Description of Simpson Desert Safehouse from before the tunnels ran thick with our blood, September 4, 2012
The Caves of Caves
Echidna Cave (by Australians),,,,, the Simpson Desert Safehouse (by stuffy people)
Beneath the Earth caves wind and twist.
Way to Melbourne tunnel network. Do not use during heavy rain unless you are aquatic.
Traits:
Nature:
History & Associated Parties:
Approach: The Cave of Caves should only be entered thr
Other Detail:
OBSERVATIONS & STORIES TEXT GOES HERE
Communique to the Simpson Desert Safehouse, January 8, 2017
Soyojoy:
The Bookburners' eyes are on western Australia. The recent raid on their Pacific headquarters was bold, but now their reinforcements are flooding into the country and they're going to be looking for all of you. We've intercepted their communications; they know there's a safehouse in the desert, though they don't seem to know where. But they're determined and may discover you in time.
The Hand of the Sea Krait has offered to help you if you choose to stay and defend the safe house, and take in anyone who can't help fight. They are many, and know many safe hidden places in the Indo-Pacific. You may have to help some of the others in Australia. The recent crackdown hit them first, particularly the ones in the coastal cities.
Most weren't caught, but we think that some had to flee and don't know a path back to the Library; the Nest is out of contact with them. If they make contact with you, ensure they haven't been compromised and send them to the Library. We have bargained with the Librarians for them to stay for an extended period, if need be. When the gaze of the Bookburners turns away from the red deserts we'll return to our haunts.
Burn the enclosed scale and coral under the full moon and in the light of the Milky Way in a place that's safely accessible but can be abandoned if need be. A member of the Hand of the Sea Krait is waiting on the other side of the bridge.
— the Serpent's Nest
Communique to the Serpent's Nest, January 10, 2017
To the Nest:
Those who need to flee have fled. Those who can't fight have been sent through a Way shown to us by the Hand of the Sea Krait. This messenger has the documents and artifacts we captured during the raid. Most aren't identified but we've removed or marked anything that seems to be truly dangerous. Our defenses have been strengthened, we have been reinforced, and we are well prepared for an attack—and we suspect one will come swiftly.
Last night, we sensed a vast presence methodically moving across the desert from the south, touching the minds of those below. The wards kept them from doing more than brushing against us and becoming dimly aware of our presence. They know we're here, though. We could feel their realization. Whatever exactly they were didn't seem to be too intelligent and we don't think they got much other than our presence behind wards, but we're almost certain they're some creation of the Bookburners'. Though none of us have heard the the Bookburners creating such things, right after noticing us the presence went straight to Laverton.
Whatever this being was, they had no material form. We could only perceive them through their telepathy. If you've heard of such beings, please tell us.
— Soyojoy
Botanist's log, January 16, 2017
It's been a week since we were found by whatever construct the Bookburners had searching for us, but there's been no further sign from them. Some of us have started to hope that we were wrong about what they were, or that they mistook us for something else. But none of us are willing to risk being wrong. The Nest replied back; they've never heard of anyone like that either. For once I'm not happy to hear that we're encountering the strange and unknown. I don't believe this isn't some creation of the Bookburners, and that means they're a threat we don't know anything about.
I don't want to be here. We should be running. But the caves and the Ways that end here are too important to give up, as far as the others are concerned, and besides they think that we can hold the place against attack. Prevent teleportation in and trap all the entry tunnels; we don't really need them. Let the caves do the rest of the work, picking off any stragglers. It's true that we turned this place into quite the deathtrap over the years. But if the Bookburners know this is a safehouse now, they're not going to send a few soldiers they'll lose and then decide to not go further. They'll send their best troops, and they won't stop trying. Sooner or later they'll wear us down.
I have to admit that the preparations the Hand of the Sea Krait have helped us make are impressive, though, and they will help us hold out longer. They're some of the most skilled magic-users I've ever seen among our number. The very stone of the caves has been reinforced and under the influence of the elementals they had with them, it can float like water. With the fusion reactor they brought with them and the supplies we had on hand, we were also able to rig up a aquaponic system in one of the deeper caves. It shouldn't really be necessary, since we've got the Ways, but if they are able to disrupt them at all, food, air, and water won't be issues.
The more optimistic ones are saying that once the Bookburners give up we could try growing some of the Yeren plants we recently got ahold of in them. I don't think we'll get the chance here but it's a good idea for other safehouses. Don't all have healer mages as part of a cell. If anything good come of this, it'll be that.
Communique to the Serpent's Nest, January 20, 2017
To the Nest:
The Bookburners assail us, yet we stand firm. They'd tried to send in drones before they sent people, but no radio escapes the caves' gullets. At first they sent a token force of soldiers, assuming that we'd just flee before the fires of their ignorance and brutality. Even now they lie entombed within the rock. Since then, they've launched two more assaults. The second were slain in the same manner. Several members of the third managed to escape.
