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Could this be the one he cannot?
rating: +66+–x VIDEO LOG DATE: March 12, 2024 LOCATION: Site-87 (Nx-18 / Sloth’s Pit, Wisconsin) [BEGIN LOG] [Footage depicts a large containment room with SCP-████, a Holland-class submarine, in the centre. There are several Foundation researchers using equipment and terminals situated around the anomaly to study it.] [A faint light becomes visible through the west wall, shining through the opaque brickwork from a point beyond it; several researches notice this and highlight it to the others. The light slowly grows in intensity, and everyone present moves away from the wall.] [A figure in a crimson cloak stumbles backward out of the wall, tripping over a power cable and falling onto their back. Seconds later a white horse with rider emerges at full gallop, colliding with a desk and flinging the rider a moderate distance as the horse tumbles. Both jump back to their feet, the rider glancing about wildly before calming his horse and mounting it again.] [The researchers all abandon their tasks and run for the room’s sole exit, one triggering the room’s containment alarm as they go. The siren startles all three entities; cloaked figure rolls over and covers their ears, while the rider soothes the horse again and spurs it to follow the fleeing researchers.] [The robed figure briefly looks toward the west wall, then sprints toward the exit; the last of the researchers escape, and the room’s doors close and lock behind them. The figure searches for a way to open the doors, but finding none looks for a different escape route.] [The robed figure runs to a toppled desk nearby and hides behind it.] [The rider and their horse gallop down several hallways throughout Site-87, travelling as quickly as the latter is willing to go; security personnel have by now triggered the site- wide breach alarm. They follow the direction of any Foundation personnel they encounter — who are forced to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled — and otherwise blindly maintain their current direction, turning randomly whenever forced to.
When clearly seen, the rider’s face is completely tattooed, and his expression is of fear and confusion.] [The horse turns a corner and encounters a small security team who raise their weapons. The rider forces the horse to stop and rear on its hind legs — nearly falling off as it does — so it can turn back around and flee.] [A short while after the pair find their way to the Site-87 main freight reception, where cargo trucks are being used to allow the loading bay doors to be closed; the last is shut shortly after they arrive, giving a brief glimpse of the site’s exterior beyond. The sparse few security personnel ready their weapons and signal for the rider to dismount and surrender.] [The rider tightens their grip on the reigns. He says something and performs a gesture, causing a string of tattoos along one arm to glow, then point at the recently-closed door; a ball of fire launches from his fingertips and violently explodes on impact, creating a large hole to the facility’s exterior. Nearby personnel are knocked to the ground or stunned by the blast. The horse panics, but the rider manages to stay mounted and calms the horse enough to spur it through the hole.] [The horse gallops up the basement ramp then along the adjoining fenced area, jumping over the boom gate and onto the main street of Sloth’s Pit. The rider briefly pauses to search the surroundings, particularly lingering on the nightlife of Sloth’s Pit, then steers his horse into the nearby forest, disappearing into the darkness between the trees.] [END LOG] Afterword: SCP designation of the incident and entities involved is pending.
The robed entity was captured by security personnel several minutes later, apologising for intruding into ‘Triumvirate’s domain’ and offering an exchange of information for its freedom.
Item #: SCP-8249 Object Class: Uncontained / Euclid Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8249-A is uncontained, and currently travelling approximately north-west along the Canada-United States border. SCP-8249-A must be captured by non-lethal means; extreme caution must be exercised as the entity is highly non-cooperative and possesses advanced thaumaturgic capabilities, however SCP-8249-A is not openly aggressive or hostile unless provoked.
SCP-8249-C currently resides in a temporary humanoid containment chamber at Site-87, and is provided with standard humanoid meal rations. SCP-8249-C is compliant with Foundation personnel and inquiries, and will willingly exchange information with others; it is unclear to what extent the information they provide is embellished, however, and personnel must avoid divulging information to SCP-8249-C without approval from assigned supervisors.
Description: SCP-8249 designates several entities and their possessions, which appeared in the temporary containment chamber of SCP-████ at Site-87 on March 12, 2024. Despite manifesting within and possessing characteristics typical of Nexus-18, the constituents of SCP-8249 are able to leave the Nexus without degredation of their properties.
