A Better World Doom descended upon the jungles of Lustria. Fractured chunks of the once green moon tore through the sky even as the Slann sought to halt them. Tides of ratmen poured through burning jungles and dragged down the children of the Old Ones. Cehtzo ran. Through the stone paths of the city he had called home, the Skink Priest tried to ignore the chittering cries of Skaven and the roars of the Saurus as one by one they were torn down. He scrambled up into the great pyramid temple, the sliver of hope that the city’s master could prevent its destruction beat furiously in Cehtzo’s chest. Hope that was swiftly extinguished as he entered the Slann’s chambers. Mitzcizqetl hung lifeless upon his fallen palanquin the strain of maintaining the geomantic web had been too much for the Mage Priest. Around the corpse lay the withered forms of the leading city priests, their lives given so Mitzcizqetl could hold just a little longer. But it was all in vain. As Cehtzo slumped to the temple floor in despair his eyes noticed that even as death claimed him, Mitzcizqetl had tried to reach something judging by his limp outstretched arm. Cehtzo’s gaze followed the arm and saw a small golden cube covered in glyphs of the Old Ones. Unsure quite why, he felt drawn to it even as the city fell around him. He looked up at the dead Slann. “Lord Mitzcizqetl?” he spoke, “did you intend for me to use this treasure of the Old Ones?” The dead Slann gave no reply and carefully Cehtzo picked the cube up. Was it a weapon? It was said Mitzcizqetl had kept many arcane devices of the Old Ones within the temple. Cehtzo’s claws felt around it and founds parts of the cube moved like dials and other glyphs were like activation studs seen on other treasures of the Old Ones. Cehtzo pointed the cube at the chamber wall and bracing himself pressed one of the studs. There was a flash of brilliant light and Cehtzo and the cube vanished. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Elsewhere. Walls of flesh curled and screamed with twisting maws as Cehtzo ran, tendrils lashed out as other gibbering fanged mouths hissed praise for a being called Mutae. The stench of stitched flesh and the foul reek of Warpstone hung nauseously in the air even as Cehtzo dodged aside the reach of the walls. And then he was free of the mouldered walls and in the darkness of earthen tunnels. He panted for a moment and peered into the darkness before him. Perhaps the Old One device had sent him to a Skaven warren? He glanced back the way he had come where the screams and hissed words faded into the gloom. He turned back towards the darkness of the tunnel to find a curved blade pointed at his throat. Stooped before him was not a Skaven but a white bird creature. It tilted its head and spoke something that seemed more chirps and whistles. When Cehtzo's answer was only to stare and blink the bird creature seemed to consider something for a moment before reaching into a belted pouch with a taloned hand and withdrawing a small device that it then mimicked placing into an ear. Cehtzo did so hesitantly and found he could understand the creature. “You do not seem to be of New Lustria” the bird creature said, “you are not from this reality either, are you?” “No...at least I do not think so,” Cehtzo replied, “my home was dying, I found myself here.” “You are in Hell-Pit, from what I know this was once a realm of the Rakken that separated from its world during its ending, it now floats like an island or ship through realities. The Rakken and other peoples stitch and mutate beasts to fight for sport, even those like you do the same.” “And you?” “I ended here at the moment of what should have been my death. I work for a Rakken in the hope I may one day return or find a better world.” The bird creature seemed to smile sadly, “if you are able, leave this place. Find a better home.” Cehtzo nodded, appalled at the thought of living in a place ruled by what was likely Skaven. He reached to his ear to remove the device but the bird creature shook its head. “No, keep it. It may help you,” the bird creature wistfully gazed around into the gloom, “I was once known as the song of Forar, perhaps you may find your own song of hope elsewhere.” Cehtzo dipped his head in thanks and twisted a dial on the Old One device. He pressed a glyph stud and once more was enveloped in a bright light and was gone. ------------------------------------------------------------ Elsewhere. “Frak! He’s getting away! Emperor’s teeth, Jak! Can’t you run any faster?” The juve ganger replied with several jibes aimed at Kal’s parentage and something vaguely to do with removing parts of him via Ash Clams and maybe a pack of Sumpkrocs. Kal merely laughed and fired more las bolts at the scurrying lizard mutant that had appeared in their gambling den in a bright flash of light. The lizard mutant had hissed at them and gestured with its claws, until Mad Eric had declared that it was probably some kind of mutant Crotalid of legend and if they caught it, they’d be swimming in Thrones for years. Curiously the lizard mutant had seemingly understood what they had said and had taken off running. “I...almost...wish I was back at...that Hell-Pit...” Cehtzo panted to himself as he fled through tunnels of scrap metal and hissing pipes. Another bolt of red energy scorched a pipe above him as the humans chasing him fired again. “Animals...” Cehtzo hissed, “almost...as bad...as Skaven...” A jutting out piece of pipe caused the Skink Priest to trip. As he lurched forwards, his talons pressed several glyph studs. The two underhive gangers cried out in pain as they were blinded by a brilliant flash of light and found their prey had gone. ----------------------------------------------------------- Elsewhere. “Pass me another bottle of Snakepoison, Doc.” A skeletal figure wearing a large hat, mouldering shirt and trousers, and a gold etched six shooter covered in Khemrian glyphs sighed through bony teeth and passed the be-hatted Skink beside him another bottle of hard liquid. “Thanks Doc,” Eli-Nesz said and gave the slumbering bright furred Skaven to his other side a prod. He made to say something when there was a flash of brilliant light and a Skink Priest crashed across the saloon table, upsetting drinks and shattering bottles. Cehtzo rose from the wreckage to find several metal cylinders pointed at his head. “Think he’s one of the Underwriter’s other siblings?” growled a Dwarf, a red stick of dynamite in a meaty paw. “What-whatever he is, he woke-woke me up. I’ve