Watchers live in the brush of the Eastern Plains, only 
appearing at night. They have the head and front body of 
a white stag, with thin, fine antlers adorned with Moon 
Lily buds. Some say the antlers are not horns at all, but 
actual Moon Lily plants that have sprouted and rooted to 
their heads. However, due to the Watcher's cautious 
nature, no one has been able to prove one theory or the 
other. The back end of the animal is the tail of a serpent, 
long, smooth-scaled, and pearly. The tip of the tail ends 
in a single large Moon Lily, which, like the flowers on the 
Watcher's antlers, will remain a bud until the moment of 


the Watcher's death. 


These creatures are intensely shy, fleeing and vanishing 
in acloud of mist should someone spot them. The only 
time they show themselves is during the time of the 
waning crescent of the First Moon, during which dozens 
of Watchers will gather at the Plains’ thicket and 
undertake a ritual unlike any other. 


When the waning crescent of the First Moon is highest in 
the sky, one Watcher from those present will step 
forward and begin to climb and snake their way up the 
trees until it rests on the top of the leaves. Those below 
begin to rock and circle in rhythm, their movement along 
the ground creating strange and perplexing patterns; all 
the while, they hum in a low, bass-like chorus. As the 
patterns increase in number, the Moon Lilies on the tail 
and antlers of the Watcher atop the trees will begin to 
open. 


Once the Lilies are fully bloomed, the Watcher will let out 
a long, drawn-out cry before pushing off and jumping 
high into the air. The Lilies will begin to release wisps of 
pollen, and the Watcher will inexplicably continue to rise 
like a flying snake for hundreds of feet, continuing to 
ascend towards the Moon. However, as soon as the 
Lilies’ pollen is spent, the Watcher will cease to rise, and 
plummet to the ground. Upon impact, the broken body of 
the animal will dissolve into a mist which rises and 
dissipates into the night sky. All other Watchers will 
appear to sigh and fade, clouding the thicket with the 
same mist until they all disappear; afterwards, the only 
evidence of them ever being present are the strange 
patterns they drew upon the ground. 


When | asked the Librarian Dragons Pari'iin and 
Lu'thanna about the Watchers’ strange practice, they told 
me they could only guess. There are several scripts that 
provide a theory to the Watcher's behavior. Some say 
that the Watchers believe the waning crescent is one of 
their own, an individual that has attained transcendence 


in the heavens, and that the creatures on this earth are 
attempting to join it. Indeed, the crescent resembles an 
arching snake. Other scripts believe the opposite, that 
the creatures see the Moon as a Watcher trapped in the 
sky, and that in jumping, they are attempting to grab it 
and bring it back down. Either way, it is a fascinating, but 
thoroughly enigmatic insight into the Watcher of the 
Waning Moon. Whatever the reason, they show no signs 
of stopping their "ceremony". | wonder if they will ever 
realize that the Moon cannot be caught. 


+ Xargaarths 


The Vuulin Dwarves that live within the Steam Caverns 
just miles from the Ridge are known for their unmatched 
talent in metal-working and gem-cutting. Indeed, the 
geothermal caves which they have made their home in 
are abundant with rare metals and gemstones, and 
accounts for nearly forty percent of all jewelry traded 
through the Fantastic Lands; any piece made by the 
Vuulin is a fine treasure to possess. 


During their mining in the Steam Caverns, the Vuulin 
began to notice that carts of gems would return to the 
surface with fewer stones than originally loaded. Though 
at first confused, they quickly found a creature mixed in 
with their gems that was indistinguishable from the 
stones except when it was feeding: the Xargaarths. 


Xargaarths start their lives looking similar to stones such 
as geodes or agates, with their outer skin covered in a 
sturdy shell that looks exactly like rock; within this shell is 
a mish-mash of tissue and organs. Xargaarths can spout 
small red tentacles for locomotion; as they move, a row 
of microscopic teeth scrape minerals and organic matter 
from the steam Cavern's floors and walls. 


As they grow older, Xargaarths begin to abandon feeding 
on organic matter, and turn solely to stones for "food"; 
much to the Vuulin's dismay, gemstones were the 
Xargaarth's favored treat. After ingesting the crystals, 


Xargaarths incorporate them into their outer shell, where 
they grow along with the rest of the creature as if they 
were a part of the body itself. The older a Xargaarth 
grows, the deeper it tunnels into the earth to find more 
bountiful feasts of jewels. Eventually, they resemble 
giant slug-like creatures covered in countless crystal 
growths; dozens of small stubby legs carry the 
Xargaarth's body as it skitters along the ground. 


Although at first considered a destructive pest to the gem 
trade, the Vuulin have since been domesticating 
Xargaarths as both a pet and a business helper. As it 
turns out, Xargaarths shed crystals that grow too large; 
these discarded gems are collected and sold as they are, 
or further cut into an array of jewelry. Different 
Xargaarths have different preferences for what jewels 
they ingest, so the Vuulin are sure to keep scouting for 
further varieties of Xargaarth "subspecies". During my 
last visit, | saw magnificent specimens of ruby, opal, and 
even diamond Xargaarths in Vuulin care. The good dwarf 
Laire gave me a beautiful fire opal that had fallen off one 
of the creatures, which | now carry in my travel bag 
wherever | go. 


