Now you must answer my questions nine, sing ninety-nine and ninety. O' what, pray tell, in the mountains fell, and who is the hunter's folly?
{$caption}
Dino--Draws, TroutMaskReplica and Rosyfox2002
How long will we ride this way about?
How long 'til someone caves under the pressure?
My dreams are haunted by armies; armies of ghosts
Faces too blurry to make out
(Idylls of the King - The Mountain Goats)
~10k words, 50 minute read.
Written by Dino--Draws, TroutMaskReplica, and Rosyfox2002
View Dino's other works here!
View Trout's other works here!
Now you must answer my questions nine.
Item#: 9990
Level4
Containment Class:
inanis
Secondary Class:
none
Disruption Class:
none
Risk Class:
none
Mountains affected by SCP-9990.
Special Containment Procedures
As an Inanis class anomaly, SCP-9990 cannot be detected through Veiled means and requires no containment at this time. Long-term research by the Department of Geology and Site-898 via Operation "Devil's Nine Questions" has been approved.
Site-898 holds jurisdiction over any deific remnants discovered within the Appalachians.
Description
An estimation of the area affected by SCP-9990, marked in red.
SCP-9990 is a proposal for the existence of the “Appalachian Akiva Phenomenon,” a poorly understood geological anomaly that is theorized to affect the entirety of the Appalachian Mountains, a geographical region that comprises a significant portion of North America's East Coast.
While its true extent is currently unknown, this phenomenon is presently defined by the unusual ambient Akiva radiation within Appalachia, which ranges from 200 to 300 centiAkiva, a level typically ascribed to the focal points of major world religions. Readings of this significance interfere with detection equipment and sensors' ability to tare out background data, rendering them inoperable. As a result, the analysis of Akiva radiation levels done in Appalachia must be conducted on samples in sealed, sterilized labs to garner accurate readings.
Suspected phenomena tied to SCP-9990 include:
- Geological inconsistency with expected erosion rates and elevation;
- Unidentified lights after dark;
- Sightings of animals with anatomical distortion;
- Unusual and consistent reports of auditory hallucinations relating to whispering, whistling, and the calling of one's name;
- High concentrations of missing persons reports;
- Spontaneous revival of the dead during rainfall.
SCP-9990 was initially discovered during the research of SCP-8446 on 12/02/1975, when Site-898 found heavy interference while attempting to read the Akiva levels within instances. After the true manifestation of SCP-8446 brought attempts at widescale Akiva monitoring, it was proposed to give the discovered anomalous interference the designation of SCP-9990.
It is theorized that SCP-9990's presence may be impacting and altering the local geology and environment of the Appalachian Mountains on a significant scale. As a result, Site-898 has created Operation "Devil's Nine Questions" to conduct further research. (See below.)
Operation Devil's Nine Questions
Led by Dr. Hellen Gibbs, Head of the Department of Geology
Operation Devil's Nine Questions is a one month period of both geological and folkloric field research being conducted within the Appalachian Mountains. The field of study for this expedition will extend through nine individual states; starting in Pennsylvania, and traveling through West Virginia, Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia, with the expedition ending in Alabama.
Three members of Site-898 staff — Doctors Helen Gibbs, Fate Hargroves, and Atticus Rune — make up the primary team for Devil's Nine Questions, and will undergo the roughly 900 mile expedition. Throughout it, they will remain in contact with Geological Research Site-898 to document results and contribute to the SCP-9990 file.
Operation Devil's Nine Questions aims to answer the following:
- Does SCP-9990 exhibit geological consequences on the Appalachian mountains?
- Can the nature of said geological consequences be documented?
- What is the range of SCP-9990’s effect?
- Does SCP-9990 exhibit ecological consequences on the Appalachian mountains?
- Can the nature of said ecological consequences be documented?
- Is there a link between Appalachian folklore and SCP-9990?
- Are there other traces of deific entities within the Appalachian mountains?
