Accompanying the electric energy of the Fulminous Aether was an 
empty feeling. The feeling of chaining and binding, of energies 
reflected and amplified. Ruslav knew that feeling well. The laughter 
echoed in the paths of his memory, as his eyebrows narrowed, his 
teeth setting in a snarl. 


The Scarlet King was bucking his seal, and attempting to push back 
against Ruslav, and Adebayo. 


Ruslav's hands blurred, as he drew the simple iron circle from the 
space under his lab desk, and tossed it into the air. His hands 
spread, as he began to chant in the First Language, one step 
removed from the True Language. 


The iron circle stayed suspended in the air for a moment before 
bouncing, and landing on its side, slowly spinning around, on its 
side. 


Adebayo's head burst into sweat, as the Aether's compressed. 
"They are pushing back. | do not know how long—" his words were 
strained now, the Second Language's powers being stretched to 
their limits. 


Ruslav's voice rang out like thunder, and he pulled his hands to his 
sides, his fists clenched. "YOU WILL NOT DISRUPT OUR WORK, 
TODAY. | PUSH YOU BACK TO WHENCE YOU ARE. BEGONE 
SCARLET KING!" With a sudden crack of thunder the building 
energies flowed into the iron circle, grounding harmlessly into the 
hand-forged iron. The laughter turned to a snarling sound of pain, as 
the chains around the entity went taut again, pulling it tight. All went 
quiet, except for Elder Adebayo's chanting. 


Several minutes passed, as Ruslav's breath came back to him. The 
effort required to banish the Fulminous Aether gathered by the 
Scarlet King to push against their ritual had been staggering, but 
he'd forced it into the circle at last, the energies contained within the 
ring of purified metal. Shaped by hand, with the right rituals, nothing 
could break it in the Aether. Only a mortal hand could undo the 
energies stored there now, and even then, they would need to be 
significantly gifted in the Art. 


Ruslav struggled over to the lab desk, and put his hands to work on 
the Aequeous harness for the ritual. The waters and philters 
bubbled, as he spoke quietly in the Second Language, his words 
blending with Adebayo's, and forming a harmonious chorus. 


The energies of the Aether poured into the small vial of purified 
water, creating truly elemental water. He held it gingerly between 
two fingers, and brought it to Adebayo's station. "Elemental Water. 
This will reinforce the seal perfectly. Did you get yours?" 


He held up a small pinwheel, brightly colored like a child's toy. The 
ultra-fine inscriptions on the blades were near invisible to the naked 
eye. It spun slowly, with small air currents flowing around it. "Of 
course, Elder. | will perform the ritual tonight. Our colleagues in 
Vienna, and Casa Verde should have the Fire, and Earth required." 


A quiet knock on the door drew both of their attention, to the small 
crowd of onlookers. Several of them had hands over their mouths, 
trying not to laugh. 


Ruslav's heart dropped. They couldn't feel a single thing of what just 
happened. To them, it was two old men screaming at nothing, and 
pantomiming. 


"What?" He growled, his hands shaking with exhaustion, and his 
mind filled with annoyance. 


"Your uh...new hire is here. Mike sent me to get you, Mister 
Diaghilev." Ruslav narrowed his eyes. It was the young man from 
lunch. Daniel. He sighed heavily. 


"Of course. Thank you." He shuffled off silently, his shoes 
completely silent. 


The last thing he heard was Daniel's voice under his breath, "What's 
up with the purple shoes?" 


...Why do we keep these people around? | know we're all about the 
anomalous, but there's no way these guys are for real. They're just wasting 
foundation resources. The amount of money they spend on raw copper is 
absurd... 


-Excerpt, Email from Site Director [REDACTED] 


The rumors were true then. Ruslav turned, and headed towards the 
front gate, nodding at the various doctors, security staff, and 
administrative staff he passed. Most of them didn't give him odd 
looks anymore. 


A few flights of stairs, which were getting harder, and muttered 
thanks to the Aethers at the correct times, brought him to the front 
desk, where a nervous looking young man stood in the lobby of the 
Site, along with Mike. Mike was giving him an odd look, with a hand 
on his hip, near to his baton. The reception area looked fairly plain. 


There was a desk, behind with Mike sat, and a row of chairs along 
two walls which visitors were seated in. The drab taupe walls stood 
out slightly from the off-brown carpet across the floor. Two men 
looked at Mike and the young man with careful attention, interested 
in what was taking place before them. The magazines they'd been 
reading were tossed back on the table between the two sets of 
chairs. 


The waiting room always reminded Ruslav of a doctor's office 
waiting area. 


