal of the seal and panel.
…And got immediately stuck.
They made a sound of distress. A loud, shrill, feral sound that came from the back of their throat. More like a predator caught in the claw-trap than a startled child struggling in a tight spot they put themselves in.
Maybe Imp was wrong. Maybe Horde did need help.
“Do you hear that?”
Dak’s pointed ears twitched. They paused in their panicked keening to listen. It sounded like other people in the corridor. A guard patrol maybe? Dak rarely saw soldiers actually inside the castle. They were intimidated by the winding maze of corridors. Preferring instead to construct their own field barracks in the courtyard.
“It sounded like a wounded animal.” Replied a second voice.
There was a pause.
“You don’t think… you don’t think Entrapta’s testing on animals, do you?” They sounded so concerned.
Dak could hear footsteps now. Two pairs of boots. They must have just turned a corner.
Then one of them gasped. “Is that a kid!?”
“Are they hurt?” Asked the other.
“Not hurt!” Dak shouted, trying to turn their head but having trouble. “Just stuck!”
“Hang one.” Commanded one of the speakers. A gentle masculine voice, full of soft empathy and soothing sensitive tones. “We’ll get you out.”
“No!” Dak snapped. They were finally getting inside the Locked Room. They were not going to give up and let themself he dragged out by soldiers who didn’t know any better. “I want in!”
There was a silent pause from the two on the corridor side.
Then the one with the gentle masculine voice noted, “This is Entrapta’s lab.”
There was a second silent pause.
Then the second one, female, business-like, more militaristic, asked, “Kid, if we get you in the lab, can you unlock the door and let us in too?”
“Yeah.” Dak promised.
“Okay. Bow, help me push.” The female commanded.
“But what if they get hurt?” Asked the male.
“We need to know.” The other reminded him. “Kid, we’re gonna push you from this side. Let us know if we’re hurting you.”
Dak felt hands on their feet, pushing them from the outside. Lifting their head, Dak cast their eyes around for something close enough to grab to pull themself from the inside.
The Locked Room was not what Dak was expecting. It was dimly lit, dimmer than the rest of the castle which was already fairly dim. But Dak’s eyes adjusted quickly, the bioluminescent fuchsia sclera glowing brighter as the hybrid’s body registered the need to compensate for their environment.
The far wall of the Locked Room was one large computer array. A massive monitor screen in the center, surrounded by several smaller screens. All of them currently asleep, the resting screen saver bouncing around their frames. There were several parts of machines arranged along the walls. Some suspended from the ceiling. Some supported in frames. Some just lying on the floor. The closest one set in a frame that was bolted down firmly was just barely close enough for Dak to grab with their hair.
Craning their neck, Dak stretched their blue mohawk of hair to wrap around a protruding segment of broken cam shaft.
Between the two pushing them on the outside, and Dak pulling themself on the inside, the little hybrid managed to get through the tiny robot hatch. …and the only damage was that their overalls ripped a little bit. That one strap that was slipping down their shoulder earlier breaking entirely. It hung limply down their front, making their appearance asymmetrical and making them look sloppy.
Finally inside the Locked Room, Dak stood. Looking around in all directions. Lifting their head, turning three-hundred and sixty degrees to try and see everything at once.
The tow that were still outside banged on the main door. “Hey, Kid, let us in. Remember. Are you okay in there? Kid?”
It took effort for Dak to pry their eyes away from all the interesting things the Locked Room held. They wanted to snoop through it all. But the two on the other side of the door were so insistent. And Dak had said that they would let them in once inside. Dak reached with their hair to hit the door release button.
The door slid open and Dak actually saw their helpers for the first time. A man and a woman. They were not wearing Horde soldier uniforms, but that could just mean they were off duty. Dak had only been at the castle for a few days and hadn’t met everyone yet. The woman was tall, blond haired, and blue eyed. Wearing a red jacket with big shoulder pads, the golden hilt of a sword just visible over one shoulder. The man was shorter than her, dark skinned, dark haired, and dark eyed. He had an open and friendly face that made Dak think they might be fun to hang out with.
Both of them froze the moment they saw Dak.
Expressions shifting from cautiously hopeful to downright shocked. They both looked down at Dak, their eyes wide and mouths slightly open. What? Was there something on their face? Was the hybrid dirty from squeezing through the hatch? Dak brushed their clothes off, tried righting the ripped strap of their overalls, then gave up when it just fell back down again.
They looked back up at the still shock-faced strangers and smiled. Flashing their sharper-than-sharp white teeth. “Hi. I’m Hordak.”
The two just continued to stare at them.
“Uh- uh- Adora…?” Began the dark, friendly-faced one.
“Yeah, Bow?” Answered the tall blond with the sword.
“Are you… seeing the same thing I’m seeing?” His voice cracked on that last word. As if he were suddenly and inexplicably so nervous his throat was closing from a level of shock that triggered a physiological panic.
A child that looked to be around the age of ten. Pale skinned, pointy eared, glowing-eyed, with a long blue mohawk going all the way down to their feet. Wearing dark navy overalls, over a burgundy t-shirt that looked just a size too large for them.
“Are you seeing a kid-version of Hordak?” Asked the woman –Adora.