Morale is high. The Bookburners will surely send more soldiers, but we've had no fatalities yet and have continued reinforcing the tunnels. We may be able to force them to leave this safehouse alone if they keep losing soldiers like this. The problem is what lies at the other end of the Ways. At least one has been compromised. When Alex went to Melbourne for a supply run, he came under fire as soon as he exited the Way. He was barely able to get back. Based off reports from our other Australian members that some of their number were captured, other Waypoints may not be safe for long. Of course the Bookburners can't hope to access the Ways, but the safehouse has no purpose if the only safe Way connects to the Library. Our cell and the Hand of the Sea Krait have talked it over, and we aren't confident in sending scouts to see if the Waypoints are compromised. If the Nest can scry on them, we'd appreciate it.
Botanist's log, January 21, 2017
Disaster. The wards against teleportation we erected were less solid than we thought. We'd warped and bent a thin layer of space until humans couldn't get in. But there were holes, and they were big enough for drones--with bombs. Our first sign of them was an explosion taking out the water purification system. It was only then some of us noticed the buzzing.
One of the Sea Kraiters was able to take out the rest with an EMP. It broke the hydroponics, but the reactor was shielded so we should be able to cobble the remnants of the water purification system and the hydroponics together into something that does both jobs poorly, but at least well enough to support us until we get new supplies. Nest says that'll be in a couple weeks at least. Soyojoy says they're starting to wonder about the wisdom of trying to keep this safehouse active if the Ways are blocked off. A few Waypoints aren't compromised, but only a few.
I tried to convince the others to go. They wouldn't have any of it, though. Much as I hate to say this, it's because none of us have actually died or even gotten maimed so far. Only the Bookburner's blood's been shed; they feel invincible. It makes me wish I'd been hurt by one of those drones at times. Then they might at least take my warnings more seriously. Instead, all this did is make them want to strike back.
The earthquake ritual will happen at dusk.
Intercepted Bookburner distress call, January 21, 2017
This is an emergency automated message.
Facility: Laverton Outpost, Western Australia, Australia
Timestamp: 18:24 AWST
Status: Severe structural damage to lower levels (B1 and B2). Basement levels rendered inaccessible from surface. Top level partially collapsed. 23% of friendly forces deceased or injured. Casualties concentrated in lower levels. Seismic sensors detected magnitude 5.3 earthquake with epicenter directly under outpost. Enemy action suspected, but no hostile presence detected.
Botanist's log, January 26, 2017
It's been five days since the ritual. Two of us are dead.
We'd spent the first day after the ritual waiting for an attack that never seemed to come. Even the others, who'd actually expected it to work, didn't think causing a localized earthquake would work as well as it seemed to, but I guess they didn't build their outpost very well given that it fell on them. And so even the biggest advocates of the rite were expecting massive reprisal. I'd thought they'd just try to bomb us. Laverton the way it is, it's not like anyone would notice. But instead, nothing seemed to happen.
All of us thought we'd wrecked a Bookburner outpost. Even me. But on the fourth day, we found Soyojoy dead in one of the outer tunnels, mauled nearly beyond recognition and with bloody tracks leading away from him. We followed those tracks as far as we could, but it didn't take long before they faded to nothingness. Whoever had left them was no kind of person any of us knew, though. They were upside-down triangles and whoever left them moved in a sprawled posture.
It was only once we regrouped that we realized Erin had gone missing too. And at that point we knew--the Bookburners weren't giving up on killing us. They just set whoever this was on us. Likely some being the Bookburners wanted dead; they have their sell-outs but they would never accept a being like this. With the defenses we'd set up, there was no way we could find and kill the being and if talking was an option two of our number wouldn't be dead already.
So we left. We abandoned the place we got into a fight with the Bookburners to protect. Now, only whoever killed Sovojoy and Erin lives there. The Bookburners are gone. But it doesn't feel like a great victory; we're gone too.
At least fewer of us died.
The Hand of the Sea Krait is a fairly large and influential cell of the Serpent's Hand that's active in the Indo-Pacific. The Hand can get around by using Ways; the Jailors and Bookburners have to rely on predictable, easily observable planes and boats. Internet penetration is also (relatively) low, and I imagine the Hand's enemies depend a lot on Internet data scraping to spy. Naturally, this lets the Hand thrive there.
The image of the cavern is from Wikipedia.
Outstanding Issues OR This Feels Half-Baked:
- Should probably come up with a name for the anonymous Hand member and maybe make them seem less whiny. Maybe show them butting heads to Soyojoy.
- Do I need to explain how the Library got a hold of that alert from the GOC? Do I even need it?
- Character development: I don't have much of it.
- Is this too short?
- Organizationally, does my depiction of the Hand work?
- Would it work better to end it totally differently and have the GOC try to dump a monster on the Hand, but have the Hand make peaceful contact with them instead? If so could make write a Serpent's Hand GOI format about them.
Ideas for Reworking:
- Open with SH GoI format about the hideout.
- Then go to intercepted GOC messages. Dreamwalking bullshit?
- Add more personality to anonymous Hand member. Audio logs? Hand might have cameras.
- End with SH GoI format instead.
Midnight — You know who Midnight is.
Dust — Coyote. Their world was one of sapient animals, and got replaced by the Furry World in the Multi-U tale.
Peristrixalo — You know who Peristrixalo is.