"I'm telling you, son, | can't let you bring Unapproved weapons into 
the site." His eyes were locked on the glass and silver Crozier in his 
hand, the twin snakes of asclepias. Ruslav smiled, as his eyes 
hesitated for a moment over the young man's robe, a royal blue. 
Unpretentious, functional, and yet tastefully traditional. Perhaps 
there was hope yet. 


He held a hand up to Mike, "It's not a weapon, Mike. It's a crozier. 
Alchemist's tools. He's alright." 


Mike looked over at Ruslav, and nodded after a moment. He sat 
back down at the office chair in front of the monitors. The young 
man couldn't see, but the two "waiting" patrons relaxed as well. MTF 
members took threats and potential threats seriously. 


"lam Ruslav Diaghilev, Alchemist of the—" Ruslav started, his voice 
tired, and heavy, expecting very little of the young man in front of 


him. 


"Seventh circle. Yes, sir. | was recommended to study under you by 
Allen Barned, of the fifth circle. He said you were the best, and one 
of the last practical appliers of the Art." The clear Barcelona accent 
on his English lisped a few of his ess's, but he was reasonably 
understandable. 


Ruslav narrowed his eyes, and switched to a form of proto-Etruscan, 
the Eighth Language. Closer to the True Language, but still distant 
enough for conversation. "And how trained are you, young man? Do 
you know the vagueries of the Art? Have you been initiated?" 


The young man hesitated, and his head drooped slightly. He 
attempted to speak as well. "| am to be not practiced in the Art as 
one such are you to be. My—" he attempted to pronounce the name 
of the language, poorly, "Is not very good. | am sorry." 


Ruslav smiled, and nodded, switching back to English. "You are 
more than a dabbler, young man. What is your name?" 


"Arturo Genuomo, sir." He said, with a deep bow, which shook the 
backpack slightly on his frame. Ruslav's face split into one of the 
first genuine smiles of the day as he took notice of the equipment on 
his pack which marked him as a student of the Aequeous Aether. 


"Welcome to the Site, Arturo, please walk with me." He turned, and 
silently walked off, Arturo's odd purple shoes an exact match of his 
own. 


..-As I've told you, they're not frauds. I've witnessed what they can do 
firsthand, and the O5 Council says they're necessary. You've seen the 
budget allotments for the alchemy division, and it's not like we haven't 
encountered Alchemical SCP objects. Just give them a chance, Jim... 
-Excerpt, Email from Dr. Collins, in response to Site Director [REDACTED] 


Finding Balance | Channeling Flows» 


Fire and Brimstone 


The Lock was opened and with it the World Enders awoke, each 
bringing their own Armageddon with them. Some desired to cleanse 
the world in fire, a few with ice, others in darkness, but all endings 
would result in the enslavement or destruction of humanity as they 
know it. They all arose bringing death and destruction with them. 
These divine entities arose when called by the lock, but their 
demons continued to slumber. 


As Patrick scrambled over the fence and started his walk towards 
the town in the distance, he could hear his friends goading him on 
from the fence. He was a timid and quiet child, and as he strolled 
down the solitary road he just couldn't understand why he accepted 
the dare. 


He followed along on adventures and got into mischief with the rest 
of his friends, but he was never the leader; or even the one to act 
out on his own. They were just all supposed to be staying over at 
Kyle's house, then Brenden had to make a call out Patrick on never 
doing anything brave. Daring him to do this as a way to prove his 
bravery was stupid, but accepting it was even more stupid. 


Walking along the road, he looked over to the fields on both sides of 
the road. Even from where he was, he could see that holes 
perforated the grass. Each one spewed noxious clouds of gas, while 
colorless, when combined with the heat made the surrounding air 
shimmer. 


The natural state of reality is chaos and disorder. Entropy is the 
proof of that. Every action puts the universe a step closer to 
eventual death. No matter how much mortals try to reverse it, chaos 
will always end up winning. All they can try to do is make order 
within it. Its almost poetic. 


After a few minutes of walking, Patrick almost reaches the edge of 
town. The road he's walking down acts as a sort of main street with 
the buildings standing on either side. The road runs between the 
buildings and up to the top of a hill centered in the middle of the 
town. 


Looking around, Patrick sees that the buildings are in much worse 
shape than what was initially observed. Each structure is crumbling 
slowly, with some having completely collapsed. The temperature is 
slowly rising too, causing a layer of sweat to soak through Patrick's 
clothes. 


Feeling light-headed all of a sudden, he assumes from the gas, he 
takes a towel that was carrying with him and wets it with the water 
bottle he had in one of his cargo pants' pockets. He places it over 
his mouth and nose and then ties it around the back of his head. 
The cool cloth gives him a moments respite from his dizziness and 
he continues to soldier onward further into town. 