- Do SCP-9990’s containment procedures require adjustment?
- What is the source of SCP-9990?
Select communications from the expedition team, originally additional notes or exchanges, have been chronologically logged and added to this file in post. These are visually displayed with the following:
Dr. Hellen Gibbs: Head of the Department of Geology. Expedition lead and primary geologist.
Dr. Fate Hargroves: Site-898's Cyptozoology Lead. Primary tactical theologian and cryptozoologist.
Dr. Atticus Rune: Regional folkloric consult, cryptozoological aid.
Dr. Hellen Gibbs
Dr. Fate Hargroves
Dr. Atticus Rune
The following are communication transcripts, research notes, samples and findings from Project Devil's Nine Questions.
Site-898 Exterior Lot CCTV
Date: 04/03/1975
Personnel Present: Dr. Hellen Gibbs, Dr. Fate Hargroves, Dr. Atticus Rune
Dr. Gibbs' van is painted black, caked in mud, dust and is covered in countless dents and scratches. Two novelty bumper stickers read "I BRAKE FOR OUTCROPS" and "GEOLOGISTS NEVER TAKE SCHIST FOR GRANITE". It is worn, but well-used and far-traveled.
Dr. Gibbs hoists open the trunk with a grunt. Drs. Rune and Hargroves approach, both carrying duffle bags.
Dr. Rune: We sure this puppy is gonna make it all the way down the coast?
Dr. Hargroves gives a small chuckle.
Dr. Gibbs: Likely. [She pats the trunk door] If it doesn’t? There’s a spare tire and a toolbox in the trunk.
Dr. Rune: Hope you’re right.
Dr. Rune shoves his hands into his pockets.
Dr. Rune: By the by, how long you think we’ll be in each state? On average.
Dr. Gibbs begins to load the trunk, and pauses briefly to think.
Dr. Gibbs: Probably a day or so — not counting travel, that is. It will likely depend on what we find and the weather.
Dr. Hargroves: I see a tent in there, are we roughing it completely?
Dr. Gibbs: For the most part, yes. Being easily mobile will make things more efficient. [Dr. Gibbs grimaces.] Primarily because I don't want to work out the logistics of places to stay.
Dr. Hargroves: Wonderful!
Dr. Rune: Well, hell, that blows some of my ideas outta the water. We’ll make it work, somehow. You’d just better hope that the weather doesn’t fuck us sideways.
Dr. Hargroves: We will be making pit stops, mm?
Dr. Gibbs: Mostly for food.
Dr. Hargroves bumps Dr. Rune with her hip.
Dr. Hargroves: Then it seems your idea is still a go! We can hit some diners or bars.
Dr. Rune playfully nudges her shoulder in return, chuckling.
Dr. Rune: Oh, good, maybe this won't be a shit show, then. Bars and diners is what I was thinking, but camping knocks out motels. Those are some of the best places to get locals talking. Can't believe I’m bein' paid to drink and get people loose-lipped on the job.
Dr. Gibbs cracks a small smile.
Dr. Gibbs: What phrasing do I put on the paper to justify using the research grant for that sort of expense?
Dr. Hargroves barks a loud laugh, placing her duffel bag in the trunk. She then gestures with flourish.
Dr. Hargroves: Investigatory efforts, of course.
Dr. Gibbs makes a quiet sound. It's difficult to discern if it's a sigh or a chuckle.
Dr. Gibbs: Let's try to keep our investigatory efforts as safe as we can, though. It's only going to be the three of us, out there.
Dr. Rune gasps and huffs, exaggerated.
Dr. Rune: Have some faith! I ain’t gonna get myself completely slammed!
Dr. Rune laughs while shoving his duffel bag into the back with Hargroves’.
Dr. Rune: Besides, I think drunken antics is the least of our worries, where we’re goin’. We got a backup plan if shit goes south?
Dr. Gibbs: While we're going to be armed, if things go awry we'll have contact with the Site. We radio in emergency and hunker down. I always carry flares.