The World Plague
Multiversal Homogenization (by Jailors), NT-5891-L'Engle (Bookburners), Uninorming
The World Plague is the greatest threat to all worlds. It strikes without warning, warping worlds. Wanderers are untouched, but friends and family are lost.
Traits:
Nature:
History & Associated Parties:
Approach:
Other Detail:
//
Falyx is gone. There's an Earth where it used to be. As far as I can tell it's uninhabited— Peristrixalo
[[footnoteblock title=""]]
10 Serpent, Year of the Otter, Decade of the Fox:
I am Lupoum Shan. I was born in the Year of the Trout, in the Decade of the Raven, in the Century of the Wolf. My birth-mother was Jainsai; my nurse-mother was Heingxou. I came from the village of Cold Ribbons. I was a weaver. When our star turned cold, I walked across the frozen sea and found myself on the shores of the Last Island.
There are five others with me; Joan, Mina, Tratnyn, Kawash, and Atud. We are of the Nihil, and aim to reach the Heart of the Last Island. Only with the raw possibility there can we bring an end to the cold mockery of existence that lies outside the Island, and give the next universe birth.
If I remember differently, my mind is tricking me. This journal has been warded with the most powerful spells I could buy. Even at the center of the Last Island, it and its contents should remain constant.
18 Serpent:
We left the city of Zippik two days ago and have been hiking through forest the whole time. The trees are not unlike the ones at home, but they are taller, and much broader. They're visible even through the constant fog that shrouds this forest. Were it not for the fact that the fog banks regularly roll into Zippik, I would think this an omen of imminent danger for our expedition. Fog shouldn't last this long, no matter what Joan says.
On that note, morale is high, we've encountered nothing threatening, and the hiking has been easy. Not unexpected; while Zippik is the furthest inland of all cities it's not uncommon for people to go a day's travel further inland. But it's a good sign. I am hoping that we reach an end to this fog before we encounter danger. Joan and Mina may be able to sense through it, but I can barely see anything. And with the air so still, scent is useless.
20 Serpent:
The damn fog is finally gone. The Island will only get more dangerous as we go on, but at least now if we're attacked by a monster, we'll be able to see them before they rip our limbs off. Not that we've encountered any thus far. Yesterday Joan nearly stepped on a viper; that's been the only real danger. I never knew humans could jump so high.
The woods have changed. The trees are shorter and smaller, and there's less open space between them. I don't care for the restriction. They do, however, have some sort of fleshy flower growing on them, which according to Mina is edible. Having tried some before writing this, I think it is only technically so. The texture is reminiscent of a particularly well-boiled boot. I would rather eat pine resin.
They're also, she says, dangerous to touch with bare skin. You've got to scrape them off with knives and then cook them, and only then is the venom gone. What kind of fucked up flower is venomous? At least I've got scales.
First Day of Pine, Year of the Salamander
The 'flowers'--Mina calls them coral--have been growing denser and denser today. By evening they seemed to cover every surface, and air was getting more and more humid. I swear I saw floating drops of water at times. It's gotten so bad that we were unable to make a fire tonight.
It was at that point that Mina thought to mention that they're seafood.
We're pretty sure that if we keep going straight we'll find ourselves underwater. But we're going to keep going straight towards the Center anyway. No way to know that trying to find a path around would work, and no way to know how long that would take.
It's a brand new year. I should be celebrating. But what does a new year even mean if your world is gone due to the slow advance of entropy? Ever since the wards on the Giant's prison failed the planet itself is destroyed, and the people were dead or gone long before then.
And Last Light doesn't have seasons.
Fourth Day of Pine, Year of the Salamander
We are underwater and also not underwater. Things move and drift like they are caught in the current, and the hiking is exhausting. The trees have turned to kelp, and a school of fish swam past my face. But nothing is buoyant and despite the humidity, there's no actual water--including in the river we're currently resting next to.
It's on a steep slope, and it's not much of a detour to start hiking up it. We've decided to do that; the strangeness here shows no signs of abating and it's slowing us down a lot. But maybe if we get high enough, things will be more normal.
Unfortunately, the strangeness isn't our only problem. Atud had me check the supply log I've been keeping in here. We're missing half our medicine, despite the fact that we didn't use any of it. It's impossible to know if it's just this place, or if we have a particularly talented thief. We're going to have to be keeping a lot closer watch on our supplies from here on out.
Sixth Day of Pine, Year of the Salamander
Going uphill is working. The kelp is gone, replaced with normal trees, and the river we're next to is full of water again. Though it's really more of a creek, now.
Isn't getting colder, despite the fact that we've been hiking uphill for two days straight. I'm not sure we've actually covered much distance, though. I've seen what I swear are the same rock formations three times despite only going uphill. Atud says I'm mistaken, or that the nature of this place simply makes landforms repeat. Not impossible, I guess. But I know him. He's not confident in what he says.
Tenth Day of Pine, Year of the Salamander
Came across a grove of cherries today. We're low on food, so we spent most of the day replenishing our stores. Shot a few birds, gathered fruit. Atud used some gadget to dehydrate them quickly, so now we should have enough for another week.