“I’m Hordak!” Dak repeated, suddenly becoming frustrated with the pair.
“Okay.” The man –Bow- sounded like he might break down into tears. “Just making sure.”
The two just went back to staring.
Dak became impatient. “Locked Room’s open.” They pointed with the hair. The long tail of blue making a wide sweep of the room. “You wanted in too, right?”
If it was even possible, Bow and Adora’s eyes went even wider upon seeing the child-Hordak’s hair moved and shift more like an extra limb than actual hair. Prehensile hair. Like Entrapta’s.
They each made odd croaking sounds. Mere words not being able to express the sheer mind-freezing shock they felt.
Bow seemed to recover first. Following Dak into the lab, watching as the hybrid’s hair moved as they moved. Not like it was just hanging from their hair, but swinging like a person’s arms swing when they walk. Hordak’s face and Hordak’s body, but with Entrapta’s Princess power. A combination of Hordak and Entrapta.
“How- how old are you?” Bow managed to croak out. The kid looked to be a decade old. Ten years. But that couldn’t be right! There was no way Entrapta and Hordak knew each other back then. Entrapta was only left behind in the Fright Zone barely a year ago.
Hearts in their throats, both Bow and Adora watched the hybrid count on their taloned fingers. Then the child turned to them, holding up six fingers. “This many.”
“Six years?” Adora echoed, disbelieving. “You’re six years old?”
Adora wasn’t sure which part of that seemed more wrong to her. The part where a six-year-old looked like a ten-year-old. Or the part where it implied that Entrapta and Hordak had been lovers since long before she joined the Princess Alliance. Was Entrapta even ever on their side at all? Or had she always been a spy for her lover? Her lover and the father of her child.
The hybrid blinked at them, as if not understanding why they weren’t understanding. “Six days.”
“I’m just gonna sit down…” Bow rested his weight on the closest object in the lab that looked like it could both support him, and wasn’t about to spring to life and attack him for sitting on it.
“You can’t be only days old!” Adora tried to argue. She liked it better when she thought they were six years, it made more sense. “You’re, like, ten!”
They frowned at her. “I’m six days and three quarters.”
Bow drew in a breath, steadying his nerves and regathering his senses. “Now, when you say you’re Hordak…?” He trailed off, not actually sure how he meant to finish that question.
“I’m Hordak.” Repeated the hybrid.
“Okay.” Bow just leaned back against the deactivated console and listing robot he was sitting on. It seemed like the world wasn’t making sense at the moment. He decided to just roll with it and wondered if this was what going mad felt like.
Adora cleared her throat. “Um, how? Exactly. Are you Hordak?”
“Sc’pya said that I’m-” They were cut off when Imp flew into the room. Finally navigating his way through the castle to the Locked Room and finding the door open.
Imp screeched loudly upon recognizing the defector Adora and the rebel Bow, with master’s heir. The little deamon went instantly on the offensive to protect master’s heir. Sounding an alarm as it attacked.
Teeth bared. Fangs exposed. Hand out with talons extended. Imp went for Adora first. As She-Ra, she was the most dangerous. Wings flapping madly, the little deamon clawed at the former-Force Captain. The whole lab filling with his shrill screeches, almost as loud as the intruder alarm that was now blaring through the halls.
“Imp, no!” Dak shouted at the deamon.
But the creature just screeched in response. These were master’s enemies! He could not allow master’s enemies to get a hold of master’s heir!
“Get it off!” Adora tried batting the deamon away with one arm while the other reached over her shoulder for the Sword of Protection to protect her from the tiny creature.
Bow jumped off the console he had been sitting on. He notched an arrow, then thought better up it since the target was small, moving frantically, and directly in front of Adora. He un-notched the arrow and put his bow away, using the trick arrow to swat at the deamon instead.
Imp turned his face to the archer, caught the swatting arrow in his mouth and bit down and on the thing intending to break it. The trick arrow point burst in the deamon’s mouth, covering the creature’s face in thick, viscous, concussive foam. Imp forgot about Adora and instead started clawing at its face to free itself. Spitting and scraping at the foam to try and free his optic sensors and mouth. The deamon shrieked some more, but it came out in muted gurgles.
The deamon fell to the ground, struggling frantically.
“Imp!” Dak went to their knees next to the deamon, using both hands and hair to help the creature free itself from the trick substance.
Adora and Bow just stood there, watching the child try and help the little winged gremlin as if it were a dear pet, or close friend and companion.
That was about the time the corridor outside filled with soldiers in full armor.
“Don’t move!” Barked one soldier, presumably the leader. “Put your hands up and step away from Lord Hordak!”
It was not the wisest thing to do, but Adora snorted. “Which is it? Do you want us to step away, or do you want us to not move?”
The soldier thumbed the safety off on her weapon. “Don’t get cute with me, rebel.”
Finally succeeding in getting the foam off his face, Imp grabbed Dak by the hand and pulled the little hybrid away from the intruders. Placing the child behind the protection of the ranks of Horde soldiers –whom closed in around the heir.
With few other options, both Bow and Adora put their hands up in defeat.
At least they discovered who the ‘Hordak’ that was rumored have taken up residence in Castle Dryl.