Dr. Hargroves: Solid backup. I packed some supplies for warding and protection alongside the analysis tools. If I'm not rusty of my hometown folklore, they should work.
Dr. Gibbs nods firmly.
Dr. Rune: Well, even if you’re rusty, I’m not. We’re set, then?
Dr. Hargroves: Indeed.
Dr. Rune sprints to the passenger seat of the van.
Dr. Rune: I call shotgun!
Dr. Hargroves snickers and snaps her fingers as Dr. Gibbs begins to walk to the front of her van. They all enter the vehicle.
I. SNOW
On 05/03/1975, Operation Devil's Nine Questions officially began with the departure of the research team from Site-898. After approximately 6 hours of travel, they arrived at their first destination — Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia — to acquire geological and topographical data from the Allegheny Mountains.
Dr. Gibbs: Hargroves, do there exist Akiva-specific reactions? I was going to clarify that with "chemically," but I'm unsure if that's the right phrasing.
Dr. Hargroves: Reactions do exist, though I think their classification lies in a grey area. Metaphysical, but entwined with the physical. So maybe chemical, maybe not. It's highly variable depending on the region and its related theology, but Akiva-entwined objects will typically have reactions.
Dr. Gibbs: Do you know how to prompt those types of reactions?
Dr. Hargroves: Both Rune and I were born and raised in these mountains. I can see if they react to any folklorics known between the two of us, if you can provide samples for testing.
Dr. Rune: She's already wasted no time filling the back of the van with rocks from the roadside, so I'm gonna reckon she's providing.
Over the course of two days, four specific samples were found to be of interest and analyzed below.
It has been noted that when placed within a vacuum-sealed Akiva scale, all samples read levels that ranged from 20 to 30 centiAkiva. Additionally, "Akiva Reactions" have been defined as anomalous properties that can only be drawn out by specific folkloric invocation.
Preliminary Field Analysis Report
Recorded by Dr. Hellen Gibbs
Diagram of Mid-Atlantic Appalachian rock types. Hover to enlarge.
Sample Name: Sandstone, Kanawha Formation
Sample Observations:
Sample is a lithic sandstone. It's a primarily clay matrix intermixed with grains of feldspar and quartz.
Akiva Reaction:
While not noticeable within the sample itself, or broken off pieces, it was found during collection that especially large deposits of sandstones seem to "whisper" when strong winds blow through them, but the wind typically renders the speech unintelligible.
Sample Name: Coal, New River Formation
Sample Observations:
Sample of bituminous coal with a dark brown-black coloration, discovered within a Carboniferous age sandstone.
Akiva Reaction:
During the night, knocking on the sample occasionally produces a response knock from within.
Sample Name: Unconsolidated sand, Quaternary Alluvium deposit
Sample Observations:
Loose quartz sand and gravel that has been deposited by either running water, flood plains, or lake beaches. The specific sample gathered was taken from a stream bed.
Akiva Reaction:
Sample resonates in response to human whistling, amplifying its volume and carry distance significantly. However, it appears that the resulting whistling induced the attention of hostile cervine anomalies that were, unbeknownst to the team, nearby. Further testing aborted.
Sample Name: Shale, Bluefield Formation
Sample Observations:
Terrestrially deposited shale comprised of various clays and plagioclase. The rock is a deep red in coloration due to the presence of oxidized hematite.
Akiva Reaction:
It is believed that the iron content within the sample was capable of partially fending off the presence of the previously mentioned entities, due to the dropping of the sample seeming to dissuade the anomalies from approaching the team's nearby hiding place.
Dr. Rune: We both should've known better than that whistling stunt.
Dr. Hargroves: I simply wanted to confirm if it bore truth in a more… scientific manner. Prove a point.
Dr. Rune: Sure, but still. I think we need to get out the actual protections. We got lucky with that hunk of rock.
Dr. Hargroves: Of course, of course. For the sake of this file, I'll radio one of the boys at home to put in a shot of some of our old papers.