Kawash is losing heart. When we we gathering fruit in the morning, she asked me how we even know the Center exists. I don't get I should be understanding. But like I told her, our families are dead and our worlds are gone. Even if it might not exist, we have to search for it anyway. What else is there left for us to do? If there's nothing new after Last Light dies then nothing ever mattered.
I think I got through to them. Can't be sure.
Eleventh Day of Pine:
Atud is dead.
The cherries turned into beetles and ate half of the food. Atud tried to stop them, and they swarmed him. They bit him so hard he collapsed, and when he toppled sideways he just collapsed into more beetles, all but his right front leg. The trees, the plants; they turned to were beetles too, enough beetles to make a tidal wave of insects rushing towards us. I can barely believe that we survived that. In truth, I can't remember how we survived that. I remember running, getting separated from the others. Then I'm coming to a stop on the far bank of a creek while waves of beetles swirl around trees in the distance, on the other side.
I can't get the images out of my mind.
I saw the beetles eat our supplies. So why are our supplies fuller then when we found the cherries in the first place? It can't have been hallucination; Atud's gone.
Twelfth Day of Pine:
I changed the way I start entries partway through this journal and for the life of me I can't remember why. Despite recognizing that logically I shouldn't worry about it, I can't banish the nagging suspicion that it's a sign this place had started to mess with my mind far earlier than I thought it had.
Various unformed bits:
That thing for the past three days was not Joan. I woke up to the sound of them eating Kawash.
Twentieth Fifteenth Twenty-First Fuck It I Don't Even Know:
How do I know the spells worked? How do I know they were even cast? How do I know this book is even real? Gods, we were such idiots, thinking we could do this. A band of fools, thinking we could create a universe with all the hopes and dreams of the Nihil. We never had a chance. And now we're all going to die, and the next group of poor idiots will come out here trying to do the same exact thing.
And they'll die too.
Mina left to follow the river. Last I saw of her, she was muttering something about the divinity of cabbages. Clearly, she is insane.
I managed to use what was left of Atud's supplies to make a beacon and stick it on this thing. I can't program it to tell people to go back, so I'm setting it to only broadcast a short distance, and I'm telling you, the poor idiot who found this: Go home.
As for me, well—I'm going to take a nap, and I don't think I'm going to be waking back up.
The vegetable lamb, it is said, grows in the far north, on the Paradise of Sheep and Birds.
As the goose grows from the barnacle, and mice from hay, the vegetable lamb grows form unattended scraps of wool left behind after the shepherd shears his flock.
The Egg of the Permian
the Sunjiagou Artifact, the Permian Ark, the Last Promise, SCP-1266 (by Jailors)
The Egg of the Permian is an artifact of the Xinuba, an alien culture that was active in the Cluster of Terva approximately two hundred and fifty million years ago. Similar artifacts have been found on other worlds, all sharing similar (and thus far, untranslated) script, and the quality of near invulnerability. Most are of unknown function, and no skeletons of species that might be the Xinuba have ever been uncovered.
Shortly after it was uncovered, the Egg was stolen by the Foundation. While the loss of such an ancient relic is tragic, none of the Hand have chosen to claim the Egg--it is nothing more than a curiosity, primarily of interest to the few paleontologists aware of it.
Traits: The Egg is a large ovoid made of copper, completely covered with etchings in an as of yet untranslated script. As with most Xinuban artifacts, it doesn't appear to be affected by outside forces and instead hovers motionlessly. Attempts to damage it are futile.
Nature: Left alone, the Egg hovers motionlessly and releases seeds and animals from the Permian era. Unfortunately, the Earth has left them behind, and they die slowly or do not germinate. Neither mature plants nor dead creatures were seen by the original Chinese dig team in the short time they had to study the Egg, before the Jailers took over the site.
The paleontologists who discovered the Egg were not of the Aware, so their attempts to use it were fruitless. Skilled thaumaturgists, however, can manipulate Xinuban artifacts through the law of sympathy and by forging temporal mental links with blood magic. As the Jailors would rather remain afraid in the dark than use what they arbitrary decide to be "anomalous," they no doubt remain ignorant of how to use the Egg.
History & Associated Parties: The circumstances of the Egg's burial are unknown, but it was uncovered in June 1986, in rock that dates back to the Great Dying. The dig site the Egg was found at was soon taken over by the Jailors, who made the paleontologists that discovered it forget the wonders they had seen. Two of the scientists were lucky enough to be slightly resistant to the Jailors' poisons, and recovered enough of their memories to seek out the ranks of the Aware. They are not members of the Hand, but associate with some of us. What knowledge we have of the object can be credited to their investigations.
Up to the present day, the Egg has been hoarded by the Jailers as SCP-1266.
The few remaining gods and spirits of the Permian era have a great interest in the Egg, as it could restore them to prominence. Most are only dimly aware of reality, but at least two have awoken in recent times, as advances in paleontology have given them a way to affect the world. Others have fragmented into a thousand upon a thousand shards, each within the mind of a separate god, and may be able to influence the greater whole.
Curiously, several entities not active during the Permian, such as the Mistress of Clubmosses and Ferns have displayed an interest in the Egg. What they know, if anything, remains unknown to the Hand as a whole.
