, who had heard reports of a murderer with abnormal strength on 
the run, captured the man and, when it became clear that no 
alternative solution presented itself, was required to terminate the 
subject. 
Note: Mr. wrote in his notes about a fourth figure on the 
fragment he discovered; this figure was apparently not a muse, but 
the depiction of a god outside the accepted Greco-Roman pantheon. 


The priestess, in a rare moment of humanity, asked of the woman 
what had become of her twin. The woman responded with a 
confused stare, before removing her cloak, revealing the extra set of 
arms was not where her strangeness ended, as another set of eyes 
rested above her ears, and her skull arced back in such a way that 
there would have been two minds crammed into it. Her back was 
hunched, slightly, but she smiled, and explained that they were both 
here. There was nothing to worry about. 


And the high priestess finally relented, and simply howled her 
frustrations. The woman left before the priestess could collect 
herself enough to reach a decision, and the mechanical woman, the 
leader of her people...retired to her private labs and collapsed. Her 
heart, in all it’s whirring, ticking glory...could not take any more of 
this. 


And unknown to her and the city, five (or perhaps four, depending 
upon your beliefs) met in an abandoned home on the edge of the 
city, drawn together perhaps by fate, or luck, or some greater 
planning. 


“They released the anti-virus into the soil and water long before we 
ever saw the effects. By now, every inch of the Gods have to be 
affected.” Said the tall man, shining his weapon. “No more 
converting anything for either of them.” 


“All studies at the polar stations show that the infection rate of both 
entities have been completely neutralized to 0%.” The mechanical, 
dark-haired woman nodded, the glowing screens that emanated 
from her own body flickering the words as she spoke. 
“Unfortunately, the longer they survive, the greater the chance of 
either entity overcoming the affects of your Foundation’s antivirus.” 


“S-so weh hab to keel dem, righ?” The deaf man inquired, shaking 
and shrugging, the scarred skin on his back stretching as he sat. 


“Easier said than done. My people- the people below- worship the 
Flesh God, of course they do, just as we worshiped the Gear God, 
but...even they know that killing the Gear God will bring it crashing 
down upon them.” The two-in-one chuckled, pacing back and forth, 
all four hands wringing. “...but...both Gods...to be buried together.” 


“They won’t do it.” The first man grunted, standing from his seat and 
brushing the golden hair from his eyes, a determined glint to his 
smirk. “These things ain’t real Gods. They’re just beings, and they’re 
afraid of dying same as you and me. So we’re gonna have to nudge 
them one way or another. Everything above the God and World’s 
been evacuated, so nobody needs to worry up above.” 


“| propose we attack both at once. There is a high probability that 
they will attack each other simultaneously.” The glowing screens of 
light displayed the possibility in a simplified animation. “I have 
already informed the polar stations of this idea, and they predict 
similarly.” 


“Wuh we waitin’ foh?” 


“...Good question.” The two-in-one chuckled, then laughed, and 
then cackled with an exhausted sort of delight. 


It was no more than a few days later that the high priestess sat in 
her chamber, and heard something that made her cold metal heart 
skip a beat. 


Silence. 


The ticking of the God and World stopped, suddenly, eternally, and 
instantly she knew in every fiber of her metallic being that it was the 
end of the World. Before the gear under the city gave way, and 
everything began to crumbled and fall. The high priestess, in reality, 
was one of the lucky ones, desperate and strong enough to scamper 
through the ruins as they tumbled and collapsed in on themselves, 
falling seemingly endlessly, until she finally reached a point where 
the gears gave way to crumbling earth. Her sharpened needlepoint 
fingers grasped at grass and tree roots for purchase, and her crystal 
eyes looked up. 


She saw the sun, a ball of fire so bright yet far away she could 
hardly comprehend the very notion of it, much less fully accept what 
she was seeing, and then something came over her head, a 
carriage hoisted into the air by blades moving so rapidly they flowed 
into one. 


And with the last tic of her heart, she saw four faces (but ten pair of 
eyes) looking down from the bizarre vehicle, smiling in triumph. 


Her heart went still and she fell into the gaping crevasse where once 
two gods fell to sleep and battle. 


And the ocean quickly filled what was left of the hole, as if it had 
never been there in the first place. 


The Great Siege of Julabin 


The following is an excerpt taken from SCP-140, detailing the siege 
of the city-state Julabin located in what is now [REDACTED], 
Norway. 


*Note: Based on context as well as usage in previous passages, the 
following cultural terms have been successfully translated: 
Speck-second 

Mark-minute 

Turn-hour 

Length-day 

Set-night 

Shift-week 

Range-month 

Cycle-year 

Markeqs-measure of weight 

Pateks-measure of distance 

Tukats-currency 


In the Thirty-Eighth Cycle of Yurta, relations between the 
Daevites and the independent city-nation of Julabin 
quickly began to deteriorate. As Julabin was situated 
near the Northern mouth of the great Htazla river, 
Czrakhin Alkri had always desired to take over the well- 
situated stronghold as another addition to the Daeva 
Empire since the beginning of his rule in the Twenty- 
Third Cycle of Yurta. 


