Lawbert Celebrates Mari Lwyd - SCP Foundation

Halt, boney horseface, do not enter this place, You stray from procedure, let us first state our case.

"Is it still there?"

"Yes."

"Shit."

"Yes."

Knock knock knock

Doctor Kellan leaned closer until his nose was inches from the monitor, squinting at the vaguely-festive creature displayed on it. Instead of responding with her usual single syllable, security officer Novotny stoically responded with zero syllables as Kellan's dangling lanyard batted against her face.

"I thought it only went after site whatever up in Poland? What's it doing here in Massachusetts?"

"Knocking on the door, apparently."

"Thanks, Scott, I hadn't noticed."

Knock knock knock

Agent Scott continued leaning against the wall in the manner of someone who knows it's not his job to come up with a solution, and instead has to wait for someone to tell him what absolute bastard of a plan he's going to have to carry out. When he started this job, he and his slick hairdo had hoped there would be more Mission Impossible stuff. Instead, there he was trying not to make eye contact with the elf on the shelf that someone had placed in the security office as a blunt joke.

A bespectacled woman and a tall guard with a bionic arm entered the room, their aura of competency bringing the professionalism in the room back up to acceptable levels.

"Our best guess is that after the mage's college with walls of steel aggravated it, it decided to find another site to harass. Strictly speaking, we're incredibly lucky it opted for another Foundation base instead of any civilian building. This already counts as an alarming breach of containment." Doctor Sambre calmly explained.

"There's a non-alarming kind?"

Everyone turned to look at Researcher Haldings, who had somehow appeared in the room without anyone noticing. He adjusted his ill-fitting necktie nervously.

Knock knock knock

"…Will it go away if we ignore it?"

"No."

"Then can we just keep it here, outside the door? That's technically containment."

"—the best kind of containment!"

"Scott."

"Also no. Encounter logs show that if you try to game it, it gets aggressive. We've delayed a while as-is, there's no telling how long it'll be patient."

"Well, if it wants snacks, we can definitely give it some. Have we actually tried appeasement?"

"It won't stop at 'some'. We have several culinary anomalies contained here, and we can't risk it making off with any of those."

"I don't think the apple that flirts with you would be a great loss."

"Scott!"

Knock knock knock

"…So what do we do?"

The room fell silent.

Eventually, a slightly-slouched figure in an orange jumpsuit shuffled into view just outside the doorway. It cracked its neck, took in a sharp sniff of air,1 and unceremoniously announced:

"We got someone at th' door."

"We know," said everyone.

"Jes' makin' sure."

D-10334 continued to loiter outside the security office, knowing better than to try and enter but still being experienced enough to know to remain close to the people with access to the site's saferoom. Nobody told him to leave, because they also had enough experience to know that an on-hand grunt is always useful in times of crisis.

Haldings broke the silence again. "I… don't think I've actually read the file on this one. What's it's number again?"

Doctor Sambre shot a quick look at D-10334, who rolled his eyes before sticking his leathery fingers in his leathery ears. Satisfied that the data would only be heard by those with sufficient clearance, Sambre turned back to Haldings.

"6596. Valeria, would you bring it up?"

Novotny grunted, and opened a window on one of the other monitors, which Haldings scuttled up to read. As he scrolled through the document, the fingers of his free hand lightly drummed on the desk. Until they suddenly stopped, his attention caught by something. Agent Scott winced.

"What?"

"I know what's about to happen. Haldings is getting an idea."

For several of the people in the room, this did not remedy their confusion as to Scott's distress. But for a select few, a very specific type of panic set in. They type of panic one gets when they realize that something completely insane will, in fact, be their best option. Messina clutched her metal fist tightly, the sounds of The Village People's best echoing in her ears. Agent Scott remembered an awkward conversation with the site director, double-checked that the strap on his holster was secured, sighed, and accepted that the anticipated 'bastard of a plan' was at hand.

"Okay, Haldings. Weird situation means weird solution. What've you got?"

The small nerd pivoted atop his spinny chair to face his captive audience.

"Okay, hear me out. It's connected with the, uh, thicket of the, er, wee folk, right? I know we don't use this term, but, the fae?"