SCP-8249-A is a human male individual identified by SCP-8249-C as ‘Adam of the Transient.’ The individual’s skin is completely tattooed with monochromatic, unidentified glyphs, which enable SCP-8249-A to perform advanced thaumaturgic spells. SCP-8249- A possesses two swords, both reportedly anomalous, and a white mare with abnormal stamina used for transportation.
SCP-8249-C claims SCP-8249-A is a prolific hero-figure in their reality of origin, with recounted stories of their exploits extolling SCP-8249-A’s moral character and combat prowess, especially in sword fighting; it is unclear to what extent SCP-8249-C has embellished these stories for dramatic effect. SCP-8249-A has consistently avoided population centres, and only approaches solitary individuals for brief periods of time.
SCP-8249-C is a humanoid entity reportedly referred to by SCP-8249-A as ‘Bard.’ The entity’s physical characteristics have continuously changed throughout containment, including height, weight, eye colour, scarring, and so on; although SCP-8249-C has always maintained the general appearance of a human, the entity has not elaborated whether this is a limitation in ability or simply personal preference. The robe worn by SCP-8249-C exhibits similar properties, and is the entity's prefered clothing.
Addendum 2: Interview of SCP-8249-C Interviewed: SCP-8249-C Interviewer: Researcher Le Guin [BEGIN LOG] [SCP-8249-C is standing in the corner of an interview room, staring up at the surveillance camera. Researcher Le Guin enters the room, closing the door behind her; SCP-8249-C turns at the noise and points at the camera.] Researcher Le Guin: Good evening, Anomaly Dash-C. I am Wynne Le Guin. I would like to ask you some questions if I could.
SCP-8249-C: What is it?
[Researcher Le Guin sits down at the interview table.] Researcher Le Guin: That is a camera. Please, take a seat.
SCP-8249-C: What does it do?
Researcher Le Guin: It is a surveillance device. It records what it sees and allows my associates to watch us. Please, sit, so we can begin.
[SCP-8249-C turns back and stares at the camera.] SCP-8249-C: A Triumvirate looking-glass. Fascinating.
[SCP-8249-C reaches up to touch the camera, but are too short; they hop repeatedly but still fail to reach it.] Researcher Le Guin: Please leave it alone. If you sit — SCP-8249-C: Ask away, I don’t need to sit.
[SCP-8249-C continues jumping for a short while, then stops and simply stares at the camera.] Researcher Le Guin: Very well. Your name, please?
SCP-8249-C: Which?
Researcher Le Guin: Which…?
[SCP-8249-C turns to Le Guin, counting off using their fingers.] SCP-8249-C: Trinculo, Albertine, Samson, Eltevar, Wordmaker, Marie-anne, Goldervas, Malcheron, One-who-walks-beneath-well-woven-crimson-robes… as with those of Ebutapakht, I have many names for many purposes. If you want only one, be very specific.
Researcher Le Guin: Your birth name, then.
[SCP-8249-C shakes their head and turns back to the camera. Their eyes are now green.] SCP-8249-C: I had none when I was born, but through many years of toil I now possess at least three hundred.
Researcher Le Guin: You have over three hundred different aliases?
SCP-8249-C: That’s what I said, yes. A fine collection if I do say so myself, and all of them worth it.
Researcher Le Guin: I… see. Do you have a preferred alias, then? One you use the most?
[SCP-8249-C scoffs.] SCP-8249-C: That would be ‘Bard’, though it isn’t a preference, for I have none. But Adam always calls me Bard, and he speaks of me the most, though rarely in happy tones.
Researcher Le Guin: May I call you Bard, then?
SCP-8249-C: If you wish, though if you have other names to offer I will be happy to accept them. Probably. Not Svaldi, for reasons you should understand. What was it you called me before?
Researcher Le Guin: Anomaly Dash-C.
[A pause; SCP-8249-C bobbles their head in thought.] SCP-8249-C: No. Not that one.
Researcher Le Guin: I will refer to you as Bard, then. To begin: how did you come to be here?