File upload.
II. DOWN
On 08/03/1975, the expedition team reached Virginia. While traveling along the Blue Ridge Mountains via the Appalachian Trail, they discovered the abandoned remains of a coal mine. After alerting Site-898 of the structure's presence, they entered.
Archived Recording
Date: 08/03/1975
Personnel Present: Dr. Hellen Gibbs, Dr. Fate Hargroves, Dr. Atticus Rune
Dr. Rune has activated his camcorder. It is pointed down at his feet as he walks. The ground is muddy and dark, and the footsteps of the other team members are audible amidst water droplets.
Dr. Hargroves: Any particular reason for being down here, or are you getting homesick?
Dr. Rune chuckles. Dr Gibbs exhales audibly.
Dr. Gibbs: Peacock coal. I thought I saw flecks of it in other samples, but I need a proper piece for analysis.
Dr. Rune: Always wondered what was so special about that stuff. It's rare, ain't it?
Dr. Gibbs: Quite. Rare and under-researched, geologically speaking, like many things out here.
Dr. Hargroves' eyes trace along the mine’s old, wooden supports.
Dr. Hargroves: I don't think I've ever even heard of it. Didn't really grow up in a coal area.
Dr. Rune scoffs and shakes his head a little.
Dr. Rune: Doesn’t surprise me. Even with my Pa working the mines, I didn’t hear about it often. My Ma said having a piece of it was bad luck.
Dr. Hargroves: And we're actively seeking to pocket some! How quaint.
Dr. Rune: Average Tuesday on our end. I think it was something about how the shine of it attracted spirits? It’s been a while.
Dr. Gibbs: Interesting.
Dr. Gibbs adjusts her head lamp, and illuminates the way further down the mine shaft. It's cramped, wet and aging. Dr. Gibbs traces a hand along the dust-coated walls as they walk, squinting.
Dr. Hargroves: I would assume that only beasts of a more… unsavory variety would be the ones drawn to such a thing, mm?
Dr. Rune shrugs.
Dr. Rune: I dunno. Never specified. Then again, if it were one of you two that found a shiny rock, you’d be on it like hounds to a hare.
Dr. Rune comes to an abrupt halt. The audio picks up a distant knocking sound.
Dr. Gibbs and Dr. Hargroves both noticeably stiffen after the sound. Dr. Gibbs slowly turns her head to look at the others.
Dr. Rune: Fuck me sideways. We haven’t even found the damn thing yet.
Dr, Rune steps forward to put his hands on the nearest set of wooden beams. They squelch loud enough to pick up on the recording upon contact. He chuckles nervously.
Dr. Rune: Y’know, I don’t think they’re supposed to do that.
Brief silence on recording. Dr. Rune sighs.
Dr. Rune: We shouldn’t stay long. Got a feeling that was our only warning.
Dr. Gibbs grimaces at the sound; her eyes can be seen darting around, staring at the walls. She approaches a loose cluster of rock hidden by the shadow of a support beam. Dr. Hargroves stares down the yawning darkness of the tunnel that stretches before them.
Dr. Hargroves: I'm not pleased to admit it, but I am unfamiliar with what lurks in places like these. Above ground is my specialty.
Dr. Rune: What rock did you live under growing up? Lots of things in places like these. Coal fairies. Ghosts.
Dr. Rune pauses, staring into the darkness, craning his neck. His voice gets quieter.
Dr. Rune: Tommyknockers.
One of four recovered samples.
Dr. Gibbs: …So what was it warning us of?
Dr. Rune: Danger.
Dr. Rune points his flashlight up towards the ceiling to a beam that is leaking, buckling under the mountain’s weight.
Dr. Rune: Like that.
Dr. Hargroves: …That’ll do it…
Dr. Gibbs casts a glance to the roof before shoving a few things into her bag, having pried pieces from the wall with her rock hammer. She turns back to the other two, rising to her feet and pushing them backward by the shoulders.