"Uh-huh."

"So, well, they're known for the intricate ceremonies and weird rules, like the whole name-stealing thing."

"Yes, it's a known facet of theirs."

Haldings hesitated, the combination of his spindly frame, dark skin and thick glasses making him look like an Aye-Aye. Everyone else watched him carefully, as on-edge as they would have been in the presence of the real animal. Aye-Ayes are not dangerous, but they all look like they were born for the specific purpose of spreading rabies.

Haldings swallowed, and spoke.

"Dr. Sambre, I'm making a request for cross-testing."

The air in the room held still for a moment, perhaps hoping that the impending madness would pass it by if it didn't move, before Scott stirred it back into action with a hissing exhalation through his teeth.

"Jeez. I knew it was gonna be bad, but not that bad."

"While it is true that Foundation authority does override Harald & Sons Industrial Equipment I must point out that I am above the recommended weight load of the conveyance device even after developing funny helium sacs. Furthermore the speed at which—"

Security officer Messina groaned as she pushed the wheeled cargo pallet, straining against the sheer weight of its load.

"I'm getting a headache."

"Yer, his slime'll do that to ya," responded D-10334 from the other side of the pallet, in between puffs of exertion.

"It's not the slime."

Haldings and Doctor Kellan hurried ahead of them, occasionally turning to face the bloated pink lifeform they were escorting in a sort of backwards half-run familiar to all who can't decide whether speed or a coherent explanation is more important. The corners of his lab coat flapping awkwardly, Kellan addressed the nerdbeast.

"—Okay, Lawbert, as a reminder: As always, our goal here is to avoid any loss of operational capacity of this site, and to preserve our current containment of the anomalies within. That's direct instructions for you, from a person with sufficient clearance."

"Oh, and, uh, try and avoid us losing any of our names," Haldings added.

"Veritably. As you confirmed prior to my extrication from mine habitation unit I am fully fluent in the codes and wiggles of the woodlands area I have referred to 731 times prior and will endeavor to prevent as much collateral damage as is convenient."

"…That'll have to do."

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"It's definitely getting angrier," Agent Scott (who drew the short straw and was now pushing Lawbert from behind) remarked.

"It's okay, there are no more turns. I can see the door up ahead!" shouted Haldings, waving to the rest of the group stationed by the intercom. Messina leaned in and shoved hard, narrowly steering the pallet around a faux Christmas tree in the lobby.

"Formal request for relevant information," Lawbert said, turning its beady eyes to stare at the two scientists running in front of it.

"Uh—Granted, depending on what it is," Doctor Kellan answered.

All six eyes blinked2 and Lawbert posited "What is the contingency plan for cancelling mine forwards momentum upon arrival at our destination?"

"Oh, uh, you can use your telekinesis to brake. Exert drag and all that."

"Negatory. This cannot be done at this time."

Researcher Haldings immediately sped up without comment, hoping to somehow outrun the complication in his plan, or at least the immediate consequences of it.

"What? Why?" asked the bewildered Kellan.

"Salmon misalignment. By the accord of Harv—"

"—Nevermind! Nevermind! Fuck! Sambre, get—get out of the way!"

Doctor Sambre dove out of the way just as approximately six metric tons of blubber collided with the metal door at a running pace. SCP-6596 dove out of the way just as approximately one metal door came flying off its hinges. Researcher Haldings dove out of the way just as exactly one security officer attempted to grab and yell at him. Lawbert did not dive anywhere, as he had no propulsive limbs, but he would later assure the gathered personnel that he was fine and thank you very much for asking.

The door landed in the snow outside with a "whumph".

As the dazed legal expert rolled backwards on his pallet from the spring-like function of his squishiness unsquishing, the grey mare stepped into the door, silhouetted against the sheer white of winter behind it. Its bones made a hollow clacking as it moved, beads and ribbons swaying in the chill wind. Sambre began backing away. Messina flexed her steel fingers. Scott's hand hovered over his sidearm.

The trickster-spirit spoke first, looming in the doorframe.

I must say, it warms my heart

To see new friends eager to play their part

You fling your doors open to welcome a guest

Surely you will not deny my humble request?