Beings of the occult do not exist inside reality however; but instead 
they are a part of it. They are woven directly into the fabric of the 
nature itself. Because of this, they aren't ruled by chaos and order 
but instead by balance. Good and evil, Yin and Yang, light and 
darkness; for every one, there must be its opposite. 


After he accepted the dare, Patrick asked what was so dangerous 
about the town? All he was told is that there was a bunch of noxious 
gas being spewed that smelled pretty bad. Chuck decided that 
would be a good time to make a fart joke. Everyone burst out 
laughing leaving the question hanging in the air unanswered. 


He regrets not having that answered now. Passing the police 
station, Patrick starts to notice how much more his head is 
pounding. Approaching the hill in the center of town, he can feel his 
reactions slowing down. He starts to crest the hill anyway hoping 
that being up high would help him escape the fumes. 


This is why heroes and Gods of myth and stories must have an 


with shattered areas on the torso, head, and limbs (see Addendum 
847-B for details). 


SCP-847 is animate and moves with erratic, stiff motions while 
shuddering to maintain balance. It demonstrates different behaviors 
depending on the genotypical sex and identified gender of nearby 
humans. These behavioral patterns are grouped as Pattern Z, 
Pattern Y, and Pattern X. 


Pattern Z behaviors occur when there is no human within 50 meters. 
SCP-847 remains inanimate and silent 99.5% of the time under 
these conditions. When animate, SCP-847 will dress in any 
available clothes, stand in front of any available full-length mirror, 
and return to an inanimate state, adopting a pose that showcases 
the outfit worn. It favors clothing which is designed for young 
women, and which leaves ample skin exposure. On rare occasions, 
SCP-847 will scratch short messages on nearby surfaces with a 
finger (or, depending on the state of repair, with an available 
appendage). Messages written since entering Foundation custody 
are found in Addendum 847-C. 


Pattern Y behaviors are adopted when there are male subjects but 
no female subjects within 50 meters, independent of intervening 
obstacles. Initial stage behaviors involve emitting vocalizations 
resembling high-pitched whimpering gasps? and adopting more 
provocative poses. Occasional shudders can be observed during 
this time. After 3-5 minutes of the initial stage, SCP-847's behavior 
enters a secondary stage, during which it becomes fully animate, 
approaching any male subject, adopting a hunched pose and 
appearing to look up into the subject's eyes. Vocalizations during 
this period become more frequent and longer in duration. Subjects 
are able to handle and freely alter or pose SCP-847 during this time. 
When posed, it holds the new pose as balance allows. The final 
stage of Pattern Y behaviors occurs approximately 5 minutes after 
all subjects have left the 50-m perimeter of SCP-847. It will then 
shatter select portions of its body and/or extract internal structures. 
Once shattering or extraction is complete, it emits sobbing 
vocalizations and returns to Pattern Z behaviors. 


Pattern X behaviors occur when any female subject approaches 
within 50 meters, independent of intervening obstacles, whether 


Antithesis. The good Hero has to have a Serpent to slay, armies 
must have corrupt emperors to overthrow, and even Gods must 
have their Demons to conquer. But what happens when a being who 
was meant to provide their salvation, turns instead to damnation? 


Chuck watches Patrick start to march up the tall hill. He is quite mad 
at Brenden for making Patrick go through with the dare. Why would 
he make Patrick do this? Patrick wasn't a bad kid, just quiet. 
Brenden always made him the butt of his jokes and even though all 
of us felt bad, we laughed anyway. Its okay though because when 
he gets back from this, no one will treat him like that ever again. 
Especially not Brenden. 


Chuck grabs on to the fence harder, and along with the rest of the 
guys there, continues to yell encouragement towards Patrick. 
Amazed that he's actually doing it, all the guys are lined up along 
the fence keeping a close eye on him. 


As the group is yelling their support however, the ground begins to 
shake. Chuck can see from his standpoint that the holes in the field 
have began to open up even more, and suddenly a large fissure 
splits the field into two. The ground continues to shake more and 
more, and with each jolt the fissure grows. Most of the guys turn to 
hop on their bikes and peddle away as fast as they can. A few of the 
more scared ones even leave their bikes. The only people left there 
now are Chuck, who is frozen staring open-mouthed at the scene 
unfolding in front of him, and Brenden, who had fallen underneath 
his bike and had his pant leg caught in the gears. 


Chuck can't understand why Patrick doesn't notice this shaking 
though. Wide-eyed he watches the breach quickly reach and engulf 
the buildings at the very edge of the town. Brenden begs Chuck for 
help getting him untangled so he can get away. Chuck ignores him 
as best he can, even as Brenden starts to cry. Instead he takes a 
deep breath and as loud as he can he yells a single word. 


Run. 


| was made to represent the punishment of what would happen