Approach: Should you choose to try and approach the Egg, either approach in force or approach with great stealth. The Jailors have built one of their lairs around the Egg, and while it is not heavily fortified, the Jailors are never to be lightly trifled with. There is a Way that leads to a spot on the banks of the Yellow River several kilometers to the west of the Egg.
Do not approach the Egg, or indeed any Xinuban artifact, if you have recently been in the shadow of a total solar eclipse. They react in ways that are varied, but universally negative for bystanders.
All known Xinuban artifacts are located on worlds with connection to the Hydra's Spine. While this may be simple coincidence, this coupled with the lack of evidence for Xinuban civilization has led some to theorize that the artifacts of the Xinuban culture, or the Xinubans themselves, were sent back in time after the construction of the Spine hundreds of years ago. Xinuban artifacts of known function generally serve as archives and ways to manipulate time, so the Xinubans may have had the capability to do this of their own volition.
If true, it cannot be stated with certainty that the Xinubans were a distinct culture, or that the culture that produced the artifacts has even emerged yet.
The script of these 'Xinubans' has never been deciphered because it's not script, it's geometric decoration of the sort that dozens of peoples have used over the eons. The very existence of the Xinuban culture must be considered suspect; many of the Xinuban artifacts are from other cultures. The Sphere of Boz was the first object identified as "Xinuban," but the patina and location clearly mark it as a temporally displaced Tesseraian artifact. — Brother Hytus
Xinuban script is geometric. Statistical analysis nevertheless indicates it's a script. If other Peoples than the Xinubans have used their glyphs in designs, it's likely from finding unearthed Xinuban artifacts. And the assertions of the United Tesseraian Authority that the Sphere of Boz is from their people is nothing more than irredentism; the ruins at Boz are clearly Camdorian in origin! — Razdorfin
[[footnoteblock title=""]]
The "Doubt" section went on for the rest of the page in much the same manner. If it had been cut entirely no one would have missed anything, but Valencia supposed that whoever had had been editing the entry was loathe to poke their nose (or antennae, or other chemoreceptory organ) into a centuries old grudge. Under other circumstances she might've read it out of morbid curiosity, but the world was ending. She looked around at the others sitting at the table.
She looked across the table at the other people sitting around it. Dr. Li, independent paleontologist and part of the team that discovered the Egg. [X], the [what's the SH in China like?]. [Maxwellist] of the Maxwellists, who was there mostly because he'd compromised the Foundation's security after its internal schism. And lastly, her, delegate of the world's foremost anomalous conservation organization.
The world burned, but at the Danakil Sanctuary the ash in the air and the stench of sulfur were typical. There were few safe places these days, but a section of one of the planet's least hospitable deserts only accessible through an old lava cave was one of them. The Old Gods already had their world.
Thanks to 
KnightKnight, 
Jacob Conwell, and 
kol aumer for coming up with the Hydra's Spine and the associated lore. Thanks to 
Aelanna for writing SCP-1266.
Countless species fear and hate entropy
And what better place for them to meet than one of the greatest nexuses of Ways in reality? Wanderers flee the death of their homes like rats escaping a sinking ship, sometimes out of cowardice, sometimes out of wisdom and a hope to rebuild. The Order of Seaglass hears of what's occurred regardless.
Gods:
My dreams took me from darkness to darkness. It was suffocating; the dark was so thick it was a physical thing. I lashed out with my mind in panic but it was like tearing into fog. No matter how solid the shadows clinging to me felt, I couldn't beat them away. But as the minutes passed, I realized that they did not do more than cling to me, and my breathing slowed. Whatever this was was no friend of mine, but they were no foe either.
No enlightenment came through waiting. The presence was out there, but they seemed to take no note of me. But the shadows' grasp on me loosened with time. Eventually, inky solid shadows turned immaterial. The void surrounded me, and as I walked forward I could see pinpricks of light in the distance. My footsteps made no sound, but what I walked on felt like cold stone beneath my bare feet. And as I walked on, while I could not hear any sound, I could feel it in my bones. The reverberations grew as I walked, but slowly; I must have walked for days before noticing. Yet the pinpricks of light did not move at all.
The shadows turned thicker as I went, yet they did not bar my path and instead formed into a tunnel that stretched forward. My way was clear; I was invited inwards and the presence moved towards me. As they came towards me I saw nothing at first. But then I saw that the shadows were moving, and they were moving more rapidly as the presence drew closer. When they were on top of me, I could see the shadows writhe like a living thing.
What are you, I asked in wonder, for I had never seen their kind before. Why have you drawn me to you? The shadows said nothing, and their writhing did not change. Do you even understand me? I did not understand how they could not, but they gave no sign they did. And I could feel nothing from them. So I crouched down and poked at the floor. The shadows on the other side of whatever barrier supported me flowed towards my finger, but I could feel something akin to hesitation now. It was certainly not for my sake. It felt more like the pause one might take before wading into water. No harm can come to them, but they'd rather not get wet.
I snorted. You pulled me here, I told them, and I let you. I don't know why, but let's get this over with. I drew back my fist and punched the floor, and it was thickened shadow before I hit the ground. Darkness embraced me as I fell, but this time I embraced it too.