I have long stood (thanks to you) in this chill

Now I'm in, and I shall eat my fill.

The gathered motley crew of scientists, operatives and one test subject racked their brains for a rhyme. None suitable for polite conversation came to mind. But another voice answered first, meeting the wavering song of the intruder with an ear-piercing nasal tone.

Halt, boney horseface, do not enter this place,

You stray from procedure, let us first state our case.

The equine spectre's head jerked over to face the tongue-like behemoth, which was now oozing off of the battered pallet beneath it. Lawbert began to rear up, holding his even-more-squashed-than-usual head high and proud. His jowls danced as he continued:

I regret to inform you, friend, that I am fluent in your rituals

And furthermore regrets, we cannot share with you our victuals

Though I am not strictly employed

I have been instructed to avoid

Circumstances which would make all these fine folk annoyed

And a lack of food is quite distressing to any humanoid.

The two entities stared each other down as a hollow chuckle drifted out of the intruder.

Come now, come now, if you comprehend the humans' hunger

Then you must also understand the stress I find myself under

It's why I must now ask for permission to plunder.

My stomach aches, I'm thin to the bone

It's a miracle I can do anything more than moan

So won't you kindly let me into your home?

Messina, Scott and Haldings stared, unable to believe that Haldings' plan was working. Doctor Sambre took the initiative.

"You all, quickly! Start moving any at-risk objects!"

"But won't that make it—"

"—The anomalous ones, Haldings, not the stuff in the cafeteria."

Doctor Kellan finally got around to peeling himself off of the floor. "I'll get a list together. First priority is anything edible, so Scott, you get 7782, Messina, you fetch all the Ambrose stuff, I'll—I'll start doing triage with other items. D, just help whoever's nearby."

"Roger."

The various personnel scattered, save for three. Officer Novotny had returned to her many monitors, on a careful lookout for any further bullshit that might decide to arise. That left Haldings and Sambre to supervise the ongoing encounter and ensure compliance of their resident blob. The two scientists watched as Lawbert began another verse in response.

Although I do reside here, it is not my home to host

Strictly speaking I'm a tenant, though I pay less rent than most.

Nonetheless I speak for all when I say we cannot let you in

You must seek snackies elsewhere, to our mutual chagrin.

"He's speaking with actual sentence flow and cadence for once."

"Must be the, uh, rules of engagement?"

I've journeyed from the old country all the way to this new shore

Surely you are not telling me that I must still travel more?

In this time of giving

Where's your spirit?

If it's been speaking

I certainly don't hear it.

If you're not going to be jolly, then I shall stride on through your door!

Our door is right behind you, so go on and stride that way

Turn around and begin your trek without further delay!

And as for festive spirit, you'll find me quite hard to beat

My whole bod in all its tonnage is rosy as St. Nick's cheeks

From the tip-tips of my pedipalps to my nonexistent feet!

Pinkness matters little, if your mood is oh so miserly

Though you rhyme well, you've yet to surprise me.

Haldings looked down, shuddering at the mental image of Lawbert with feet, and noticed something. On the topic of feet, one of his own feet was tapping in time with the rhymes. He did not recall having instructed it to do so.

"Doctor Sambre?"

"Yes, Haldings, I'm aware. I don't know where the percussion track is coming from, either."

Haldings looked back up just in time to see SCP-6596 produce a fiddle from beneath its robes. Before he could decide how to feel about this turn of events, the trickster then drew its bow across the string in a long, fluid motion, drawing out a hissing screech of a chord as the walls around it began to spontaneously manifest colored ribbons and boughs of holly.

You claim to know our laws, to follow our traditions

But how long can you respond while fulfilling our conditions?

Better give up now, while you still have your own volition

Now be a dear and show me the path towards your kitchen!

The scientists began to back away, Sambre already searching through the SCiPnet channels on her phone to contact any other nearby sites for aid. Elsewhere, personnel surged through the halls in what could generously be called an evacuation. The only two thaumaturgical experts at Site-47 were on their knees, frantically scrawling wards with whatever pigments they could find3 and trying not to be too irritated when someone tripped over them and they had to start all over.