Dr. Gibbs: Go.
The entrance tunnel to the mine experienced a structural collapse approximately one minute after the team's departure.
The analysis of the gathered mineral gleamed the following:
Additional collected sample that had been stained by akivite coal.
- A single sample, in isolation, had the unusual (for the area) centiAkiva reading of zero;
- The sample, when analyzed with other Appalachian samples, would increase their centiAkiva levels;
- This increase is exponential to the amount of the unknown mineral present around other geological matrices.
It's theorized that this mineral is the first of its kind — a deposit of pure Akiva — and appears to function as an "amplifier" of ambient Akiva levels, as opposed to actively outputting Akiva like most infused objects.
This mineral, colloquially termed "akivite coal" by the Department of Geology, has been given the designation of SCP-9990-A.
III. THUNDER
Devil's Nine Questions arrived in Kentucky on 10/03/1975, with the intention to hike the area around Black Mountain. During this hike, unexpected radio interference occurred. Radio communication began at 18:32:16 with some audio distortion.
18:32:16 | Dr. Gibbs
We have been caught in a storm. Presently, the three of us are waiting it out under an outcrop. Will update if needed, over.
18:35:52 | Dr. Gibbs
There's light in the sky, but it's too consistent to be lightning.
Captured photo.
18:48:05 | Dr. Gibbs
Rune has harkened it to the Brown Mountain lights. A phenomenon farther South in these mountains, said they might be spreading outside of Carolina. We've known about them for a while, but the Foundation never really bothered.
They're mostly appearing in pairs.
18:50:39 | Dr. Gibbs
They're off in the distance. I can't tell how far, but they're hovering around the mountains. They don't go far down, but keep below the clouds. The pairs just bob around.
18:51:13 | Dr. Gibbs
The Blue Ridge Mountains are higher than I thought they were.
Rune says he feels watched.
19:03:19 | Dr. Gibbs
I've been meaning to add something to this file, actually. About the Appalachians as a whole.
[Heavy rainfall is audible.]
These mountains are wrong. The heights are wrong. It's been a geological mystery for years.
They shouldn't be this big.
I think the Akiva radiation has sunk into the rock itself, focused and channeled by the akivite coal, hampering erosion. Like a mirror reflecting light. Our lab samples were always tougher than they should be. The rock has been strengthened.
[Thunder cracks.]
It's 9990's doing.
19:22:41 | Unknown
[Unintelligible static is sustained for thirty seconds.]
19:36:48 | Dr. Gibbs
The thunder is deafening. The storm's right on us.
19:37:01 | Dr. Gibbs
There's another light.
Unknown.
At 19:41:10, the storm fully dissipated. The expedition team signaled their safety shortly after.
19:42:56 | Dr. Gibbs
Shaken, but alive. Over.
It is presently unknown if the phenomenon encountered during the storm was one wholly undocumented, or linked to already recorded anomalous activity. Further investigation by the Devil's Nine Questions team is pending arrival to North Carolina.
Dr. Hargroves: That was too close of a brush with the unknown. I think that it's a sign that we need to change our approach. Switch gears, so to speak.
Dr. Gibbs: I… must say I do agree. I have certainly gathered enough samples to work with for now. What do you suggest?
Dr. Hargroves: Let me and Rune take some of the metaphorical reins, shift our gaze to the second part of our endeavors out here.
Dr. Rune: About time.
IV. DEATH
Dr. Hargroves: I believe that SCP-1102 has already been invoked within this file, but allow me to speak of it again here.
Sometimes, the dead do not stay buried. The Blue Ridge Mountains are lined with haunting after haunting, of specters that rise from the rainfall. Their time is short, the impact minimal, but the pale, twisted things that crawl from the ether seek out their comrades from life. They do not find them. The Foundation finds them.
And we sit and we wonder what could possibly dredge up the dead from the depths.
Dr. Gibbs: Perhaps then, it's to the depths we should look.
