Tales of the Snake Men: Book Two – Chapter 5
Chapter 5: The Audience
Kobra Khan roared, calling on every last shred of loyalty, pride, and fury. And with a sudden surge of strength, he broke one arm free. Slime splattered as he reached out, clawing at the pit’s edge, trying to pull himself away from the claw. The claw tightened, furious. The pit gurgled, the ooze poured faster. But Khan moved. For a brief moment, for just seconds, he was winning.
“I won’t be your monster!”
The Slime retaliated with a pulse stronger than the rest. It hit him like lightning. It wasn’t just sensation—it was ecstasy, relief, freedom disguised as surrender. His whole body convulsed, back arched, mouth open in a silent cry. He collapsed back into the claw.
“No… “ His voice trembled.
His body begged for release. His mind screamed in defiance. Hordak’s laugh echoed through the chamber, booming and cruel. Kahn’s loyalties, his plans, his past — now all melting away under the Slime’s dripping command. His resistance slipped like a scale shed in summer.
“Please—stop! I… I’m still—” he begged as his voice cracked raw with desperation.
The General’s vision flickered, half-shrouded by the ooze sliding across his brow and dripping into his eyes. But for a moment—just a moment—he saw through the green haze and looked out.
And there they were.
At the edge of the pit stood Hordak, his jagged armor gleaming in the low, red light. He wasn’t observing silently—he was laughing. A deep, mechanical rasp of a laugh that echoed off the stone walls like a taunt carved into time itself. Beside him, Grizzlor, bent over in cruel laughter, clutching his gut like he’d just heard the greatest joke in Eternia. Grizzlor pointed one clawed finger at Khan like a child mocking a fallen animal, fur shaking with delight.
“Look at him!” Grizzlor cackled. “The mighty snake General… soaking like a hatchling in a swamp bath!”
“This is King Hiss’s great General? I’ve seen swamp rats with more backbone!” He slapped the wall, laughing harder.
Grizzlor leaned in close, voice low and cruel: “King Hiss chose the wrong snake to crown. Should’ve left you in the shadows with the rest of the failures.”
“Tell me, General…” he sneered. “Does the slime feel better than your King’s praise ever did?”
Khan whimpered. His claws twitched. But his body didn’t move.
And then—
Hordak raised a hand.
Grizzlor fell instantly silent.
Hordak didn’t speak—he didn’t need to. His expression said enough: Triumph. Amusement. Ownership.
Khan’s trembling eyes shifted slightly.
Two Horde Troopers flanked the pit, one on each side. Still. Silent. Their black visors glowed faint yellow in the gloom. They didn’t laugh. They didn’t move. But they watched. There was no pity in their gaze. No judgment. Only readiness.
Khan’s claws clenched involuntarily, but the Slime pulsed in response, like a mother tightening a swaddle. His strength was slipping.
His gaze dropped.
He wanted to speak. To shout. To hiss defiance. But all that came was a low, broken whisper:
“Laugh while you can…”
Hordak’s grin widened.
Grizzlor laughed harder than before.
And the Horde Troopers never blinked.
A massive wave of Slime drenched his chest – still proudly bearing the insignia of the Snake Men, carved across his armor. A symbol of allegiance. Of identity. Of who he was. He could feel it throbbing—his heartbeat against the insignia, as if the last part of him still fought to breathe free. But the Slime was merciless.
“It… it… can’t… end like this…” Khan sobbed.
It spilled over the Snake Men insignia, flooding every groove, every edge, until it vanished beneath the glistening tide. No mark remained. No history. No rebellion.
Just green.
Green and silence.
Khan felt something collapse inside his chest—like a door locking. The memory of what that symbol stood for faded in the heat. Loyalty. Brotherhood. King Hiss.
They all felt… far away now. Unimportant.
As the ooze continued its conquest downward, it spread over his stomach. It filled the gaps between his armor, crawling beneath it. It coated his abdomen, hips, thighs, kneecaps—like vines, like roots, like chains. Kobra Khan clenched his jaw as the Slime’s psychic assault deepened. His breath hitched. His eyes rolled back. But then—like a crack of thunder through the storm—he remembered.
Another memory.
