The Great Escape of 6767 and Coffee Snake Art - SCP Foundation

This page with a small tale and art (my first real art) about SCP-6767 was my gift for Aftokrator for the 2021 Art exchange. I highly recommend reading the original article. Hope you enjoy!

A small snake, no, a small lizard, slithered around through the snow. It went over root, under stone, and through the ice-cold water. And yet, whilst it had never been there before, it knew the place better than anyone, as it had access to a lot of memories. Dead memories.

But no matter how much knowledge it could rely on, it did not prevent him from feeling increasingly colder. Tired from its travels it hid in the cracks of a rock, hoping its scales wouldn't reflect the moonlight and reveal its position when it slept.

It woke up from a new memory. One of the metal men from The Empire had succumbed to the cold. Through the eyes of the poor individual, it saw that they were close, very close.

As fast as it could, it left in search for a new river or a place that wouldn't leave tracks as the snow did. So it tried to cover itself with powdered snow, hoping it wouldn't fall off too easily. But alas, in the end, its beryllium bronze was like a shimmer in their eyes…

A chase began.

The legless lizard, despite its size, proved to be quite fast and agile. Slipping through their hands on multiple occasions. Uphill or downhill it mattered not, camouflage and quickness were key. Their mechanical equipment, or do I dare say nature, aided them yet made their approaches less stealthy. Even their improvised barrage of stones hurled in its direction did not stop it, until they scored a hit.

A high-flying rock struck a nearby bird, and a new memory revealed itself. At first, it saw itself trying to escape, then from an aerial perspective, it saw its hunters, which appeared to be more numerous than expected. A tall priestess, it recognized as Ataraxia of Tarsos, had come for its precious skin in the most literal sense.

The chase continued, but outnumbered and countered by the priestess, one fellow was able to finally grasp the sleek reptile in his hand. It bit, to no avail.

"Did you really think you could escape?" the cultist said with a grin on his face. "Not as easy, no." it answered before it tried to struggle its way from the palm's grip. These actions were met by a burst of mocking laughter, as the others now came closer. The priestess began an enchantment, which for the third time in quick succession, brought a memory forth. This time not from the dead, but his own.

It remembered being beaten by them for its scales from rare metal and paying for freedom with its knowledge on sigils. The very same they tried to use now to take him back, as he was too precious to let go.

But through the centuries it had learned to keep an ace up its sleeve. And with its own thaumaturgy, it cast the snow around him onto its pursuers. Whilst they were still blinded, it fled and dug himself a small hole in the ground. And with the fluttering snowfall, it had disappeared from their sight, finally escaped never to be seen again…

Or at least on this occasion.

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From the original article

"A talking snake in Tschida's coffee?"

-Dr. Bordeaux

Merry Christmas Afto!