+ The Yanyaar and the Yanyiirus 


There is a forested ring of islands east of the Fantastic 
Lands that has been left largely uncharted due to a 
species even the Dragons shudder to hear mentioned: 
the Yanyaar. 


The Yanyaar spread cold and lifelessness wherever they 
walk, blanching everything around them as they 
continuously sap vitality. Anything living or inanimate that 
comes too close to the Yanyaar will collapse grayed and 
cold in a matter of seconds. Such behavior has caused 
the trees, the earth, and even the surrounding sea of 
their home to turn grey as dust, and so the Yanyaar's 
home is aptly known as the Monochrome Islands. 


Physically, the Yanyaar are tall and lean like the Elves, 


though they do not wear garments, and lack any parts to 
identify gender, if they so have them. Their skin is the 
same grey as everything they touch, and their hands and 
feet both have long, nailess digits that constantly grip 
and ungrip with a chilling fluidity. However, the most 
distinctive, and chilling aspect of the Yanyaar are their 
faces. 


A bulbous, smooth head far too large for a body of their 
thinness, with squinted grey eyes that appear 
disturbingly human. While normally featureless apart 
from the eyes, the Yanyaar's head will split vertically into 
thirds to reveal two separate jaws with even, needle-like 
teeth. During this time, one can see that the Yanyaar's 
"eyes" are more akin to a tongue, a sensory organ 
attached to a fleshy stalk that runs all the way down its 
throat; it is believed the Yanyaar are blind, and rely on 
these "eyes" to smell their surroundings, like a serpent 
tasting the air. 


The first Yanyaar ever seen washed ashore on the 
beaches of the Fantastic Lands sixty years ago, and it 
was from this corpse's autopsy that most of the 
information about this species was obtained. It was easy 
to see where it had come from; even in death, the 
Yanyaar's corpse left a trail of gray in the ocean waves, 
though said trail was lost after the Dragons pursued it for 
dozens of miles offshore. It would take another twenty 
years to find the Monochrome Islands, yet only six 
months for the Dragon Council to declare the area off- 
limits to all. 


Most of the Fantastic Land's inhabitants simply believed 
the Yanyaar were too dangerous to go near, and left it at 
that. |, however, know the deeper meaning behind the 
Monochrome Island being sealed from the world. Ina 
different time, | would have probably been imprisoned, 
maybe even banished from the Fantastic Lands. 
However, now that my home is all but abandoned, | 
leave this information to whomever may stumble upon it. 


behaviour that soon escalated into a three-way fight. D3 was 
victorious, killing D1 and D2 despite being the smallest of the trio 
and despite receiving severe wounds to the jugular. Afterwards the 
surviving dog walked over to the cage and lay down. SCP-798 
returned to its bed, cleaned itself of blood, and then went to sleep. 
D3 did not get back up and was found to have suffered a fatal 
aneurysm. 


Log 798-5: 

Researchers: Doctor and Agent 

Procedure: SCP-798 and another specimen of Rattus norvegicus 
(R1) were placed in an 80 cm by 60 cm cage, separated by a 
transparent plastic divider. 

Details: When the divider was removed, R1 immediately attacked 
SCP-798. Both researchers reported a sudden feeling of acute 
discomfort; quote from Agent _ : "It was like | was suffocating. It 
was like having a migraine while something shoves itself down your 
throat and floods your guts with hot water. Never felt anything like 
it." On instruction by Doctor , Agent reached into the cage, 
deftly separated the two animals, and replaced the divider. SCP-798 
suffered various bite wounds whereas the other rat appeared to 
have avoided harm. 


Addendum 798-5.1: It appears that SCP-798 may be incapable of 
influencing other rats, instead inspiring a primal, murderous rage in 
them by its mere presence. 


Addendum 798-5.2: An hour after procedure 798-5, the personnel 
on guard duty reported that R1 began vocalising a distressed 
squeal. SCP-798 was standing behind the divider, staring intently at 
the other rat. R1 began to bleed from the mouth and defecate all 
over its half of the cage, culminating in a brief but very severe 
seizure. It was found to have died from a myocardial infarction. 


« SCP-797 | SCP-798 | SCP-799 » 


The Yanyaar corpse we recovered was mutilated, with 
huge circular punctures throughout the body. Strangely, 
the wound had no exposed flesh; instead, a black, empty 
void filled the gap. When the poor Dragon doctor Haridus 
tried to examine the wounds, the void turned his flesh to 
pure black; he looked like a living shadow in his final 
moments. Then, with a cry, Haridus faded out of 
existence. When the Dragons finally discovered the 
Monochrome Islands, they found their explanation to the 
darkness seen on the first Yanyaar's body. Beneath dark 
waters of the Yanyaar's home lays the Yanyiirus, an 
even more terrifying creature than the beings above. 