Certainly, Julabin seemed a grand prize. With a 
population of seven hundred thousand men, a coinage 
flow of sixty-three million tukats per Range, a livestock 
and produce intake of forty million markeqs and outtake 
of thirty-seven million markegs per Range, the city-nation 
had always been one of the most wealthy in the Northern 
regions. 


Alkri greatly wished to rule over it, but at first lacked the 
troops and resources to forcibly take over the powerful 
Julabins. A fearsome drought in the Empire's South- 
Western provinces in the Twenty-Seventh Cycle and civil 
unrest around the Empire due to famine destabilized the 
nation's unity and demoralized Alkri's Black Horde. As 
such, the cunning Czrakhin decided a different approach: 
occupation through economic and cultural means. 


Quickly dispatching a diplomatic convoy in the Tenth 
Range of the Twenty-Eighth Cycle, Alkri began a trade 
route between the Daeva Empire and Julabin. Over the 
years, the city-nation grew to rely on the Empire's steady 
supply of high quality meat, produce, textiles, iron, 
timber, and pottery. In addition, Julabin rapidly became 
flooded with Daevite culture. Traders from the Empire 
brought into the city their music, art, sagas, folklore, 
legends, and myths. Daevite cuisine was also warmly 
welcomed by the Julabins, in particular the savoury 
shychi, made of Numbik Kippyt, betalrote, and hrizakl. 


As trade between the two nations increased, greater 
numbers of Daevites immigrated into Julabin, so much 
so that by the end of the Thirty-Third Cycle of Yurta, 
twelve thousand Daevites had settled in a district within 
Julabin that became known as the Daevikrugl. Daevite 
culture permeated the city-nation; soon the entire Julabin 
population, from the lowliest of excrement cleaners to the 
wealthiest of boyerehs, was enthralled in its exotic 
tastes. Daevite foods, arts, and even traditions rapidly 
replaced their local Julabin counterparts, and to Czrakhin 
Alkri, it seemed as though his goal was an arm's length 
away. 


However, the Julabin priest-king Ingrudn gradually 
realized Alkri's plot, and in the First Range of the Thirty- 
Eighth Cycle of Yurta ordered the banishment of all 
Daevite residents from the city. He then dissolved all 
trade agreements with the Daeva Empire and imposed 
ludicrous tariffs on all non-Julabin goods and products. 


This was seen as a perfect solution to the threat of a 
Daevite takeover, and Ingrudn soon lowered his guard. 
After all, the Daeva faced famine and serf revolts, and 
there was no possibility of a war against him. 


Unknown to Ingrudn, though, was the fact that the Daeva 
Empire had been drastically increasing its imports of 
grain and livestock from surrounding regions since the 
Thirtieth Cycle, successfully preventing starvation around 
the empire and calming the masses. Alkri, as well, had 
been raising his armies in secret and managed to double 
to size of his Black Horde. 


And so, without delay, the Czrakhin Alkri led eighty- 
thousand of the Empire's finest and marched for Julabin 
in the Thirteenth Range of the Thirty-Eighth Cycle. 
Moving by night and camping by day, the Black Horde 
advanced steadily towards the city without delay. Alkri 
sent scouts ahead of the main army to clear all hamlets 
and villages along the way of their denizens, ensuring 
that no stray peasant would report back to Julabin. He 
ordered his warriors to wrap all weapons in oilcloths and 
all horse and baggage-mule hooves in woollen sacks to 
muffle any sound of their approach. Yet despite all 
precautions taken, Alkri missed one thing. 


The Black Horde's movements routed all the wildlife from 
the surrounding areas, and the panicking oleinei, krolika, 
and ptistyaka soon alerted Julabin lookouts of the 
impending invasion. So when Alkri finally arrived at the 
gates of the city, he was enraged to see the walls lined 
with ranks of roaring Julabin archers. As the element of 
surprise was lost to him, Alkri could only order his men to 
besiege the city directly. So began the Great Siege of 
Julabin. 


A long wait was not at all favourable for the Black Horde. 
While Julabin had reserves full of grain and pens upon 
pens of ovtsei and skutiy, Alkri's men had only the 
supplies resting on the backs of their baggage-mules. 
The frost would sap strength and morale away as quickly 


as any arrow or blade. And so Alkri sat with his captains 
and debated the best approach. Saegmat, Alkri's second 
in command, wished to delay no further and commence 
a frontal assault against the walls, and ordered the 
immediate construction of several wooden towers using 
the area's forests for material. 


While the other captains were quite content to follow 
Saegmat's plan, Alkri was not. He foresaw the loss of a 
large number of his own warriors along the walls of 
Julabin, and contemplated an alternative action. Yet on 
the Twenty-Third Length of the siege, Saegmat's towers 
were completed, and in the first few Turns the Black 
Horde attempted to breach Julabin's walls. 