"This is Scott reporting in from Wing C. The floor is covered in pine needles all of a sudden, so I assume it's going badly up front."

"Messina here. If we get out of this, Haldings, I swear—"

Before Messina could finish her threat, a mighty scream ripped through the air, laced with nerd rage as the rising beat of only the stankiest keytar rose to clash against the fiddle, bells and drums in a psychically-projected storm. The bittersweet scents of fresh snow and forest must were met by the odor of stale glue as Lawbert's body pulsated in waves, spittle flying from his lipless mouth.

Never, never, never friend!

As per the rules, I shall only end

When I've no more verses to expend

And until then, to the power of ten

I shall maintain my rhyming trend!

With the rules laid out before me, etched in my brain like stone

I shall follow them ceaselessly, until we are naught but bone!

I am already bone, whereas you are only flab

Sitting nice and safe within your warm and cozy lab.

Surely you see

The inequity

Betwixt yourself and dear old me!

Have a heart, filled not with greed

Won't you help this poor old steed

With his dire dietary need?

My width is proof of my greater need

With no stomach, how could you feed?

The secrets of my anatomy

Will remain to you a mystery

For all time and eternity.

I will not be challenged in my native game

By a beast with rhymes so lame!

My rhymes are eloquent—

—Inelegant!

—Satisfying—

—They have me dying!

—Full of wit—

—They've not a bit!

—And entirely in-line with Tuatha de Danann decree the 44th, sub-subject: solstice ritual guidelines

Enacted by the powers of the woodlands area I have referred to 732 times!

The music died out for a second, instruments sadly deflating as Lawbert spewed jargon. There was a brief pause.

"That last one had terrible syllable balance. Also, 'guidelines' is way longer than 'times'."

"Affirmative howeverly you rhymed 'miserly' with 'me' in verse the eighth."

"I rhymed 'surprise me', not just the 'me' by itself."

"Still two separate words."

"Fine. Continue."

The beat resumed, and the opposing forces of order and chaos roared to life with it.

No matter how banal

I shall follow protocol

Forever shall I stall

To bar you from these halls!

My hunger's never-ending

It needs my constant tending

It's no use pretending

That you can keep defending!

Your gluttony shall soon spell defeat for you

Instead of a feast, try just a treat or two!

I will not be denied

Nor shall I compromise—

—I've been through the rules and poured over every word

There's nothing written in there forbidding an accord

I urge you to accept a more acceptable reward.

It's an un-written rule, which I'd think you would respect

Your words of compromise are having no effect!

You claim I can't rhyme forever

And that may be true, however

I need only hold on to my lingual tether

'Til we're no longer in week the first of December!

FINE!!!!

As the spirit roared and the music reached a crescendo, a mighty gale swept through the open doorframe. Snow danced in bitter-cold flurries that stung the cheeks and eyes of the humans present. But after a moment, the festive greenery slowly faded back into the walls as the wind died down, and SCP-6596 slumped slightly before vanishing. The boughs of holly decking the halls began to wilt. Scott and Messina whirled around and scanned their surroundings, but there was no sign of the creature.

Haldings broke the silence.

"Is it—"

With as little sound as when it had disappeared, the horse reappeared, now holding a glass bottle in one hand. Its glassy stare still trained on Lawbert, it tucked the bottle of amber-colored liquid beneath its robes.

"I accept this draw, 'twas valiantly fought. I will still be taking this, so my efforts weren't for naught."

"Veritably it was fun and cool and happy holiday! Enjoy your Doctorate Kellan's secret stash beverage. See you week the one after this one."

The two lyricists bowed to each other. The grey mare then trotted through the empty doorframe once more, fading into the falling snow until the only thing left behind was the faint tinkle of bells. After a moment those, too, faded.

Doctor Sambre watched the entity depart, before turning back to Lawbert.

"SCP-7416."

"That is me yes."

"What did you mean by… 'See you next week'?"

Haldings' eyes widened. "Oh fuck, that is what he meant by that…"

Before Haldings could finish turning to the unamused Sambre and explaining that if that thing showed up again it definitely wasn't his fault, he had given Lawbert specific instructions and there was no way he could have known that he would invite it back if that's what had happened, the great pink nerdbeast himself responded.