[SCP-8249-C laughs, then turns to face Researcher Le Guin, raising their arms for dramatic effect.] SCP-8249-C: There I was, standing amongst the towering pillars in the hall of Old King Enbarr, a great and cavernous space the size of which you could scarce compare to any elsewhere; before me — at a fair distance, of course, but not too far — was a mighty clash of man against monster, the valiant Adam of the Transient embroiled against one of the fiercest forces among the unseen lord’s host. An archon, no less! What a battle it was! Many times Adam came close to death, but he deftly dodged — Researcher Le Guin: Please, Bard. If you could summarise — SCP-8249-C: Shh! He, Adam, darted behind the mighty columns of the place, escaping the frightful oblivion-flame which sought him, instead scouring the impeccable designs from all it touched, leaving only basest details behind; so too did he evade the ruinous blows of mighty limbs, which found purchase in many pillars and tore them asunder.
Such destruction will scar that one-mighty hall forevermore — and the sound! The cries of archon, the roars of Adam, the smashing of stone against stone. All of it ringing out evermore, echoing through eternity as though that lone battle was one of millions, and none would ever reach their close. The spectacle of it was grand to behold!
Researcher Le Guin: But how did you arrive here?
SCP-8249-C: The battle turned, and sourly so. I will witness such feats from afar with ease and glee; but when harm comes my way, I am less courageous, and more eager to flee. I… I saw the turn and moved to run — and then in an instant, I found myself here, and Adam shortly thereafter.
Researcher Le Guin: You don’t remember anything happening in-between?
SCP-8249-C: One step was there, the next was here. I know nothing further, other than that it was not my design to intrude upon Triumvirate’s domain. Adam may know, perhaps.
Researcher Le Guin: And Adam would be the one who came here with you? Riding the horse?
[A pause. SCP-8249-C steps over to the interview table and sits down.] SCP-8249-C: You… did not recognise him?
Researcher Le Guin: No. Should I?
SCP-8249-C: Do you know who he is? Adam of the Transient?
Researcher Le Guin: I do not, no.
[A pause. SCP-8249-C looks around.] SCP-8249-C: Fascinating.
Researcher Le Guin: Care to explain?
[No response.] Researcher Le Guin: Bard?
SCP-8249-C: I thought you were Triumvirate by the design of this place, but… do you even know anything of the Three Eternal Tyrants?
[A pause; Researcher Le Guin doesn’t respond. SCP-8249-C nods, leaning back in their seat.] SCP-8249-C: A land so far beyond Tyrant’s reach, they are beyond all thought. How… how fascinating. But you are questioning me to learn, are you not?
Researcher Le Guin: Will you cooperate?
[SCP-8249-C scoffs.] SCP-8249-C: I am not called Bard without reason. It is a great honour to bring these tales to this land — of the endless warring between the ever-covetous Three Eternal Tyrants, of the heroes of the Transient kingdoms, even of the treacherous Svaldi Storm- in-the-Eye. But you want to know first of Adam of the Transient, do you not? I will gladly tell you of our yet-greatest hero, of his insurmountable might, his indominable will, his enduring, unwavering resolve.
Researcher Le Guin: Thank you. If you could begin by — SCP-8249-C: But a bard must earn their keep. I expect food, drink, and shelter; I am similarly interested to learn of your lands as well. Each saga shall be met with your own.
Researcher Le Guin: I will have to discuss with my superiors, but I believe we will be able to meet those terms.
SCP-8249-C: I am not to be interrupted while speaking. I will tell my tale in full, then I may be asked for clarity on points.
Researcher Le Guin: That is… workable, but an interview format would be most beneficial to learn facts — SCP-8249-C:Ah, I see. You are only interested in facts? Of names, times, and places, devoid of flair and soul, drained of the atmosphere and circumstances they took place within? That is what you want to hear from me?
Researcher Le Guin: That would be preferred, yes.
[SCP-8249-C crosses their arms.] SCP-8249-C: Tough shit. The emotion and vigour of events are as valuable as what you seek. You will hear both, or you will hear neither. Go, survey my conditions.
