Tlatlacolli The prisoner pulled at the golden manacles that chained him to the wall, once more in vain. He hissed low and tried to close his aching eyes instead, yet sleep eluded him as tantalising visions of slaughter and the death of countless rat men continued to surge through his mind, causing his body to painfully spasm with rage and desire to rend and kill. Alone with the madness and torture brought about by solitude and singular purpose drilled and twisted into his being, the dull scaled Saurus called only the Tlatlacolli waited. -------------------------------------------------- “We need to unchain the Doom to meet this threat, Lord Huepanmecatl has decreed it...” The Skink Priest paused and favoured his young acolyte a glance. “You do not know of the Tlatlacolli, the Doom of the Xa'kota... do you, Ichil?” “I do not, master,” Ichil replied. The Skink Priest was quiet for a long while as the two walked, the tapping of his staff upon the stone floor echoing through the corridors and chambers leading to the prison. At length he spoke again. “Long ago the ratspawn defiled many cities and ravaged much of Lustria in great plagues, until Sotek rose and with the prophet we drove out the taint of the rat. Our losses however were great. Many spawning pools had been tainted and too many of our treasures of the Old Ones had been lost forever. And yet within one of these spawning pools, a sole Saurus emerged. Somehow not physically twisted by the poisons of the ratspawn, but instead born with the purpose of the Old Ones to slay the Xa’kota. The Tlatlacolli’s scales, a dull greyish hue, could turn aside any of the ratspawn weapons, their poisons and diseases could not bring him low, and the glowering green stones of magic would grow dim and lifeless around him. He reaped a fearsome slaughter of the ratspawn, and yet he could barely be controlled. Even our lords felt wrongness about him, a hollowness that sapped away their powers and itched like the bites of a swarm of insects.” The Skink Priest paused and ran a claw across part of the glyph inscribed wall. He sighed deeply and to Ichil seemed to suddenly look older and frailer than before. The Skink Priest closed his eyes and sighed. “The Old Ones had blessed us with a weapon to bring destruction to ratspawn. And yet like so many things, an outside element had twisted it. Tlatlacolli often could not tell friend from foe once he began his slaughter. It became necessary to find a plant that could make him sleep despite his resistance to venoms and then chain him like some wild animal. Some even argued to slay him. But twisted or not he was still a gift from the Old Ones. And so we hide him from the sky until he is needed.” Ichil remained quiet, surprised and confused at the Priest’s tone. “This is my third time I have unchained the Tlatlacolli. The first time I was but an acolyte as you are now. I was inquisitive and tried to use my power to see into his mind. For a moment I broke through the emptiness that suckled away my power and I felt the pain and vengeance that wracks the Tlatacolli. But he is a gift from the Old Ones and we must do our duty. Perhaps I have lived too long in the shadows, for every day we number less and the plans set out by the Old Ones can seem further from reach. Like the Tlatacolli, we shall wear doom and destruction about us like a scaled cloak. Though for whom...I do not yet know...” He trailed off and the two continued their rest of their journey in silence. A small host of Temple Guard met the pair outside the glyph marked chamber that housed the prisoner. They led the Priest and Ichil into the ill-lit chamber whose shadows seemed to curl and twist as if in pain. The dull scaled old Saurus chained to the wall opened his glazed eyes. His fanged maw twisted into either a smile or a grimace. It was time. Author note-things: Ugh. I wrote this piece last minute whilst deathly ill and maybe a little high on painkillers and cough syrup. I really wasn't happy with how I ended the piece to abruptly but at the time it was all I could do bar keeling over and let Nurgle claim me. *Shakes talon* On the more positive note, it was a fun and different tale to write. I have been having fun with Murder Servitors of late (throwing them at Black Crusade rpg characters and the like) so making a Fantasy based one was a nice challenge. Basically, the Tlatacolli is a Blank from 40k mixed with being a more organic Murder Servitor/Acro-flagellant. A being created to destroy and ruin but to such extent that it could bring ruin upon its own race. The blank part for example being nasty to the Slann. In the end, the Tlatacolli is a knee jerk reaction by the Spawning Pools/Old Ones against the Skaven, but all the same lives a cursed and broken existence.