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{$doesthisfixthebug} rating: +55+–x Cyvstvi The Smeerenburg Daemon by Cyvstvi More by this author Item#: 5831 Level3 Containment Class: euclid Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: A 5km nautical exclusion zone has been established around the ruins of Smeerenburg, Norway. Additionally, a fenced perimeter has been erected around the ruins and access to the village is forbidden to civilians.
Cover Story 5831.18 "Hazardous Waste Disaster" is currently being disseminated to local and national media, reporting that an oil spill has occurred within the unincorporated region of Svalbard.
MTF Omega-15 "Bag and Tag" has been given permission to locate instances of SCP-5831-1 and terminate them as appropriate to prevent them from entering the ocean.
Description: SCP-5831 is the rudimentary effigy of an unknown cetacean, constructed almost entirely from the blubber, bones, flesh, and assorted viscera of dead Balaena mysticetus.1 The head cavity of SCP-5831, which would ordinarily contain the spermaceti organ in Balaena mysticetus, has been filled with an organ of unknown origin. This unidentified organ is attached to the spinal column of SCP-5831 and resembles a coiled umbilical cord.
SCP-5831 was discovered in an abandoned whaling warehouse in Smeerenburg, Norway. The effigy was strung vertically from the ceiling, surrounded by a plethora of unidentified miscellaneous whale carcasses.
Individuals who are exposed to SCP-5831 exhibit an abnormal psychological disorder characterised by an obsession with the ocean and vast, open bodies of water. Due to SCP-5831's proximity to the Arctic Ocean, affected individuals will typically gather at the cliffs north of Smeerenburg and stare listlessly at the ocean, remaining motionless for hours at a time.
During this period, the brains of affected individuals will undergo severe morphological changes as spiral-shaped holes begin to form within the frontal lobe. This damage to the brain's structure results in the impairment of mental faculties with affected individuals only being able to complete simple self-preservation behaviours such as swallowing and breathing.
Following the complete structural degradation of the brain, affected individuals will begin roaming the shoreline of Smeerenburg in an attempt to locate cetacean remains. Upon locating sufficient material, the affected individuals will begin to construct whale-like imagery. These images range in complexity, with personnel witnessing anything from simple images of cetacean wildlife made from whale bones to effigies resembling SCP-5831.2 If no cetacean remains can be found by affected individuals, they will begin to draw perfect spiral shapes into the beach using their hands and feet.
At this point, the brain matter of affected individuals will have been completely eradicated. The resultant cavity is filled with a coiled organ of unknown purpose attached to the individual's brain stem. Affected individuals are henceforth designated SCP-5831-1.
Instances of SCP-5831-1 will undergo a series of rapid morphological and physiological alterations: The lower and upper jaws will elongate wildly, curving to almost meet one another, as the remainder of the cranium recedes from the jaw. The orbital cavities and eyes will migrate to either side of this deformed cranial structure.
The shoulder girdle will extend as the humerus, ulna, and radius rotate perpendicular to the body. The skin covering the hands will thicken as the fingers fuse into a set of fins.
The spinal column will extend, fusing with the pelvis, fibula, patel, and tibia into a singular bone structure. The feet of the instance will also rotate perpendicular to one another as they are covered with a similarly thick skin.
The entire instance will become covered with a layer of thick insulated skin as the fat tissue underneath morphs into a vascularised adipose tissue similar to blubber.
The pulmonary system will migrate from the mouth to the back as a small blowhole-like formation begins to appear on their dorsal side.
• • • • • The teeth of SCP-5831-1 will separate from the gums, producing strand-like formations that resemble hairs of baleen.3 These hairs will fuse with the roof and floor of the mouth, which have become plates of calcium.
The head cavity of the instance, normally containing the brain and spermaceti organ, will have been filled with a coiled organ resembling the one present within SCP-5831. Its purpose remains unknown.
Many of the resultant instances of SCP-5831-1 will become stranded and beached upon the shoreline, finding themselves unable to enter the ocean. They will typically expire as a result of dehydration, collapsing under their own body weight, or drowning at high tide.
Foundation personnel are reminded that instances of SCP-5831-1 must not be allowed to enter the ocean under any circumstances and, as such, are advised to terminate instances on sight.
Addendum 5831.1: History Fig 1.1:The Whale-oil Refinery near the Village of Smerenburg, Cornelis de Man, 1639.
Smeerenburg was established in the early 17th century by Danish and Dutch whaling fisheries, hoping to exploit the rapidly expanding whaling industry. The main products of Smeerenburg were boiled blubber oil, whale bone, spermaceti oil, and other miscellaneous whale commodities harvested from the "Greenland right whale", now identified as the bowhead whale. At the time, these animals were endemic to the Fram Strait, located in the Arctic Ocean.
By the mid-17th century, the whaling community at Smeerenburg had driven the bowhead whale into near extinction, prompting their migration habits further north. This eventually resulted in the bowhead whale entirely avoiding the island of Svalbard, which Smeerenburg was situated on. The settlement was almost completely abandoned sometime during this time period. It is believed that SCP-5831 was constructed by the final inhabitants of the community, c. 1660s.
A series of documents, written in Dutch, were recovered from the island during initial containment efforts. They were located on a flensing table next to SCP-5831, stained with an unidentified yellow residue.
