Notes: The more testing we do, the more | begin to wonder how 
more advanced technology would be. If only this damned dead body 
"curse" didn't exist... this stuff would benefit us in so many ways. 
This test shows that guns would become extremely efficient, but 
then again guns are used to kill people so you will run into a dead 
guy at some point. 


Notes (2): | suppose we COULD use this in a combat situation but 
only as a last resort, and even then we'd have to be careful. -Dr 
Clinton 


Date: / / 
Test Subject: One (1) Litre of Candle Wax 


Procedure: Wax was added to SCP-447-2 in a 2:1 ratio of Wax to 
SCP-447-2. A candle wick was dipped into the wax to create a 
candle. 


Results: The candle gave off 50% more light at a distance of 10 
metres, and also gave off a strong smell of mint as it burned. 
However, the candle burnt out in roughly half the time of a candle 
made solely out of wax and was far more difficult to extinguish, 
requiring a CO2 fire extinguisher to put out. 


Notes: While it may seem like a good idea to market it, the mint 


Owned a giant, faceless corporation in the 
seventies. 


Christchurch: What changed? 


Pol-54112: Cancer. It was treatable, of course. 
As | said, | was rich. But you know how these 
things work. You're never really cured of 
cancer. You're just on a clock, waiting down 
the days until it rears its ugly head again. And | 
was already 58. It's become a bit of a cliché, | 
know, but the whole affair made me aware of 
my own mortality. So | decided to do 
something about it. 


Christchurch: About mortality. 


Pol-54112: Why not? You must have seen 
some unusual things working for your 
Foundation. You must know the kinds of shit 
you can find out there if you look hard enough. 


Christchurch: So what did you do? 


Pol-54112: The same thing every rich asshole 
would do in my situation. | visited every hack, 
wack-job and voodoo magic man | could find 
who might have what | was looking for. Hey, it 
was the seventies. None of them did, of 
course. But | did catch wind of something. Do 
you believe in anything, Mr. Foundation? A 
God? 


Christchurch: No. No, not really. 


Pol-54112: Ah, but you've seen things, haven't 
you? | can see it in your eyes. Things that 
claim to be gods, or as close enough to them 
as humans are ever likely to care about. 


Christchurch: Are you saying you found a 


god? 


Pol-54112: Or something that was close 
enough. He was old. Dying, | think, if gods 
even can die. The great Liber, Roman god of 
wine, fertility and freedom. 


Pol-54112 gestures dramatically. 


Pol-54112: | don't know if he actually was 
what he claimed to be, but he certainly 
believed it. He was bitter, too. Angry about 
being forgotten. He ranted on about how his 
fellow gods were all immortalised by the 
calendar or how they had become pop-culture 
darlings. But not poor old Liber. 


Christchurch: You made a deal with a dying 
god. 


Pol-54112: Bingo. Ironically, I'd gone looking 
for something to try and solve the issue of my 
own mortality, only to find a dying god who 
couldn't solve his own. He couldn't make me 
immortal, but he could give me time. Endless 
time. A strange distinction, but there it is. 


Christchurch: This being created the extra 
time? 


Pol-54112: Oh no, no. | don't think so. No, | 
think the repeating time was already there. A 
natural phenomenon maybe. Of course, no 
one remembered it. It could have been 
happening for centuries. Millennia even, for all 
| know. No, he gave people memories. Turned 
me into an anchor of sorts, | guess. Put a little 
bit of whatever was left of him inside of me. As 
long as | exist, he exists, and people will 
remember what happened last Liberary. And 
since I'm now linked to it, | can't not exist. | had 


to give up my original life, obviously. Was all 
but forgotten by the world. But it was worth the 
price. 


Christchurch: And what did this Liber person 
get out of it? 


Pol-54112: To be remembered, of course. To 
live on a little. All any being of great power 
ultimately wants. So | made sure the extra time 
would be named after him. Founded the 
Children. For 47 days out of the year, Liber is 
the biggest game in town. 


Christchurch: And you get to spend your time 
hosting orgies and eating enough food to feed 
a small country. 


Pol-54112 laughs. 


Pol-54112: Understand, from my perspective 
it's only been a few years since this all started. 
Whatever you consider normal time doesn't 
exist for me. But I'll admit, that aspect of it all 
has started to wear a little thin. That's not what 
we're here to talk about, though, is it. 


Christchurch: You mentioned something 
about leverage. | assume you're going to 
attempt to blackmail us now. 


Pol-54112: Please, understand that | don't do 
this maliciously. It's actually out of my control. 
But as | said, I'm tired of having to look over 
my shoulder constantly in case some faceless 
Foundation goon grabs me and locks me ina 
box. So I'm hoping we can come to some sort 
of arrangement. 


Christchurch: I'm listening. 