From what the Dragons observed, the Yanyiirus appears 
to be worshiped as a god by the Yanyaar; the Yanyaar 
will cast themselves off the sheer cliffs of the island to 
the sea below, where shadowy tentacles rise in the 
thousands to spear the bodies and drag them below. It is 
unknown how large the Yanyiirus is, though its limbs 
alone are long enough to effortlessly scale the two 
thousand-foot cliffs of the Yanyaar's home and then 
some. The touch of the Yanyiirus appears to have the 
same graying effect as the Yanyaar's touch, but ona 
much more powerful scale, capable of turning things to 
blackness, and then, nothing; as seen with Haridus, the 
touch of a Yanyiirus persists long after initial contact. 
This similarity has driven me to make a hypothesis about 
the beings' relationship: perhaps the Yanyiirus gave the 
Yanyaar with some of its power years and years ago in 
return for their servitude? The dozens of islands 
surrounding the Yanyaar's home show signs of ancient 
ruins; could the Yanyaar have conquered these 
neighboring lands and brought them to their "master"? It 
seems like a plausible explanation, though, since there 
has been no life other than the Yanyaar, the Yanyiirus 
has since resorted to devouring its servants; the once 
much beneficial relationship has become grimly one- 
sided. 


+ Ziira'lasp 


In a fitting, yet bitter sense, the Ziira'lasps will be the last 
entry in this storybook, as they were the last creatures of 
the Fantastic Lands at the end of the War, and the first to 
die out in the New Beginning. 


Although their bodies resembled that of a swan, their 
skin was more attune to that of the Pearl-Crested 
Dolphins that once swam in the Iridescent Seas to the 
south. Their eyes were of the deepest blue, their "wings" 
forever softly shining like fluid ivory, their mouths a 
smooth, toothless bill that curved ever slightly so upward. 
They were capable of taking a human form as well, 
resembling angels and awing all those they passed. 


As beautiful as they were intelligent, the Ziira'lasp were a 
vain and conceited race of creatures, who forever 
squabbled with the Dragons over whose wisdom and 
looks were superior, and so, were disliked by a great 
number of the Fantastic Land's inhabitants, for whom the 
Dragons were born leaders and advisers. As a result, the 
Ziira'lasp secluded themselves from all other beings for 
nearly a milennia, constructing a citadel of their own to 
live apart from those they deemed inferior. They ignored 
all pleas for help in times of calamity, and rejected all 
offerings of friendship. 


It was not until the third awakening of the Lightning- 
Struck Titan that the Ziira'lasp were seen again. 
Vamaroff's Storm returned with terrifying ferocity, and the 
Titan rose with its strength multiplied tenfold. Half of the 
Magician's Council perished in the ensuing fight with the 
beast, along with nearly a hundred Dragons, a thousand 
Birds, and a thousand more Spirits. And still, the 
Ziira'lasp refused to act. 


And so, the Maker himself came to the Ziira'lasp, his face 
dark with fury, his eyes normally full of compassion 
brimming with icy rage. He spurned their race, accused 
them of being petty cowards who watched as their world 
burned around them. For their vanity, he cursed their 
citadel, enchanted it so that no Ziira'lasp could ever set 


foot in it again, then covered it in the ashes of those 
killed by the Titan as a reminder of the suffering the 
Ziira'lasp could have helped prevent. 


Overcome with despair of what they had lost, and what 
they could have had, the Ziira'lasp vowed to never turn 
their backs on the rest of the Fantastic Lands again, and 
charged into the center of the Titan's path. Side by side 
with the Dragons they once despised, and the Master 
they adored, the Ziira'lasp beat back the beast to its 
mountain once again. The Titan fell back into its slumber, 
but the grief and devastation brought about lingered for 
decades to come. 


The Ziira'lasp worked with renewed fervor in rebuilding to 
make up for all the time they had shut themselves away. 
They became the chief architects of the Fantastics 
Lands, and filled this world with their incredible and 
intricate handicraft. This lasted for another thousand 
years, and life prospered. 


And then less then three decades ago, the Great War 
began, and all the Ziira'lasp had or ever would create 
was destroyed in the calamity that followed. Once again, 
the Maker, came, but this time, his eyes held only grief 
as he was forced to smite those who had fanned the 
flames of destruction. The Ziira'lasp desperately tried to 
bring back peace, but to no avail, and so they fell into 
despair. When the last buildings finally crumbled, the 
Ziira'lasp had turned black from the ash and smoke, their 
blue eyes turned bloody red from grief. As the surviving 
others filed out of the Fantastic Lands, the Ziira'lasp 
stayed behind silent as the stones of their cities. And 
within these ruins they remain, turned to stone as the 
suns set for the final time and the world turned cold. 


Bedtime S(CP)tory