Dr. Rune: I think I know just the place, too.
The expedition arrived in Tennessee on 12/03/1975 to investigate SCP-9990's possible connections to SCP-1102, an anomalous phenomenon throughout the Blue Ridge Mountains revolving around the spontaneous and temporary revival of the dead during periods of rainfall.
They met with a provisional researcher of SCP-1102 stationed within the state to discuss the anomaly and its range. Dr. Matrey informed them of potential concerns relating to mass revival events due to a history of mining disasters — with a location of interest being the Craighead Caverns, an extensive network of partially flooded caves containing one of the world's largest underground lakes: the Lost Sea.
The Lost Sea.
The Devil's Nine Questions team accepted the offer to investigate the cavern and lake with the intent to gain insight on the anomaly. Foundation-recorded encounters and understanding of the nature of SCP-1102 instances while "alive" are minimal.
Prior to entry, and in case of mass revival, the team was briefed on Procedure 1102-EVE "Resurrection Woods."
Below is a transcribed version of an account by Dr. Rune, retelling the exploration of the Craighead Caverns.
We were cast into the bowels of the Lost Sea on a kayak that barely fit the three of us. We’d been told a lot of things in the debriefing, but only one was on my mind when we entered the caverns: it looked like it was going to rain.
“Well, we’ll sure as hell know if 1102’s effects are felt down here, now,” It was Hargroves who murmured, against the sounds of the rainfall that pounded against the earth over our heads. Dread hung in the stalagmites, but she was steady as she lowered into the front of the kayak. She flashed a reassuring smile. I remember that it didn’t help.
Gibbs’ face was as stony as a gargoyle. She grumbled without words, struggling into the middle, which left me with the rear.
“Not a cave diver?” I had asked, lowering myself behind her.
"What do you take me for?" Gibbs scoffed. "There's a big difference between cave diving and underwater cave diving, and there's an even bigger difference between those and exploring the virgin passages of a massive underground lake. And of course, the chance of zombies."
“Oh, so not-deer are fine, but zombies are above your pay grade?” I teased, but she was right. We were diving into quite literal uncharted waters. These parts of the caves aren't open to people.
“Good thing we aren’t underwater cave diving, then!” Hargroves chuckled, before turning to glance back, “We ready to go?”
Gibbs and I exchanged looks and nodded, then paddled through the dark, dark lake. The quiet that fell upon us — save the sound of our oars cutting through water — was suffocating. The walls changed from spacious chambers to narrow gullets we barely choked through. We entered the mouth of this lake and its throat squeezed tight.
“Underwater cave diving,” Gibbs echoed, breaking the silence. “I’d never. Do you know how many foolish divers die in those depths? They drag their rescuers down, too, sometimes. I'd rather give myself to the woods."
“Comforting." Hargroves scoffed, "I didn't hear you echoing such warnings back in Virginia. That mine's maw nearly closed on us, there."
I couldn't see her face, but I saw Gibbs' shoulders go tense. She sighed.
“Right. Speaking of, did you look into the history here? Any, uh—”
“Deaths?” I asked. Gibbs nodded. “None on record. Popped over to the museum, asked around, and got nothing. You know how these things go, though. Cave has existed for millions of years. We got no way of knowing how many met their maker."
“So, there’s definitely corpses down here,” Hargroves huffed.
“If not human corpses, definitely animal ones,” I replied. “The museum up there showed Pleistocene era jaguar fossils and ancient elk, and 1102’s ties to the corpses are dubious. Guess that’s part of why we’re here, though.”
Hargroves chuckled, low. “Could you imagine stumbling into here to get away from a rainy night and running into—”
“Stop,” Gibbs interrupted. Her flashlight guided us as we rowed, its fickle beam peered down a narrow but passable crack in the wall that seemed to empty into a larger part of the lake. The water rippled, pulled down the passage.
Beyond the pass, something caught the light and bounced it back to us.
“Get closer.”