gut-gutted fool-meat varmints for less,” the Skaven hissed, clicking the safety from the six and a half shooter in their paw. “Besides y’see that cube-thing? Scent-looks like something the Underwriter’s spawn-mates would have-have.” “Now, now” spoke Eli-Nesz, “I’m sure there’s a logical expla-” The Skink bounty hunter’s words were cut off by the timely crash of a piano through the ceiling above, throwing up a pall of dust. Amongst the dust cloud, Cehtzo ran even as the Skaven put several holes in wall where he had been. “Not again, Ti’Rakz!” came the cry of Eli-Nesz. “No...this place will not do at all,” Cehtzo whispered to himself as he took cover behind a barrel outside the saloon. He turned a dial on the Old One device and pressed the activation glyph once more, and vanished in a flash of bright light. ----------------------------------------------------------- Elsewhere The human city was old and broken. Stone walls had collapsed and sickly looking vegetation clawed at their remains. A broken statue of a human wielding a great warhammer lay in the street, his pitted and blank eyes glaring up at the skies above. Cehtzo wandered the dead city finding no sign of life. Eventually the sun began to set and the shadows lengthened and twisted. Twin moons rose into the sky, one a luminous white, the other a sickly green. “I...I am home,” Cehtzo spoke and yet something nagged at him, there was barely any taste of magic in the air, as if someone or something had cut off the winds of magic altogether. He was about to leave the dead city to wander into the cool darkness of the night when he suddenly felt a blade at his throat. “Ahhh...a child of Lustria...I thought-thought you all dead-dead when the ascension came...” the voice was old and very tired, and yet there was strength to the shadow’s whispered words. “No-no...you scent-smell different. Snee’s device act-actually worked then. There is magic about you, you are not-not from this world are you?” “No...” Cehtzo hissed back. “Ah,” spoke the shadow, “we can both squeak-understand each other. This is good.” The blade at Cehtzo’s throat was removed and he spun around to see the speaker. It was a Skaven cloaked in shadows, a trio of blades hung at his side, and he seemed astonishingly ancient for a ratman. Cehtzo was about to lift the cube device when he noticed in shock that his claw was empty. The Skaven studied the Old One device with ancient red eyes, before secreting it away within his cloak. “I’ll make-make you a deal-thing lizard-thing. My final mission is not-not yet complete. We Skaven...we ruined this surface-world. Cut-cut off magic, kill-slew everything, until so little remains. Af-after the ascension...we became nothing. The Horned Rat betrayed us and sought-sought the ruination of everything including us. The Seer Order and I shattered him, but the pieces are returning together once more. Help-aid me stop the final end-thing of this world...and you get your device-thing back.” “Your word means nothing, Skaven,” Cehtzo snarled. “Maybe, maybe not. You have-have little choice, lizard-thing. You can try-try to kill-slay me if you can. It will not-not work,” The shadow shrugged and beckoned Cehtzo to follow, “Scent-tell me of your world. The night-night is long and these old bones like-like a good tale.” Cehtzo ground his fangs and followed the Skaven into the darkness. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- So, i've been in a lot of campaigns and elseworld rpgs over the years, so this was an excuse to reference and for myself to revisit a number of them at the cost of confusing the warp out of any poor git reading it. The first alternative world was the one of Moulder Pitfighters a campaign that currently is on haitus. The current plotline is an alternative future that as the End Times occurred, the Skaven in Hell Pit managed to translocate their home into a kind of reality jumping island ship that sails through real and unreal space whilst the myriad of races there vie for fame and fortune through the act of mutating beasts and each other to fight to the death in gladitorial matches. They have also largely rejected the worship of the Horned Rat and worship a new god of mutation: Mutae. Craa the Forarsong has appeared in a few rpgs and campaigns. She was originally an npc in one long running rpg whom I enjoyed playing as enough for a version of her to end up as one of my Moulder Pitfighter lab team. And yes, my lab team mostly use Babel Fish-like translators to understand each other. The second alternative world I was very close to it being one of the 40k Ratty-verse ones such as my unfinished Only War rpg, my one shot Black Crusade game, and my currently running Rogue Trader game. Instead I tried to be less obscure with my references and just threw poor Cehtzo into Necromunda. I even got my Liber Xenologis out to make reference to several different xenos lifeforms that are found in the underhive sumps (oh and Crotolids because those warp jumping crocs are great.) The third alternative world is that of the Among the Dust collab series that appeared on LO. It's a tongue-in-cheek series with Bowser's Skink bounty hunter Eli-Nesz, my Skaven bounty huntress Felrix Brightfur, and a whole host of other Wild Westernized characters all the while two Slann (and sometimes their Vermin Lord 'guest') control the strings and make bets. A lot of pianos end up falling from the sky. The final one is a special world. It was the now abandoned Underempire campaign I worked on where the End Times never occurs with the Skaven ironically teaming up with the forces of good (similar to how they had been playing in the Nemesis Crown GW campaign) and actually all but destroying Chaos' touch on the world...until the Skaven turn on the now bloodied other races and take over the world. However, the Horned Rat now technically the ascendant god and being a god of ruin, decay, and treachery sought the ruination of te world and his triumphant children, causing the Seer Order with the aid of the Eshin Deathmasters to shatter the Horned Rat into fragments at the cost of cutting off any flow of the winds of magic, access to the Realms of Chaos, and a disintegration of the ruling structure of Skavenkind. Many years later on a mostly barren and ruined world the remaining Skaven and survivors of the Ascension fight for dominance whilst a shadowy Old Man Logan Deathmaster Snikch figure tries to prevent the shards from rejoining. The ending is a bit abrupt like that because once again I wrote this all last minute.