[END LOG] Afterword: SCP-8249-C refused to communicate for the remainder of the interview. The entity’s terms were accepted.
Addendum 3: Narrative Provided by SCP-8249-C regarding SCP-8249-A ‘Of the Origins of Adam of the Transient and the Inheritance of the Sword of Ages’ Where else should one begin with the legends of the great Adam of the Transient, than with the first? Yes! To understand that mighty hero’s drive toward his later magnificent triumphs, you must first know of how he gained the Sword of Ages, and became the man known as Adam.
No other can claim greater rise than he, for the growing dawn of his epics was wrought from the passing of a great and deepest darkness, as the final hours of a night. His birthplace once was a great and mighty city, the crowning jewel of a prosperous Transient kingdom, but as all others it changed into ruin among the unending turmoil between the Three Eternal Tyrants. A crowning jewel, but not their own; each sought to claim it their own by divine right, or otherwise deny it the others.
So Adam was born the company of farmers, not lords, and among the crumbling, scorched ruins of what once was, night-worthless in the eyes of his kind and in the eyes of the greater powers whose designs made it so.
He grew as all his kin did, hearing his elders recount the glory of those bygone golden days as he tilled the earth and shovelled slop. He heard memories of traders ever- coming and ever-going, where now only taxmen come to collect each Tyrant’s tithe; he learned of the soaring beauty of the city, of grand, towering buildings and the mighty, indominable walls that protected them, now lying sundered among fields between beggars’ homes that leak beneath rain; he envisioned men, women, and children of might and opulence, celebrating bountiful boons in flowing robes of silk, purple, and gold, but saw in present only brethren in sackcloth toiling through mud, and often their only celebration was to sleep with satisfied bellies.
Adam coveted those days — an age he had never seen nor truly known, except as seen through fading, idyllic memories and the promise of crumbling ruins before they were torn down, yielding room for the burdens of the lesser present. Time and toil tried to erode him too, but Adam held fast in his hope that those greater days could be reclaimed. Even until he came of age, and shouldered the worries it brought; even until a year and half after, when to the crumbling village came an aged man with an aged sword.
No name did he give, but one proven false in time; he I had better call Saul, as elsewise he will be let nameless, for his true name is lost within time. He spoke of faraway lands unimagined by the farmers, too focused on scavenging endless tithes to dwell upon useless ideas such as ‘elsewhere.’ He brought news of the Tyrants’ unending bickering — of borders moved, dominions expanded, lands ravaged, salted, scorched, ruined. The domains of the Transients were leaderless and dwindling; Adam’s kin turned their thoughts to which Tyrants they would last longest beneath, which to swear hopeless fealty to.
Adam alone asked what could yet be done, how their home might be saved, how those of transient lives, power, and focus might be spared a Tyrant’s rule.
He was not mocked, for though unspoken the others around him wondered how it could be done — but not if, as the thought had long ago been relegated to fanciful impossibility, banished by the evidence around them that it had once been but would not endure. They harboured no hope for greater days, even as Saul said it could be done, if one would but take up the mantle; so Adam did, when no-one else would.
From summer’s dawn to winter’s peak the wizened man stayed in their company, each entrusted into care of the other. Saul had been a swordsman of renown in his own time, he said; he taught Adam to the greatest extent he could, and Adam in turn shirked many of his responsibilities to devote greater time to the training. By autumn he kept only what was needed to feed himself and his teacher, the rest given to others who benefitted well from his springtime sowing; once harvest passed Adam devoted nigh on every waking moment to his training, though Saul’s health was dwindling, and the extent to which he taught shortened with every passing day. By winter’s rise all he could do was speak from what would be his deathbed, and shortly thereafter his words changed from education to self-reflection.
The prime of Saul’s exploits had coincided with the faded Transient golden age, for the former had wrought the latter; the Three Eternal Tyrants can never be bested except by each-other — and dare I say, if even that — and none of them are tolerant of Transients forever. But their eternal conflict could be controlled, maintained at a balanced, perpetual deadlock, leaving the Transient kingdoms untouched within the eye of the storm.