Pol-54112: Liberary is my entire existence. My 
impact on your world is limited, but it's not non- 
existent. You lose nothing by leaving me be. 
The world already knows about the Foundation 
and all the weird shit you deal with during 
Liberary. None of the "anomalous" stuff in my 
circle is harmful. Most of it is just side-effects 
from having part of Liber inside me, | think. 
The remnants of an old god amusing itself. 


Christchurch: We lose nothing by leaving you 
alone. What do we gain, then? 


Pol-54112: As | said before, I'm something of 
an anchor now. While I'm here, | keep 
whatever this all is- 


Pol-54112 gestures vaguely around the room. 


Pol-54112: -pinned down. Solid. Whole. When 
I'm not here - for example when Foundation 
soldiers burst into one of my parties and shoot 
me dead. Well, things become a little /ess 
solid. 


Christchurch: What are you implying? 


Pol-54112: I'll spell it out for you. Every time 
I've died, something bad has happened. 
Something big. | don't know why, maybe it's 
the result of that last piece of a god living 
inside of me actually dying. But they've started 
to bleed over into your time. The last time | 
died, that storm in Australia leaked over and 
caused all sorts of trouble. How many people 
died? Nine, ten thousand? That was the worst 
so far, but it wasn't the first. 


Christchurch: So you're holding the world 
hostage? 


Pol-54112: Oh don't be so dramatic. Like | 
said, this isn't intentional. | felt terrible when | 
realised the connection. I've taken a lot less 
risks since then, just in case. But like | said, | 
also have little interest being hunted. So here's 
the deal. You leave me be, to go about my 
business at no cost to your self or your 
precious "normality" or whatever you call it. 
And in return, | won't kill myself every time | 
think you're even getting a little close. 


Christchurch: We could just keep you 
sedated. Put you under every time Liberary 
starts again. 


Pol-54112: That would work once. Next 
Liberary I'd wake up somewhere else. 
Certainly not in your little jail cells. And then 
you'd have to track me down all over again, 
and risk my getting killed. Why take the 
chance? 


Following the interview, Pol-54112 was held until the 
conclusion of the SCP-3455 iteration, with their 
agreement. Pol-54112 was not present in his assigned 
cell in the following iteration, and his current 
whereabouts is unknown. The claim that their termination 
has acorrelation with destructive disasters, which mirror 
disasters in baseline time, has been corroborated. 


The current operating policy on Pol-54112 is to monitor, 
but not to approach. 


Footnotes 

1. Archon-class anomalies are anomalies that should not be 
contained due to the damage that would be caused by doing so. 

2. So named for the Roman God Liber. 

3. A toy company that was acquired by Hasbro Inc. in 1995, notable 
for the development of the popular "Super Soaker" brand of water 
gun toys. 

4. Due in large part to notable percentages of armed forces on both 


sides failing to report for duty. 

5. It is theorised that ongoing memories of injuries and deaths 
amongst the armed forces significantly reduced the desire to engage 
in conflict. 

6. A dark region of space in which time either does not exist or does 
not move. 


SCP-3456: The Orcadian Horsemen 


Item #: SCP-3456 
Object Class: Keter 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-3456 is currently 
uncontained; all attempts to contain or neutralize it have failed. 
Research into methods for containment are ongoing. Personnel who 
observe the entity are to be treated with Class G amnestics, and 
must be located with at least one freshwater stream, river, or lake 
within 1 km of the treatment facility. All historical references to 
SCP-3456 are to be removed and/or attributed to myth, shell-shock, 
PTSD, and hysteria. Reports regarding loss of life and damage as a 
result of SCP-3456 incidents should be scrubbed of all references to 
the anomaly, and replaced with narratives involving military conflict, 
natural, or man-made disasters. 


Regions in which SCP-3456 are likely to appear are to be monitored 
regularly. Personnel are to be deployed to aid evacuation efforts in 
the event of an incident. Direct observation of SCP-3456 should be 
avoided. 


Description: SCP-3456 are a group of quadrupeds resembling 
horses and other equines. Individual instances deviate significantly 
from other equines, particularly due to the lack of hair, presence of 
three-toed hooves, thick transluscent skin, and either single or 
multiple human torsos fused to its back in addition to the normal 
equine head attached to the horses body. 


Each torso has a pair of arms and a head attached, where the arm- 
span reaches twice the height of the entity itself,! and end in 5 
sharpened, protruding bone digits in place of human fingers. In most 
instances, SCP-3456 possesses a hole where the human nose is 
normally located, and is capable of emitting high-pitched screams up 
to 110 decibels in intensity. The size of each SCP-3456 instance 
varies, with the largest recorded manifestation reaching 30 m in 


height, and 15 m in length. SCP-3456 instances, thus far, have 
proven to be impervious to conventional weapons. 