Saegmat's assault was a disaster. The siege towers, 
hastily constructed of dried timber, were set alight by 
Julabin archers. No wet hides had been pasted onto 
them during construction to both increase the speed of 
completion and preserve what small number of beasts 
the Black Horde had with them. Half the towers 
collapsed from fire damage, and the other half were 
rendered useless because of the heat from burning 
planks of wood. The attack ended soon after it started, 
with not a single Daeva touching the white walls of the 
city. Two thousand eighty warriors were roasted alive, 
and Saegmat himself was crushed underneath a 
splintered pile of blazing timber. Alkri's men dared not 
recover his body, for the cheering Julabin soldiers 
closely watched for any who dared come close to the 
walls. 


Disgraced and demoralized, the Black Horde was forced 
to wait for the Set to come before attempting a recovery. 
A small group of men, cloaked by the darkness, 
managed to sneak to where the charred remains of 
Saegmat laid, and carried it back to Alkri's camp. 
Stricken with grief for the loss of his sword-brother, the 
Czrakhin vowed bloody revenge upon Ingrudn and the 
Julabins. 


Alkri's cunning plan finally came to him on the Thirty-First 
Set, among the foggy depths of slumber. He ordered the 
construction of underground tunnels leading into Julabin 
immediately, and with renewed spirit his Black Horde 
began their muddy work. To shield the digging from 
prying Julabin eyes, large wooden screens were raised 
before each tunnel entrance. To divert attention, Alkri 
sent small bands of warriors, no more than twenty or 
thirty, towards the wall. They would shoot a few arrows 
at the archers on the wall, hide behind their shields, then 
retreat back to the palisades of the Horde's camp. 


The tunnels were at last finished on the Fortieth Length 
of the Great Siege, and Alkri quickly moved to exact his 
vengeance upon the Julabins. As soon as Set's darkness 
fell upon the land, the Czrakhin led fourscore of his finest 
warriors into the tunnels and underneath the walls. 
Emerging onto the streets of the city, Alkri and his men 
slaughtered the slumbering, unwitting sentinels and 
opened the mighty gates of Julabin. As the Black Horde 
charged into the city full of bloodlust, Alkri headed for the 
palace with Saegmat's sword and shield in hand. 


As his warriors ran amok in the city, Alkri entered the 
throne room alone and was met by two warriors and 
Ingrudn and Jaekl, the Julabin Captain of the Royal 
Guard. Quickly decapitating the two guards, the Czrakhin 
then met the captain at the middle of the cavernous 
chamber in a clash of steel as the priest-king huddled by 
a pillar, yelling abuse at both men. 


The duel could not have been between men, but rather 
gods. Rippling muscles underneath layers of armour 
battered away at each other, sweat flowing freely down 
the chiselled figures. Alkri and Jaekl were locked in 
brutal combat for sixty Marks, neither one giving any 
ground. And as arms wearied and breaths shortened, a 
bead of sweat dripped into Jaekl's eye. The captain 
blinked to be rid of the sting, but in that moment Alkri 
stuck him through the throat. 


The Czrakhin loured over the bleeding corpse, panting, 
and glared at the dumb figure of Ingrudn. Alkri then 
slowly advanced towards the coward, and in one deft 
motion took the priest-king's head, and another his heart. 
One in each hand, he then proceeded onto the palace 
balcony. In full view of his Black Horde, Alkri thanked the 
gods for his victory, dropped Ingrudn's head and crushed 
it under his foot, and then bit into his heart. He threw 
both hands into the air, blood coursing down his arms 
and onto his scarred face. 


For three Lengths and three Sets, Alkri and his men 
pillaged and raped and burned, until mighty Julabin 
became a mound of rubble. Every temple was 
ransacked, every storehouse raided, every man killed 
and every woman defiled. The dead and wounded were 
indiscriminately piled together in the city square and 
burned, a scorching blaze that lasted for many Turns and 
ended with Alkri leading his Horde in a joyous feasting of 
the charred flesh. The Julabins were thus stamped out, 
and the city was renamed Saegmadik and absorbed into 
the growling beast that was the Daeva Empire. Thus the 
Great Siege ended, and Alkri once again led our people 
to glory. 


The Great Site-87 Bakesale 


Sloth's Pit, Wisconsin 
Summer 1992 


"I'm sorry, but what." 


This was the near-universal reaction to the fact that Site-87 had 
been underfunded by exactly five thousand, four hundred and 
twenty-one dollars and ninety-two cents, and this deficit was 
increasing by the day. As it turned out, accounts and asset 
protections had failed to locate an entire family of Crimataphagi- 
money-eaters- that had been feeding off of the liquid assets that 
kept Site-87 afloat. They had managed to dispose of most of them 
with toxic assets in the real estate market, but enough were around 
that they were a drain on the containment budget.