None of us enjoyed shimmying the kayak through the gap. The walls closed in and raked their cold fingers across my coat, left frigid water against our skins. It made me squirm, and Hargroves was getting real sick of it real fast. I remember watching her struggle to pull her oar from the water.
At one point, it broke free with a crack, the other end smacking against the stone. It was dumb that we didn’t think more of it.
We drifted closer towards that odd reflection. They were crystals, of some type — sprouting out of the ground like blossoms. Gibbs called them "anthodites," as she crawled from the kayak, unshethed her rock hammer, and began to pry.
While gathering, she murmured something under her breath. Something about the run-off counting as rainfall.
I'd called out: “Let’s try not to stick around long enough to find out, yeah?” while my eyes following hers to the steady trickle of water from the ceiling. Hargroves hissed between her teeth. We hadn’t noticed till now.
Gibbs waved her hand dismissively and knelt down, using the chisel and hammer to pry a petal from the flower. “In a spot like this with water flow like that, these should’ve eroded by now.”
“Like the rest of the mountains,” Hargroves adds.
Gibbs nodded, I think. I wasn't paying attention. My eyes were glued to the lake, hairs on end as I swore I heard noises from the water. The swishing and frothing of movement beneath the surface was barely audible over the trickling of the ceiling. I tried convincing myself that I was hearing things.
I wasn’t. I saw a ripple in the distance, and my eyes bulged outta my skull. I didn’t have time to try and kid myself before my oar got yanked to one side. My grip tightened, breath held as I looked for the culprit.
Hands. Calcified, human hands squirming, fingers writhing like stone snakes struggling to grasp the paddle.
My knuckles went white, and my body locked up. I meant to say something, but I’d been gagged. I must’ve looked like a fish gasping for air. My mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but words died on my lips. Hargroves was busy watching Gibbs, back turned.
Gibbs was prattling on about something, when I finally found my voice, though only was able to sputter out:
“Hellen,”
She'd stumbled back and turned to us, and I don't think I'll easily forget the wild look in her eyes as she realized it too.
It was a body. She'd been feeling up a skull. And it wasn't alone.
How hadn’t we seen it before?
Outside, the sun must’ve set behind the clouds. The ground shifted beneath Gibbs’ feet, and the undead army of the Lost Sea squirmed to life. Hargroves and I were driven from shock as countless hands and arms that rose from the dark, grabbing onto anything they could get a hold of. We fought to keep hold of our oars, and I could feel the things scratching the kayak beneath me.
“Get in!” Hargroves shouted. Gibbs didn’t have to be told twice, nearly sending us sideways with her entry. The woman began cursing our blindness in the dark.
“Not now,” Gibbs snapped. “Row.”
Smacking, shifting, splashing, and crunching accompanied our clumsy escape attempt. Our rowing turned to flailing and hitting away hands in a way that propelled us forward by happenstance.
None of us were enthused about having to squeeze the gap again. I don't even recall what Gibbs and Hargroves had been snapping at one another about. I just kept putting the paddle in the water.
The walls tickled me again as we passed what must’ve been a hundred hands trying to breach the wall. My jacket snagged in one of their jagged hands. I yelped and yanked myself free, nearly falling overboard, and held my breath till we were through.
Hargroves urged us to keep moving. I felt lightheaded. The fingertips against the boat stopped, but I couldn’t get the sensation off my skin.
When we scrambled to shore and threw ourselves from those horrible waters, we weren't the only ones upon the gravel.
Illustration provided by Dr. Rune.
A stag. Massive, fossilized, and taller than any I'd ever seen. It strode from the shadows with its head held high. There were hands impaled on its antlers, oozing blood and pus down its brow.
It stopped approaching a few feet from us. The waters beyond kept squirming.
So we backed away. It was a staring contest from hell, against a thing with rotted eyes. When we slipped around a bend in the rock, we made a break for it.
When we got to the entrance of this part of the cavern, I tore the rock hammer from Gibbs’ hand. I could hear the sound of hooves.