Instances materialize near the sites of war, terrorist attacks, and 
natural disasters. Multiple manifestations may occur depending on 
the scale of the event, as indicated by the entity's materialization 
during numerous historical events throughout the 19th, 20th, and 
21st centuries. SCP-3456 instances display high levels of adaptive 
intelligence during incidents, often engineering situations to trap or 
torture their targets.2 Due to this, it is currently theorized that 
SCP-3456 may be sapient. 


Direct observation of SCP-3456 by an individual will result in the 
entity becoming aware of the observer, at which point it will display 
directional awareness of said individuals at all times. SCP-3456 
manifestations are known to engage in predatory and stalking 
behavior, utilizing the environment to conceal and camouflage 
themselves. Survivors of such behavior report that the entity will 
manipulate, and follow its targets, pursuing them well beyond the 
site of initial manifestation (See Incident Log I-3456-032).3 
SCP-3456 will continue such behaviors, deliberately exposing itself 
to as many individuals as possible, until it has captured a large 
number of individuals, at which point it will dematerialize.4 What 
happens to subjects taken by SCP-3456 is currently not known. 
Should SCP-3456 be incapable of collecting a sufficient number of 
subjects, it will continually materialize near individuals who have 
observed it before, until it is able to capture them. 


SCP-3456 is either unwilling to cross, or incapable of crossing, 
bodies of fresh water. This was initially discovered by Foundation 
plants within Basrah, Iraq, during Operation Iraqi Freedom. 
Foundation agents were forced into rapid retreat across the Tigris 
river by three SCP-3456 manifestations, at which time they 
discovered that the instances either could not or would not set foot 
onto the bridge. How and why SCP-3456 is unable to cross such 
geographic boundaries is currently unknown. 


ATTEMPTED ACCESS DETECTED. ENTER CREDENTIALS 


The following section contains journal entries from Dave 
Harkand, an infantryman in the British Expeditionary 


Force during World War I. This journal describes several 
SCP-3456 sightings over the course of The Battle of the 
Somme. 


June 27th, 1916 


Finally arrived at the front! | picked up this little 
journal while | was in Paris, figured | might as 
well keep record of my heroics on the 
battlefield. Quite chuffed to finally be in action, 
though it seems I'm the only one. Most of 
these blokes have been fighting for a couple 
months now, and they look downright dreadful. 
Mud all over the uniform, and their faces are 
so pale, look like they haven't eaten or slept 
for months. Commanding officer is rather shit 
hot® for battle, it's quite admirable. 


July 2nd, 1916 


Woke in the early hours of the morning. 
Ground was shaking, damn near shook me out 
into the muck on the dugout floor. Poor blokes 
in the bunks on the other side looked liked 
they had seen a ghoul. Pair of Northern Irish 
lads from Kitchener's Armies if | remember 
right. Kept muttering about a Nuckatee? Must 
be some Mick® thing. Were both gripping a 
gold crucifix. Was about to lay my head back 
down and get a wink of shuteye when | ended 
up scrambling into the mud. Loudest damn 
thing I'd ever heard. Thought it was the Hun 
Artillery bout to mark us with a whizz-bang, 
only problem was, never did get the bang. This 
morning asked our brass hat about the Artillery 
barrage. Gave me a funny look, and asked 
what the bloody hell | was talking about. 


July 2nd 1916 


We went looking for the dud that must have 


come down last night. Didn't find it, but found 
something even the amen wallah’ probably 
can't explain. Strangest looking crater I've ever 
seen, was shaped like a giant hoof. 


July 3rd, 1916 


Huns made a push today, first time they've 
moved in our region. First time I'd ever seen 
combat. It's not romantic and adventurous. It's 
terrifying, and deadly. My hands can't stop 
shaking, already messed up the chit8 once. 
The Huns had our outfit up against a wall, 
damn near overran us, didn't help that it rained 
the night before making our fox hole filled to 
the brim with muck. One of the Fritz came right 
at me...just...| put one right between his eyes. 
Fell right at the edge of the trench, and had to 
look him in the eyes, poor lad couldn't have 
been more than 17 or 18. 


Martin, one of those Irish lads, is gone. Was 
unlike anything I'd ever seen, one moment 
he's standing shooting at the Huns, all of the 
sudden, the mud starts boiling. Fore anyone 
can react, Mud just flies everywhere, everyone 
else is suddenly knocked down off their feet. | 
look up, the wanker's just gone. Wasn't even 
body parts left. Haven't told anyone...but I'd 
swear that there was bones coming up from 
underneath him right before the mud went 
flying. His mate, Brendan, was digging in the 
mud for hours, looking for the crucifix. 


July 14th & 15th, 1916 


Huns tried to push this morning in the rain. | 
was in the machine gun nest with Brendan, the 
other Irish chap in my unit. They kept coming 
and coming, and getting stuck in the mud, and 
| just kept shooting.