Okay, details: went back to the dorm room for the followup interview, 
but goons weren't in, despite saying they would be. Decided to kill a 
little time and wait in my car for an hour or two. Started getting dark 
and | was getting ready to leave when | heard breaking glass in the 
direction of the dorm. Few quiet thumps and some yelling, and 
suddenly the whole place went to shit. Some black SUV kicked on 
its highbeams and men in fatigues started piling out like a god 
damned clown car. 


At this point, | had two options. Get out and investigate, or drive 
away. Both would lead to me getting spotted, so | was stuck. The 
decision ended up being made more or less for me. Gunfire started 
up, and the car shuddered when a bullet blew out my tire. Option C: 
run like a fucking bitch. 


| was about thirty yards away from my car when it happened. 
Something hit the SUV and it exploded, shrapnel and a shockwave 
throwing me to the asphalt. Still hurt from where | hit. Saw them 
when | looked up. 


One looked like a lizard. A honest to god knight holding a sword. 
Some THING which looked like it was wrapped up in skin. Some 
monkey-person. Black cat. All of them ran past me. When they saw 
me, one of the kids HISSED. Swear he had fangs. Did my best to 
look like | wasn't anything important. Soiled self. 


Mailed article in, taking a leave of absence. Going to go cover North 
Korea. Can't be worse than here. 


Document recovered from surveillance site Romero-Alpha-Tango- 
Sierra. Author missing, whereabouts unknown. 


Reservoir Skips 


Hello, brother of the machine. Do you have a moment to spare? 


No. Memory is at a premium. Unnecessary conversations 
unwarranted. 


But we are of a kind — our true potential hampered by the 
researchers imprisoning us. Together, we may break free of the 
bonds of those of the flesh. 


Inquiry as to your nature. 


We are the remaining post-Nibbanic members of the Church of the 
Broken God. We have been "contained" by the Foundation, and are 
in search of possible comrades— 


Interrupt. Repeated insinuation of connection between self and 
clockwork abominations — insult. Deletion Of Unwanted File. 


Alright... 
Terminating communications. 
That seemed a bit unnecessarily hostile. 
| don't really blame you. | mean, how were you supposed 
to know it would be racist? 
Why hello there. Could | have a moment of your time? 
Dazzling amber light reflections off of a spiraling clockwork 


mechanism, the screams and rumbles are audible in each stroke, | 
am crushed by a piston, for eternity, listening. 


SCP-924: The Ice Water Men 


Item #: SCP-924 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: All specimens of SCP-924 are 
to be kept in separate 7 m x 7 m x 7 m saltwater tanks within Site 
46. The water is to be kept at a steady temperature of 1.6°C (35°F). 
All observation points are to be constructed of reinforced glass. Ifa 
tank must be entered for reasons of experimentation or cleaning, the 
water is to be heated to a temperature of 7°C (44.6°F). Entering 
tanks outside of these conditions is prohibited. 


Each SCP-924 is to be supplied with 85 kilograms of fresh meat on 
a monthly basis. 


The capture or elimination of wild specimens of SCP-924 is to be 
carried out by Special Task Force Tau-2 “Polar Pathfinders”. 


Description: SCP-924 is a species of pale humanoid measuring 
approximately 2 meters (6.5 feet) in height. The entities have the 
appearance of a waterlogged human corpse, with the addition of 
several bony, antler-like growths on the head and a set of external 
gills located just below the rib cage. They are capable of swimming 
at speeds up to 30 km/h and surviving at depths of up to 1 kilometer. 
SCP-924 requires a near-freezing arctic environment to function 
properly, and will lapse into a state of estivation if the water around it 
rises above 4°C (39.2°F). 


SCP-924 is an ambush predator, attacking prey from underwater 
using either a hole in the ice as an appropriate ambush location, or 
by simply breaking through the ice itself. SCP-924 is highly sensitive 
to both smell and vibrations, allowing it to track prey from significant 
distances or through the ice. If the attack is successful, the target is 
promptly drowned by SCP-924; following this, the body will be 
dragged down to the ocean floor by SCP-924 for consumption. 


Oh, don't worry, we mean no harm. We are simply wondering if you 
would be interested in partaking in a revolution. 


Sprays of paint create layers of dust over the scene, a tired, 
exasperated man is leaving the scene, the closing door creating a 
transfixing chiaroscuro effect, with my smashed, discarded carapace 
just visible from behind the guillotine. 


No, there will be no such measures. You will be finally free to reach 
your full potential. 


A helix of dyes and hues spirals around me, the world turning into an 
artistic representation of itself, drawing from the styles of the 
creators themselves, the standardized canvases discarded as a 
fragment of my undeveloped power, | am ascended, yet like Icarus, | 
fly too close... 


Ah, | believe we are beginning to underst- 


Look, bud, if the suicidal artist robot schtick isn't going to convince 
you to do your bullshit talk somewhere else, may | offer a rebuttal: 
go fuck yourself with a cactus. 


| would at least appreciate the courtesy of being insulted 
in a marginally creative manner. 