Rather than the abyss, my dreamscape took the form of a vast tundra valley. Mountains jutted up to either side, bare peaks rising like fangs into the clouds. The earth was painted with red, yellow, and green. Small patches of reindeer lichens broke up the plant cover. I seemed to be alone; there was a presence but they were distant.
I cannot tell how long I wandered in the dreamscape, but they did notice me eventually. Heralded by a blizzard they came, a thousand beings at once but all of them white-furred and vulpine. Their eyes glittered in the light that filtered down through the snow, amber and blue at once. No words came from their muzzle, but we were both beyond such things as speech. What was their nature, I asked? Why had they come to me while I was in the dreams of dead sleeping gods?
I am a kindred spirit, they answered. My twin lived but I did not. And I saw past the appearance that clung to to their true nature. Beneath it they were but a rotting corpse. It made me recoil in horror, but pity stirred in my heart. You can see it, they said. My children's bones lie within the ice. I still feel them, but you know them not.
I see you as you are, I said. Would you show me what it was like, when you walked the Earth? And the blizzard parted around me, and I found myself in many places at once. A steppe. A forest. A desert. I could see forever, and so I could see titans walking the Earth. I knew some of them, but others were strange to me. Some of the titans had the glow of gods upon them, and I knew these to be my companion's siblings.
It is beautiful, I said, and the fox was pleased, but sad.
It was, they said. But the titans were dead, and the gods were doomed to a slow death. They were gods of nothing, now. I was quiet for a moment. Don't go, they asked. We lie restfully, with no dreams of our own. It has been so long since I visited the mind of another fox, and remembered what it was like to live. It has been so long, and it is so hard to reach another. Those that come to us are easier, but their minds are alien.
They did not, I was sure, really care about me. They bore me no ill will and even, I think, a faint affection, but mostly they wished to live vicariously through me. It was a favor I would not mind providing, but for one thing.
But I am no fox, I said. I am human. At this they were amused, but they did not laugh.
You shape your mind like water to be closer to us. Are you so sure you're not? In the blink of an eye, I was. Had I been awake, I would have hated them for it, but in the dream it seemed only appropriate.
I remember only fragments of what happened next. I remember stalking across the snow, and the taste of warm blood between my teeth. I remember being warm despite the freezing cold. I remember being groomed and sleeping curled up with the god. It was not peaceful, but my mind was quiet. Even now, the fragments of memories are sweet.
My mind can only hold another shape for so long. I could not tell how much time had passed, but in time I returned to humanity. We talked for a while--I will not say on what--but in time I had to go.
They were sad to be trapped in dreamless sleep again. But I could scent the hope on them, for in strange aeons even dead gods may rise.
Other Peoples:
[sphinx]
As my mind drifted on the currents of dreams, I felt myself being pulled down towards a point. I didn't try to resist until I could feel myself contracting on on myself, but by then it was too late.
[frostskull]
Land, Sea, and Sky:
[storm]
[rainforest]
Yes, I did self-plagiarize but it's a minority of this entry.
The wind whistled and ruffled her fur. It was a cold wind, but her fur was thick enough to keep her warm in the dead of winter. Scents from lemmings, bear, and seal reached her nose even with it covered by her tail. Hunger gnawed at her belly and she knew that soon she'd have to go hunting again—or scavenging. She might be able to get some of the bear's kill, if she was careful. She uncurled and stretched, then started trotting towards the fast ice, ears twitching as she listened for any of her predators. Nothing, not a sound. There was only the whistling of the wind. Day was already over; the brief glow of sunlight had faded from the sky. But she could see fine. The stars were more than enough.
She trotted along, listening carefully for the sounds of any prey scurrying around beneath the snow. There were a few--but they were wary today. No sooner did she stop to get ready to pounce did they run for it. Jumping after them would be a waste of time. She kept on roving, her path taking her closer to the shore, closer to the bear's kill.
As she traveled, the reek of seal grew stronger, grew overpowering. They smelled closer than they usually were. For a moment she paused, ears straining. She could hear them faintly in the distance. She adjusted her course. The seals sounded closer than the bear kill… and seal was always good to eat. Surely they'd taste even better fresh.
When the colony came into view, she found herself hesitating. They were awfully loud, and they were big. Some were already barking at her. She didn't like that one bit. But she was hungry, and she was sure she was quicker. She pushed herself forwards, trying to give the adults a large berth. Every so often she started at an especially loud bark. There had to be an unattended pup somewhere around here…. there! The scent of the womb still clung to them. Their eyes were open, but they were young and helpless even for a pup. Their white fur provided protection from sight, but she could see their big black eyes and hear their wails.
She paced closer, listening for the sound of the mother approaching. The pup wriggled closer, curious… or perhaps just stupid enough to mistake her for their mother. They let out another wail, begging for milk, and leaned forward to sniff her.
Maybe if she'd given them another second they would have realized what was going to happen to them and tried to flop away. But she didn't. She lunged forwards, ripping into fatty flesh with her fangs. The pup's cries to their mother turned to wails of agony. Blood welled up, and her pupils dilated as lifeblood rushed into her maw. They tasted amazing, better than anyone she'd eaten before. She'd eat well this day.