This had been Saul’s aspiration, as it had been his predecessors, and so too would it be Adam’s; for a perpetual deadlock demands perpetual maintenance, and the duty need be passed once those pursuing it are weakened and slowed by age, else the storm’s eye would close forevermore upon the Transients thriving within. Saul had succeeded for many a decade, but his works were undone early, brought to ruin by the treachery of the once-great Skadi Storm-in-the-Eye — but that is another tale.
Saul was found passed on the dawn of winter’s solstice, his life and body well full of years and the wearies they bring. He was buried among the heart of the ruins; the crowning jewel of a kingdom which flourished with his protection, and crumbled once without. None knew much of him but Adam, and he found few words in mind, fewer still he could bear to speak.
Adam’s mourning did not soften until the winter did in kind.
When the last snow fell and the first birds sung again, his mind turned toward fulfilling the duty he had been entrusted. He took up his tutor’s blade, the ancient Sword of Ages; a legendary blade passed down for untold aeons through innumerable revered heroes, the emblem and reminder of their unending duty to distract the Three Tyrants — a sword often spoken of in Transient epics, the persistent thorn which defied all greater powers, but scarcely recognised through its mundane, unassuming appearance. Many times it had been forgotten or lost; always it returned, and new wielder would carve the Transients’ golden age anew.
Adam’s final farewell came when the roads to elsewhere were clear once more. His kindred found him both familiar and unknown, the man who grew among them and someone new, someone greater than had been seen in many an age. Those who had lived during the greater days found his stature bringing memories of that time to mind, and they bid him good parting, their hearts housing a newfound glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, those greater days could be again.
He departed alone with only his sword and name to him. He was not yet certain where he was going, but he found his way in time. Ever since, the tales of Adam of the Transient have grown and grown — tales of trials, tales of triumph. Stories of might, and stories of hope.
Note/s: Story exchanged for the history of the Sea Peoples, as known by consensus society. SCP-8249-C was predominantly uninterested in the records, excluding recounts of known battles and speculation on the Sea People’s origins; SCP-8249-C accepted the exchange, but clarified they would only accept prose narratives in future. The Brothers Grimm rendition of Little Red Riding Hood was offered to and accepted by SCP-8249-C to appease it.
Addendum 4: SCP-8249-A Capture On July 26, 2024, a civilian in the region of Swift Current, Saskatchewan reported to emergency services that an individual matching SCP-8249-A’s description was in urgent need of medical help; a Foundation task force was dispatched under the guise of paramedics, however SCP-8249-A fled the scene before they could arrive.
Two hours later a second, similar call was received, and the task force was dispatched again.
[BEGIN LOG] [Four agents are in an ambulance, driving down a gravel road at speed; Agents John Martin and Ben Jacques are in the front wearing paramedic uniforms, while Agents Roland King and Esther Lewis are in the patient compartment, wearing Royal Canadian Mounted Police uniforms. Agent Martin turns the vehicle onto a driveway leading toward a homestead, where a man is waving both arms for attention.] Agent Martin: Look, the horse — he’s still here.
[Agent Martin points at SCP-8249-A’s horse, grazing near the front of the house; it looks up at the approaching vehicle and panics, bucking about. The civilian attempts to calm it.] Agent Martin: Get ready back there, he’s probably going to run again!
[All four agents pre-emptively remove their seatbelts; Agent Jacques mumbles and makes the sign of the cross, while Agent King prepares a tranquiliser rifle. The horse becomes increasingly erratic the closer the vehicle gets to the house. SCP-8249-A is briefly seen through a downstairs window.] Agent Martin: We’re made, go! Go!
[The vehicle skids to a halt and all four agents jump out in unison, non-lethal weapons drawn; the civilian raises their hands. A shrill whistle is heard from the house, and the horse sets off toward the rear; Agent King hits its flank with a tranquiliser dart. Agent Lewis pursues the horse; Agent Roland navigates to the other side of the building; Agents Martin and Jacques enter through the front door, seeing SCP-8249-A flee through the back.] Agent Martin: Stop!