Diary of an Unknown Whaler July 6th, 1662 The whales are fleeing.
Everybody on this blasted island knows the truth of it. Well, the fifteen of us that chose to stay here. We were planning on wintering on Svalbard and catching a few whales for ourselves; proving to everyone back home in Amsterdam that there's a life worth living out here. I ain't seen a whale in weeks.
Our last catch was back in June. A sickly calf that had beached itself beside the try pots, struggling and rolling about in a desperate attempt to get back into the sea. We were starving and ravenous and so we descended upon the diseased whale like it was the last meal we were like to see in a long while.
• • How right we were.
The little lad has lasted a good while for us. Cornelis cured some of the remaining meat and hung it out to dry in the warehouse just south of the cliffs. My mouth gets wet every time I walk by its dry, rotting corpse. I find myself pacing back and forth by the shore more often these days; catching its acrid scent wafting on the frigid winds of Svalbard.
I need to get out more.
July 13th, 1662 Blessed Christ, how you deliver a bountiful feast to us in our direst hour.
Willem and Jan were out on the boat and I spotted their signal flags waving high about on the masts. I rushed down to shore, hardly a moment to grab by weathered boots, as they hauled their catch ashore.
It was like something had crawled off Olaus Magnus's cartographs - a bloody monster.
The beast, undulating and smooth of skin, had an assortment of wriggling vestibule limbs all about its torso that were snared within the netting of the boat. Thrashing and slamming against the tiny trawler, it nearly upturned the small sailboat.
Willem held a harpoon in one arm and flung it down into what can only be described as the beast's head. It squealed, much like a pig in pain, as it swung its head about to smash into the trawler's side. Jan then descended onto the thing as they hauled it ashore, still entangled within the netting, and cracked his paddle against the harpoon, driving it deeper into the skull with a sickening crunch. A milky, pale liquid seeped out of the wound as the beast ceased all movement.
I rushed over to help Jan and Willem down from the trawler as the other men of the community ran over to us; desperate to understand what the tumult and chaos was about. Jan collapsed to the floor in a fit of laughter, prompting quizzical looks from all onlookers, myself included.
He looked up at us and smiled, before pronouncing: 'I killed the Devil himself, lads.' July 14th, 1662 Jan and Willem have taken to bed, complaining of headaches and nausea. Pieter was busy nursing them with gruel and soup, but their constant complaining soon drove him from their bedsides.
Meanwhile, the rest of us set about carving what has become known amongst the men as the Smeerenburg Daemon. A fitting name - for Maarten swears on his mother's gravestone that as they began to take the creature apart, he saw something squirm free from its skull and dart off into the ocean.
Its flesh is pale and white like an oyster's and it bleeds a pale milky substance with the consistency of winter-strained sperm oil. One of the lads dared the other to put his finger in its skull cavity but Maarten quickly swatted his hand back. He doesn't trust the Daemon and I cannot say that I blame him.
Tomorrow, we'll set off for the mainland and haul part of the Smeerenburg Daemon with us so we can show the whole world that Smeerenburg is still worth its weight in coin.
July 15th, 1662 I fear a great malaise has struck Smeerenburg. Five lads including Maarten now sit in their beds, complaining of vigorous headaches and the sloshing sounds of a half-filled bucket of water rocking about inside their mind.
Jan and Willem are struck with it worst. They sit at the cliffs, their legs dangling above the ocean, as they stare out over the sea without a single care in the world. I've been wandering more and more by the seashore, mostly to get away from the ghastly aroma of that blasted Daemon that now resides within the warehouse. Its scent combines with the rotting flesh of the little whale calf to create a most unpleasant smell that burns the back of your throat with bile.
The ocean is so pleasant tonight. Not a single wave mars its perfect surface. Still and beautiful.
July 17th, 1662 Willem, Maarten, Jan, and the other lads have gone mad. This disease has seeped through the air and into their minds. They now prowl the shores, gathering lumps of meat, bones, and blubber oil, and dragging it in buckets and wheelbarrows up to the warehouse that houses that Daemon.
At night, I can hear them flensing and prying the poor beast into pieces. Bones snap and flesh tears as I rock myself to sleep in the hammock. Their work is unceasing and diligent.
When I sleep, my mind is stolen from me. I hear only the sounds of the tide as a vast darkness consumes me, dragging me down and down into the ocean. I feel myself coiling tighter and tighter, catching glimpses of something in the murk. I feel so small as I'm trapped inside crude decaying flesh and broken bones that were forced into a new shape. My days are just as unsteady. I feel tugged towards the shore as if swallowed by a great emptiness. An in-transient loneliness.
I should go see what my friends are doing.
[unintelligible scribbles] Cold. Wet. Moist.
My body hurts: my jaw aches and my head feels light.
I cannot find the others. The warehouse is empty besides bits of rotting and decrepit whales and that monster hanging from the ceiling. Its mouth is curved in all the wrong places. They've done a horrible job at creating the whale.
They?
My head aches - something numb fills my head but then my mind coils and curls in all the wrong places. My stomach feels empty and my teeth hurt so much.
The ocean.
I need to go to the ocean.
Footnotes 1. Also known as the bowhead whale.
2. These effigies are non-anomalous.
3. The filter-feeding system used by cetaceans to filter prey from water.
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