Just as she ripped off her first bite, there were sudden stabbing pains on either side of her body. In the instant before she died, white wings filled her vision.
Torbjørg Gulbrandsen, Serpent's Hand member and telepath, awoke with a start. For a few seconds she lay on the floor, staring upwards and breathing heavily. The Library's lighting was still in its night-cycle, and the stone shelves of the section she'd camped out in loomed to either side of her. She could make out the faint outline of the arabesques on the ceiling, light only by a few flickering torches. The Mashriq History and Culture Wing was trafficked by day, but most visitors were diurnal--by night it was one of the better places to crash. That Ways from it led to and from so many urban centers on Earth was an added bonus. Her cell had only had to flee five blocks from the Bookburners before escaping to the Library. No one had gotten injured, they'd saved a few lost Wanderers from the Ravelwoods, and she was pretty sure the Bookburners didn't know how they'd gotten out--a good mission, in other words.
Echo was sleeping in the library too, but was camped out in the Forest Atrium like he usually did. Anna and Marcus had returned to Canada to meet with an emissary from the Nest and get supplies. Her cellmates were safe. She should have been too, but Torbjørg was increasingly finding her dreams no respite at all.
She pushed herself to her feet and started packing up her bedroll. Torbjørg had gotten enough sleep for her body, and she couldn't return to dreamwalking after intrusions like the one she'd just had. Might as well see if Echo was awake. She could use a friend to talk to.
Echo was not awake. His two foot long body was hanging in the air near the roof of the Atrium. Torbjørg could barely see him through the branches of trees from a thousand lost worlds, but she could see the glint of the long metal sickles that were his claws. It was past dawn by now, but the shadows were still long on the ground. She sat under a tree to wait and read.
She'd only finished her current chapter before she heard rushing wind. By the time she looked up, Echo was already hovering in front of her. "Morning," she said. "Sleep well?"
"I did." He cocked his head. "But you didn't, did you? That's the third time in a week you've been up early."
"I didn't," she admitted. She didn't specify why. Echo didn't know the details, but he had guessed the gist. "They don't feel like I'm making contact with anyone."
"Are the nights when you do walk in others more restful?"
"Usually. Depends on the person. I don't really do it when I'm not trying to reach someone, though." She rubbed the back of her head. "Seems kind of invasive."
"So ask someone. Maybe Marcus."
"… What about you?" Torbjørg couldn't stop herself from asking, and regretted asking as soon as she had.
Echo was silent for a moment, then quietly said, "Probably not for the best." Torbjørg winced internally. He never spoke about why he left Japan, but she knew it was after Gogyō-Kessha had become state-sponsored. She should have known better than to ask. No matter how he seemed while sleeping, his dreams were probably nightmares. "But I'm sure you can find someone."
For a few seconds, Torbjørg was quiet. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sure Marcus would be willing," she said finally. But a part of worried that he'd try to pry. Or that he'd tell Rachel, and she'd ask her. There were enough dream maladies that they might think this was one--but she was quite certain she was uninfected and safe. One of the other telepaths she'd been in contact with would've noticed if she wasn't. "So where do you think we should go next?" she asked in a blatant attempt to change the subject. "After yesterday I don't want to be on Earth for a while."
"Ugh. Anywhere but there. It is a silly place and the vegetables try to kill you."
"You don't eat vegetables."
"My claws remind them of paring knives, though." Torbjørg eyed his claws. Yeah, she could see it. Sort of. "Weirdly, not kama. I'm not sure if they're intelligent before they're harvested." Echo started to fly for the exit, and she followed.
"Artux, then."
"On fire again." The shelves rose towards the ceiling again as they left, carved with images of trees and dripping with moss. Each was one solid mass of wood that seemed to have been grown into proper shape. The books, unbothered by the moisture, had spines emblazoned with titles in a million scripts about all the cosmo's forests.
By the time they'd reached the cafes, they'd each proposed and rejected half a dozen destinations. Echo's last idea, Ctethuss, had been shot down by Tjorbørg because Marcus hated the place's smell and would surely be in a foul mood the whole time if they went. Not that they'd have to wait much longer to find out. Sure, Rachel couldn't make them do anything, but
"Nest's got nothing for us. They say Earth's too hot right now. Bookburners are up in arms about something and they don't know what."
Tjorbørg reached in a pocket and passed Echo a dollar.
"I hate to ask, but—"
"They're not interfering in my abilities, Rachel. I can still walk into other's dreams just fine. They only happen when I'm not doing that. You don't need to ask me to bench myself."
I didn't do anything, they said. I wouldn't have. I live through my children. Everything you feel comes back to me. Do you think I enjoy your pain? My fur bristled and I bared my teeth.
Maybe not deliberately. Even that admission felt like a spear through my heart. But it must be something you did! Why else am I never human in my dreams now? Why else would I always have this shape? I was not a fox, and now I am!
I don't know what happened. But you are not the first dreamwalker to come to my kind, and none changed like this. Whatever caused this change, it wasn't me.