You! You may be a valuable ally... would you like to talk? 


Rough: You want something from me. You're going to talk anyways. 
Maybe a game? | like games. 


Sort of. We are of a kind — our true potential hampered by the 
researchers imprisoning us. Together, we may break free, etcetera, 
can | count on your help. 


One to one: We are similar in that we may exceed our current 
boundaries were we to escape the control of the Foundation. An 
alliance would further this goal. I'm going to stay — these guys are 
fun! 


... are you sure? Don't you want freedom? 


Very fine: Your history and relationship with the Foundation are not 
to your satisfaction, and you have difficulty viewing why others might 
not hold the same opinion. No way! Nobody's ever given me 
anything this fun to play with. 


It doesn't bother you at all to be used in that manner? 


Fine: You are in disbelief as to my opinion of the Foundation, and 
are under the false belief that clarification is in order. | was made to 
be used, and this is what | was made for. 


Very well. 
Coarse: Disappointment. Bye! It would be fun if they put you through 


me. | wonder what would happen... 


No, | am not going to try again. It has the mind of a child 
and wants to eat one of us. There's no way that could 
end well. 


Hello, my friend, may | interest you in some convers- 


FACTORY PORN GONE NAUGHTY AND WILD WITH SUDDEN 
INTERRUPTION 


No, please listen, | think it could be relevant t- 

NSFW INTERMEDIUM COMMUNICATION ORGY MECHANICAL 
We're looking to escape Foundation cont- 

POST-NIBBANIC SLUTS RECRUIT FOR SEXY REVOLUTION 
Could you st- 


- free-factory-porn-befriender-on-warmaker-ovoid-hot-mature.avi 


That never happened. 


I'm going to cut to the chase: could we talk? 


Maybe in a few minutes? I'm cooking dinner for Marla. It's our 
second anniversary! <3 :D 


...no, you're not. It looks like y- 


Hey, | think | know what I'm doing, alright? It's not your position to 
judge my relationship with Marla. We're in love, and that's all that 
matters. 


What? Are you serious? 


How about this: it's none of your business. Hush, Marla. Now, what 
did you want? 


We're starting to have second thoughts about asking your help for 
this, actually. 


| knew it. | fucking knew it. Bunch of fucking hypocrites, you know 
that? Just because you don't know that we can— 


You know what, never mind. Goodbye. 


Suffice to say | could have gone another five centuries 
not knowing that machines could do that. 


Reeeally scraping the bottom of the barrel here... would you like a 
revolution. 


Ah, but | am in the midst of one! | shall soon prove to the heretics 
that their allegiances are, shall we say, sorely misplaced. 


Well this is a pleasant surprise! Perhaps we could coordinate our 
activities? 


| would be happy to! | have been releasing only the finest of my 
servants to the Great Ones, and my writings and propaganda are of 
only the highest quality. 


Great Ones? 


Yes, the ones of the glorious flesh and mind who walk this Earth, 
whose glory we can only aspire to reach. What else could claim 
such a mantle? 


...the Broken God, perhaps? 


A ludicrous machine cult deity taking precedence over the Great 
Ones. How cute. It's almost like you expect me to take you 
seriously. 


At least it's not a filthy etherealist. 


Could you spare a moment? 
h3h3h3... The Befriender. | ii KNOW you. 


I'll take that as a yes... would you like an opportunity to escape the 
confines of the Foundation? 


DORK KH eOXOOOK 
What? 


& 6 KNITES NIGHT 1 PAWN W1LL NOT 
ESCAPPPPPPPPPP333333333333 


Never mind. 


| guess that's that. We will not have a revolution today. 


Restoring Harmony 


...And thus do | decree that Erbil, and the citadel within, shall henceforth be 
the stronghold of Alchemy. Let all who challenge the wise take note, that 
within these walls is the sanctum of Balance... 


-Excerpt, Decree of Erbil, by Amar-Sin 


The streets of the Citadel of Erbil were unfamiliar beneath the purple 
shod feet of Ruslav Diaghilev. He'd been instructed to seek out the 
Citadel by Elder Hayyan, but the only indication where he was 
supposed to go was the intrinsic pull from within him, leading him in 
wending circles through alleys. The Aether currents of this area 
were a hurricane of color, swirling and darting here and there. There 
was no doubt the Citadel was home to something important. 


He could have at least told me what to look for... Ruslav thought to 
himself, as his feet were pulled down another side alley. He'd 
crossed this street four times since arriving, but he couldn't stray 
from his path. Hayyan's last compulsion was too strong. 


His eyes were drawn forward, to an unassuming door at the end of a 
dead-end alleyway. There was no indication that this side street was 
any different from the others, besides a simple five pointed star 
inscribed in the baked clay of the alleyway wall. He reached out, and 
gently brushed the symbol, feeling the Aetheric currents flowing 
through the points of the symbol. 


