Designation: SCP-6835

Threat Level: Theta

Special Containment Procedures: Tactical Operations Unit Earnshaw-4 ('Foo Fighters') has been tasked with investigating all reported sightings of SCP-6835, and expunging any recollection of the event from all witnesses. By order of the D9 Council, there are to be no further attempts to capture, or otherwise impede SCP-6835.

Earliest known luminotype depicting SCP-6835, captured during the Year of the Creeping Frost.

Report: SCP-6835 is the Black Wyvern1, a Ferdinand-class air frigate which vanished along with its crew during the closing stages of the War of Alarian Aggression. Periodically, SCP-6835 will appear above populated areas under Rupertian jurisdiction (hereafter referred to as a Manifestation Event) at an altitude of between 25000 and 30000 hands. SCP-6835 Manifestation Events are typically concurrent with the onset of sudden and intense thunderstorms; whether SCP-6835 itself is responsible for these meteorological phenomena remains uncertain.

Within minutes of appearance, SCP-6835 will begin rapidly descending at speeds of up to 170 kh per hour, before vanishing within a distance of 150 hands above ground. The earliest known SCP-6835 sighting is attributed to the HMA Queen Amelia, whose crew reported witnessing a WAA-era craft in the vicinity of Mount Kingspear. The Amelia's captain, one Julius Abadie, apparently possessing some degree of familiarity SCP-6835, refused direct orders to track the vessel's movements, instead joining his servicemen in utterance of a short prayer. Foundation agents embedded in the Rupertian Air Force investigated the sighting, and subsequently expunged all witness' memory of the incident.

To date, the Foundation has made three attempts to intercept SCP-6835. In all cases, the pursuing aircraft were downed after experiencing apparent catastrophic engine failure. While the wreckage of these vessels have since been retrieved, in all cases no human remains could be identified.

Additional: The following account of SCP-6835 was published in the Fort Charles Times by Lord Theobald T. Whitestone, 7th Earl of Eastchapel, documented for future research by the Division of Folkloric Studies:

ATTENTION ALL AVIATORS

BEWARE THE BLACK WYVERN!

As any groundgawker2 worth his rations will know, the dutiful airmen who service this great nation are a valiant, if superstitious folk, with their own curious assortment of unique customs and beliefs. As longtime readers can attest, I have never shied from relegating some of the more extravagant of these sky-tales, ranging from the somber sully-gullies3 to the boundless delights of Cloud Nine4. Tempting as it may seem to dismiss such outlandish tellings as mere guff and claptrap, on my reputation as a scholar and a gentleman, the following account of devilry and guile is as veracious and indisputable as the skies above.

In the waning days of the War of Alarian Aggression, the Black Wyvern was renowned as one of the finest frigates of her class. Under the watchful command of a shrewd and daring sundog5 by the name of Phileas Faustus (pictured), the Wyvern emerged nigh-unscathed from countless skirmishes across the Northern Front. This run of fair fortune was not to last however: one winter, whilst traversing the thick and brooding mists over West Arthuria, the Wyvern was beset by a roving band of mercenaries. While no fatalities occurred, the frigate's engines took heavy damage, and with her hydrium reserves low, the chances of a safe return to Rupertian airspace were slim to none. Shortly after midnight, as it appeared their situation could grow no bleaker, the Wyvern's crew were visited by none other than the Devil himself, come shambling forth from the howling abyss in search of fresh subjects.

Last known luminotype of Captain Phileas Faustus, taken shortly before his disappearance.

With breathless voice, the Prince of Dust assured Captain Faustus that he could see to the Wyvern's safe voyage home - a service he was more than happy to provide, in exchange for the immortal essence of the first crewmember to set foot on land. To his company's shock, the quick-witted captain hastily accepted this precarious bargain, though no sooner than words passed his lips the Devil had vanished, and the Wyvern began moving of her own accord, sailing the High Heavens at speed unsurpassed by craft or comet. Within the hour the dirigible's crew were greeted with the clear and starry skies of the Motherland, their spellbound vessel only coming to an abrupt halt once the Son of Shadows returned, eagerly awaiting his prize.

Refusing to condemn any of his men to the pustulant pits of the Weeping Wastes, Captain Faustus instead took the Devil by surprise, seizing the ship's cat by the tail and sending it plummeting to the ground below. As the felled feline was by technicality a full member of the Wyvern's crew, Faustus boasted, the Devil no longer held claim to the soul of any of her human occupants. However dear reader, while the Devil may on occasion be outwitted by mortal men, as any priest or prophet will assure you, he rarely takes such instances in his stride. Thus it was that the Devil placed a curse upon the Wyvern, forcing the vessel and her crew to remain adrift in the sea above seas until the end of time. In the years that have elapsed since, airmen from all corners of the Empire have reported sighting the Dutchman-o'-the-Air during their travels - always descending, but incapable of landing.

It is said that when the dread zeppelin draws near, three distinct omens will manifest on passing vessels. First, the ship's cat will become irate - tail stiffening, eyes widening and hair standing on end, attacking its crewmates indiscriminately, as if avenging the sacrifice of its fallen brother. Next, the onboard wireless will begin to falter, becoming hot to the touch and producing indecipherable static, accompanied by faint whisperings and the distant echoes of inhuman moans. Finally, the craft's resident Wolkenholt6, knowing what fate his ship awaits, will at last put out his pipe and remove his cap of invisibility, before solemnly singing his final sky-shanty.

Pity not the Wyvern's crew, dear reader - rest assured, knowing that what dwells within her duralumin belly no longer holds any closer resemblance to godsfearing Rupertians than a common sea slug. Save all sympathies instead for those unfortunate enough to encounter the Horror of the Heights, and therefore be drafted into the company of the damned.

You have been warned.

Footnotes

1. Named for the heraldic beast of ancient lore: purportedly, the wyvern learned the true name of the god Juro, and to ensure its secrecy was cursed so that its every breath turned to flame in its mouth.

2. Aerial slang term; used to refer to individuals who are inexperienced with aeronautics and navigation.

3. A species of legendary seabird. Supposedly, male sully-gullies are deserted by their partners after mating, and become so distraught as to fly directly into aircraft propellers, to disastrous consequence. These creatures are believed to have originated as a practical joke, whereby credulous new recruits are tasked with keeping watch for sully-gullies, their white beaks and azure plumage making them difficult to spot in clear skies.

4. In aeronautical folklore, Cloud Nine is an idyllic afterlife awaiting all honorable airmen, which is inhabited by a race of beautiful bird-maidens. Here it is said that wind and rain are absent, and the Moon is always full and bright, with the night skies awash with dazzling auroric displays.

5. Aerial slang term; used to denote a seasoned aviator.

6. Literally translating as 'cloud-goblin', the Wolkenholt is a diligent and good-natured sprite said to reside on aircraft. Usually depicted as a short bearded figure, smoking tobacco from an enchanted silver pipe, which also functions as a flute.

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