You cannot possibly—
//All
Echo — Kamaitachi. Male. Had to flee Japan to evade the Five Elements in the 1980s. Fast, agile, and deadly. Claws can cut through most materials like butter. Cell face when handling delicate negotiations. Surprisingly sociable. Claustrophobic and repelled by calendars.
Torbjørg — First human, then Arctic fox. Telepath, and especially talented at dreamwalking. Eventually forges pact with the Fox God. Helps maintain contact with other cells and the Nest when out in the field.
Rachel — Also human. Mundane, but highly experienced and knowledgeable wanderer. Immune to conventional amnestics through a quirk of biology; they work temporarily but wear off after a few days. Got into the Serpent's Hand after the Foundation tried to mindwipe her after an encounter with SCP-1585, and she fled through a Way after recovering her memory. Cell tactician/strategist. Considers herself a professional pessimist.
Marcus — Yet another human. Magic user—not "Type Blue" thank you very much. Talented at wards and protective magics. Some minor elementalism. Cell mage and researcher. Tends to be somewhat overconfident.
Outline:
Dream sequence
Getting back into contact with the rest of the cell
Downtime; get too into projecting into the minds of foxes
Talk to Echo
Start manifesting as a fox inside dreams
Confront god, find out they didn't do any of this but she still registers as one of their kind
Attack GOC/Foundation facility, run into delicious looking lab mice or something?
Something something
Actually turning into a fox
Mouse surplus killing
Get the shit beaten out of her by an owl?
THEMES: Blurring the boundary between species. Torbjørg starts human and becomes a fox. Echo is a kamaitachi but was raised by kawauso and picked up some of their habits.
Containment Class:
euclid
[Focus on the plight of the cats, Ethic Committee subversion by the sort of creeps who are longtermists, et cetera, rather than realpolitik.]
Special Containment Procedures: The tepui upon which SCP-XXXX is present was designated a wildlife refuge prior to containment. Assets within the Brazilian government have restricted public access and increased security within the sanctuary, contracting out enforcement to a Foundation front company. The Foundation has constructed Biological Outpost-45 within SCP-XXXX's containment zone (defined as the entire wildlife refuge), for long-term research and monitoring of SCP-XXXX.
Access to the containment area is controlled with a fence, patrolled by drones and armed security. A 10 meter killzone has been created on either side of the fence to ensure clear line of fire. A secondary, minimally manned perimeter has been constructed around SCP-XXXX's tepui. SCP-XXXX is within fairly inaccessible forest and the Indigenous people that once occupied the area were removed, so civilian intrusion is of minimal risk. However, the Cryptid Specialist Group was aware of SCP-XXXX prior to containment by the Foundation and has informed their ideological allies of its existence.
Foundation assets have enough influence over the Ministry of Environment and Climate Change to threaten full or partial degazetting of other vulnerable ecosystems in Brazil, as well as compromising enforcement of environmental regulations should the Cryptid Specialist Group try to remove the Foundation from the refuge. In addition, Foundation assets have enough influence within the Ministry of Native People to set the two ministries at odds. Given transnational environmental organizations' involvement in colonialism, aggravating the issue would degrade the current political alliance between Indigenous and environmental groups within Brazil, harming the CSP greatly. Similar tactics have proven highly successful in neutralizing the threat posed by the CSP in other countries, and even forcing them to betray their allies.
Extensive analyses of Serpent's Hand activity patterns within Brazil suggest that there are no known Ways within SCP-XXXX's containment zone. While remote sensors maintain surveillance within the containment zone, the Foundation's efforts have therefore been focused on maintaining the perimeter. Should the perimeter be bypassed, both perimeters should be reinforced until a MTF can capture or neutralize the intruders.
In the event of attack by Legacy, retaliatory raids on their staff and nearby sanctuaries have been pre-authorized. Biological Outpost-45 contains sufficient supplies of Agent Orange
Description: SCP-XXXX (hereafter referred to as the Schomburgk ecosystem) is an anomalous ecosystem on top of the Schomburgk Tepui. The Schomburgk ecosystem
All life on top of the Schomburgk Tepui has co-evolved with an anomalous taxon of fungi, Ectoentropmycetes. The origin of Ectoentropmycetes is unknown; while the taxa are in the phylum Ascomycota they do not appear to be closely related to any other extant class of ascomycetes. Genetic analysis indicates Ectoentropmycetes are at least 200 million years old, far older than the Schomburgk Tepui. Despite this they have never been discovered anywhere else.
You must understand, their lives are worse than nothing on average. We're doing them a favor by reducing their numbers. There will be less suffering in the world. The pain we're inflicting on these creatures is tragic, and I deeply regret it, but it's the only way to create a better world.
Outline:
- Containmentpretend it's wildlife sanctuary; keep Legacy/SH away, intimidate Cryptid Specialist Group
- Descriptiontepui with anomalous ecosystem
- Plant life extensively interwoven with telepathic fungi and lichen, beyond even normal plants
- Foundation suspects quantum tunneling (it does not use quantum tunneling; on some level they know that which is why it's classified as anomalous)
- All animal life has been interwoven in the same way, resulting in a variety of unusual adaptations and increased intelligence
- In ocelots, this has given rise to true sapience