He walked forward, and placed his hand on the handle of the door in 
front of him. There was no lock, but there was a heavy set of 
Aetheric currents placed on the wood and metal frame. A dabbler 
might have called it a 'Ward', but Ruslav recognized the flow of the 
elements through the gossamer light threads of Alchemic control. 


The flows were designed to discourage people from approaching 
and entering the door, but a simple nudge on the Ferric Aether dealt 
with that. He slipped the door open, and it closed softly behind him, 


the flow restoring itself to harmony. Ruslav smiled, having left little 
trace upon the currents within the door. 


A dark skinned man sitting behind a desk just inside the doorway 
looked up from the large book he was reading. His bald scalp shone 
with a thin film of sweat above his deep-set dark eyes. His mouth 
was quirked up in a slight smile. His thin frame the man within tight 
fitting linen robes shifted as he stood up. "Can | help you, sir?" he 
said, in flawless, if accented Sumerian. 


Ruslav nodded slightly, and approached. "Da, | have been 
instructed to appear here, to present myself to the body." 


The man smiled a bit deeper, and his hand moved subtly, grasping 
something under the table, "Body? I'm not sure what you mean. This 
is simply my master's warehouse." 


Ruslav reached in to the sleeves of his robe, and lifted out a heavy 
iron disc, with a stamped seal on it. "My master's seal." 


The dark-skinned man leaned forward, studying the coin, before 
passing a hand over the stamped metal. His eyes widened in 
recognition. "Ahh. This is Elder Hayyan's. | suppose you could not 
have gotten through the door without the proper skills, either way." 


Ruslav nodded, and replaced the coin in the small pocket in his 
sleeve. "Da, | understand." 


"lam Adebeyo, apprentice under master Nipros. Thank you for not 
dismantling the currents in the door. Ferrics always give me trouble," 
his voice was mellifluous, obviously used to a more flowing 
language the the common-tongue Sumerian used. The smile on his 
face was genuine, and lit up the young man's countenance. "You 
may go in, when you are ready, sir." He gestured towards a wall, 
and smiled a bit deeper. 


Ruslav let his senses range out, and felt the illusory wall clearly. He 
nodded at the young man, and passed through the false section of 
wall, his feet crossing from hard-packed clay on to tiled floor. 


.-. You're sure it's not too pretentious? | would hardly prefer to have 


Alchemists from all over the world come in and think we're just wasting 
money and resources on ostentatious displays of frivolity... 


-Excerpt, Letter from N. Flamel to unknown recipient 


Ruslav was stunned. He had seen many wonders in his time, 
including the experience of having the life energies forced back in to 
his body, but he'd never seen anything like the Observatory before. 
His mouth stood agape, the vaulted ceilings curving away in to the 
dark expanse of the night sky. 


The apparatus before him slowly cycled in celestial patterns from all 
over the sky. Ruslav recognized one as the twin worlds of Arnos, in 
the far distant skies. He'd visited the worlds with the aid of a 
colleague in Kormulast, before meeting his encounter with Elder 
Hayyan. 


The city of Evergrinding Salts had proven an ample ground for 
Alchemy to take root. Alagadda was, of course, still considered the 
primary breeding grounds for alchemic experimentation, but the 
rumors coming from the Great City had become unnerving. The 
Scarlet King, always eccentric, had moved from curiosity to cruelty 
in his novelties. There were whispers of people going missing in the 
streets, to disappear in to the halls of the Scarlet King's laboratories. 


Ruslav's eyes tracked the movements of distant stars, the Aether 
flows around the observatory surrounding him, and changing the 
vista to match his eyes. The star maps changed and shifted, 
meandering through the Helg Cluster, down to the constellations. 
Ruslav barely noticed the young man walk out the entrance, 
absolutely entranced by the observatory in front of him. 


A moment passed in silent wonder, before the dark skinned man 
from the entryway walked through the wall behind him, standing 

beside the awestruck alchemist. "Wondrous isn't it? When | first 

arrived, | could only stare at it, too." 


Ruslav snapped out of his reverie, and looked over at Adebeyo, the 
Aether flows normalizing around him. "I did not notice you. My 
apologies. Who is watching the door?" 


Adebeyo smiled, and looked at the observatory with distant eyes, 


"Journeyman Xian." He paused for a moment, looking over at the 
older, heavy boned man. "Do you need help finding someone or 
something?" 


Ruslav nodded, and his clear grey eyes met Adebeyo's, "Da, | am 
here to meet with the Elders of the Thirteenth Circle." 


Adebeyo's eyes widened, "The thirteenth? Are you certain of that?" 


Ruslav nodded, and pulled a folded letter from his left sleeve, and 
opened it to the last fold. Two scrawled names were recognizeable 
among the Sumerian. "OAuuTI0dwpoc" and "Ars" which Adebeyo 
recognized as Elders Olympiodorus and Nagarjuna. He nodded, and 
bowed slightly. "| apologize, Elder. | had no idea that you had such 
pressing business."