"Simplicity. As outlined in the 1978 Battle of the Bands Forum if two competitors should engage in musical duelage for three or more minutes with no clear leader determined in that time then they are legally obligated to either form a new band or integrate any pre-existing groups they are a part of into each other for the purposes of combining rockin' power. These rules were ratified by such greats as Queen, Zed Leppelin, Poogo the Dolphin-Boy, and a primitive version of the entity that would later come to be known by the people of Earth as Jack Black."

Doctor Sambre pinched her brow. Lawbert continued undeterred.

"I do not foresee any issues arriving from this as long as band practice does not align with week the first of December or several other dates with specific ties to the woodlands area I have referred to 733 times prior. Upon mine reunitement with yonder creature I will endeavor to schedule practice on days that are not these. I also believe noise levels should be within acceptable parameters of not immediately fatal to earthlings."

"And was SCP-6596 aware of this arrangement?"

"Probability."

Haldings, who was now sitting on the floor as a result of having to hear the phrase 'Poogo the Dolphin-Boy', piped up out of morbid curiosity to determine how much he was going to be yelled at later.

"Will it, uh, steal stuff every time it comes over?"

"Only from Doctorate Kellan's secret stash of alcoholic fluids that is not his bloodstream."

Haldings flopped over onto his back, secure in the thought that at least he hadn't doomed the entire site. This did mean that he was probably going to be demoted back to Junior Researcher for a fourth time. Doctor Sambre let out a sigh that could have curdled even coconut milk.

"Alright. We'll deal with that later. Valeria? Put a stop to the scramble, the situation has been… resolved."

Security officer Novotny nodded to the image of Sambre that appeared on her monitors, before relaying the orders through the site's intercom. Slowly the machinations of the various personnel reversed their course of action, anomalies were loaded back into their containment units and soy sauce sigils were scrubbed off the cafeteria floor. A mechanic was deployed to retrieve the front door from a snowbank and subsequently determine if it could be salvaged. Eventually, almost everything was back in its place.

As the team of first responders slowly escorted SCP-7416 back to the chamber with his name on it, Messina was the first to attempt a more casual conversation.

"Novotny says she got the whole thing on tape."

Gareth Kellan scratched his stubbly chin.

"We should put it in our holiday newsletter. Fuck, I need a drink."

"You won't find one. Sorry."

"Huh?"

"I said sorry."

"Haldings, we'll discuss fault later. And Gareth, we have many things to attend to before we can think of recreation."

"Yeah, I know. Figures all this would happen while Borgmann was away."

"Thanks to our security systems, the entire incident was well-documented, so the site Director will be able to go over it all when he returns from his meeting."

Agent Scott scoffed.

"He'll probably get a kick out of it. In terms of collateral damage, this was pretty low on the official Haldings Moment index."

"Veritably."

"In terms of spectacle, though, it was up there with Site-26."

"God, don't remind me. It gives me phantom limb."

The conversation lulled as the motley crew arrived at the open doors of the containment chamber, which Lawbert dutifully oozed through. Kellan leaned against the doorframe.

"Good job out there big guy, I guess. Maybe this will push you over into Thaumiel."

"I have no desire for reclassification I only wish to be accurately documented for the purpose of receiving maximally legally compliant instruction."

"Sure."

"Howeverly I do have one less-momentous thing to ask."

"…Sure?"

Lawbert looked back at the humans gathered before him, having settled into his favorite position facing north-by-northwest (the most legal direction) in the containment chamber. He shifted his bulk, getting comfortable against the concrete floor before speaking again.

"Formal requisition request for keytar."

Footnotes

1. Filtered through a mustache that had survived years of testing, only growing increasingly broom-like in response to the horrors of the anomalous world.

2. Lawbert had recently decided that having eyelids was more legally convenient than not, for the purposes of not looking at things he wasn't supposed to.

3. This incident would later result in the publication of the Foundation research paper titled "The Surprising Thaumaturgical Applications of Soy Sauce Packets."