[Agents Martin and Jacques pursue; there is a loud crash as SCP-8249-A topples a freestanding shelf to block the door, forcing them to turn back. Agent Lewis reaches the back of the house as SCP-8249-A attempts to mount the horse with a running vault as it passes, but a significant limp prevents him from completing the manoeuvre and he falls off after a short distance, screaming in pain as he tumbles. Agent Lewis rushes in to restrain him as Agent King appears at the opposite end of the building, the horse galloping past and beginning a wide turn.] [SCP-8249-A tries to climb back to his feet, but Agent Lewis pushes him back down, eliciting a shout of pain and another whistle. The two struggle briefly, however SCP-8249-A is visibly sluggish and his breathing is loud and heavy.] Agent Lewis: Stop resisting! Adam, we’re trying — Agent King: Esther, move!
[Agent King pulls Agent Lewis away as the horse charges over, rearing on its hind legs to attack and forcing the pair back. Agents Martin and Jacques arrive, and the four agents spread out to encircle SCP-8249-A, but are kept at bay by the horse.] Agent Lewis: Roland, did you get it?
Agent King: I got it, just give it a minute or two!
[SCP-8249-A slowly gets to his feet, putting all his weight on one leg, then attempts to mount his horse again; he is again unsuccessful, partially dislodging the saddle, and is unable to try again as the horse becomes unsteady, stumbling away before collapsing onto the ground. SCP-8249-A draws a sword, constantly turning and looking about, tracking the four agents positioned around him. His stance is unsteady.] Agent Jacques: Adam, I need to help the horse, and I need to help you. Just calm down, and let’s talk.
[SCP-8249-A steadies his grip. Agent King subtly draws his taser and nods to Agent Martin, who is positioned on the opposite side of SCP-8249-A.] Agent Martin: Hey!
[SCP-8249-A turns to Agent Martin; Agent King fires his taser into SCP-8249-A’s back.
He seizes and drops his sword, then falls face-first into the ground; Agents Martin and Lewis rush in to restrain SCP-8249-A, while Agent Jacques sprints over to the horse to restrain it and administer an antidote.] [SCP-8249-A attempts to struggle, but is too weak to meaningfully resist. Once he is handcuffed, Agent Lewis steps over to the sword and picks it up; she gasps and throws it a small distance away.] Agent Martin: You good? What happened?
[Agent Lewis does not respond, staring at the sword. Agent King puts away his taser and steps over to pick the sword up.] Agent Lewis: Don’t touch it!
[Agent King pulls his hands back. Agent Esther crouches down beside SCP-8249-A, rolling up one leg of his pants; the entire leg is covered in a large, swollen blood blister.] Agent Martin: Holy — Agent Lewis: Jacques, we need antivenom, now!
[Agent King sprints over to Agent Jacques to swap places with him.] Agent Martin: Adam, talk to us, do you remember the snake? What colour — Agent Lewis: Sandy with brown patches along the back. Prairie rattlesnake.
[Agent Martin glances at Agent Lewis.] Agent Martin: How would you know that?
Agent Lewis: The sword gave me his memories, and everyone whose ever held it — he was bitten by a prairie rattlesnake yesterday afternoon. I remember it.
[END LOG] Afterword: SCP-8249-A was immediately transported to Cypress Regional Hospital for emergency treatment and stabilisation before being relocated to Site-87. The horse was similarly collected and relocated once sedated. All civilian witnesses were informed SCP-8249-A was a fugitive wanted for non-violent crimes in the state of Minnesota.
From: tni.pcs.hcem|372vonavi#tni.pcs.hcem|372vonavi To: tni.pcs.cca|870neldarb#tni.pcs.cca|870neldarb Subject: SCP-████ Look, this submarine has been sitting here in Site-87 for… I don’t even know how long, and that’s proof enough that it’s already been too long.
We aren’t properly equipped to study it. It’s out of our purview. We’re preoccupied with all the storylines this town keeps concocting, and the longer this piece of junk is taking up space here, the more likely it is to turn into a MacGuffin, or a red herring, or one of half a dozen other tropes that will make our lives hell.
Logistics can pick it up and take it to Site-██, I’m sure the guys over there will find something useful with it. It’s not staying here any longer.
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