“What are you doing?!” Gibbs shouted.
I shouted something about the protocol, fumbling for the railroad spikes and nails I had in my pockets. Hargroves shouted something, but I wasn't paying attention.
My fingers took half a dozen hammerings in the scramble to drive the spikes into the ground. They were slick with blood, in the end, but the nails and spikes formed a line across the entrance, and I called that good enough.
We ran and didn’t look back. Nothing followed.
I hope that it worked. Will probably help me sleep better at night.
There could be countless hordes, pockets like these. 1102’s effects are different down there. The depths care not for the freshness of the dead. We don’t know, and I’m not sure we should, so long as it’s self contained.
They'll be dead again by sunrise.
Dr. Gibbs: That… thing was of 8446, isn't it? So the deer god's influence is still alive and well, out here, even after it vanished from our detection.
Dr. Hargroves: I wouldn't have expected anything less. It seems that 9990 is quite good at cloaking things from us.
Dr. Gibbs: Is it behind this?
Dr. Hargroves: I don't think so. A piece of a larger picture? Perhaps. But what we've divulged on the Mad Deer's domain doesn't fit the profile that we've been building in 9990, too small of a scope for it. Its presence is noted, but it's not what I think our quarry is.
Dr. Rune: Then what the hell is?
Dr. Hargroves: I don't know. We need to find more pieces, first.
V. GRIEF
Upon arrival in North Carolina on 15/03/1975, the team took the opportunity to engage in study of a pre-established regional phenomenon: The Brown Mountain Lights. This was done with the intent to cross-reference against the data recovered from the Kentucky encounter with similar phenomenon via Drs. Hargroves and Rune interviewing residents surrounding the Pisgah National Forest.
Interviewer: Dr. Fate Hargroves
Date: 08/03/1975
Foreword: While within Pisgah National Park, Dr. Hargroves crossed paths with a woman before inquiring about the lights.
“Oh, I came from Virginia specifically for the lights! A lot of people think it’s light pollution or reflections, but I think they’re natural phenomena. Ball lightning is my culprit of choice, but others might say it’s gaslights. I was hoping to try and snap at least one photo while I’m down here.“
Notes: Upon further inspection of the Linville Gorge, its minerals, the river that runs through it, and the surrounding area, it has been concluded that there has never been a swamp environment or the chemicals necessary to produce gaslights in the area.
Interviewer: Dr. Atticus Rune
Date: 08/03/1975
Foreword: The following are statements given by willing patrons of The Hub — a local restaurant off the Blue Ridge Parkway — in conversations about the lights.
“It’s probably just a mirage or optical illusion. My dad is always arguing with my grandma that they were never real. Just train lights on the hills. Lots of people seem to agree with him.”
“The lights are nothing but a remnant of the way yokels in the 1910s got riled up by electricity. It’s been a good tourism scheme for the area, though, I’ll give them that.”
“I’m only just learning about them now that we’re at the park. It’s a neat bit of folklore, but probably isn’t anything actually supernatural. You know how people can be.”
“No one’s really sure what they are, but I think science’ll catch up to em, one day. Only a matter of time.”
The bartender interjected: “I sure hope not. Science is great n’ all, but every time something is discovered, a little bit of magic dies. Let the hills keep her secrets, for once.”
Notes: Due to the restaurant’s close proximity to Pisgah Natural Forest’s entrance, the interviewed patrons were mostly tourists.
Interviewer: Dr. Atticus Rune
Date: 08/03/1975
Foreword: A photographer took notice of Dr. Hargroves struggling to set up her cameras correctly. He asked if she was here for the lights.
“It really is its own culture, up here. Getting the pictures, I mean. They’re pretty unmistakable when you see them. If you do, you’ll know. Ain’t no train lights, foxfire, or whatever else people wanna say it is. I didn’t sit out here in the snow at 4 AM on Christmas Day trying to take pictures for nothin'. I’ve been called a dumb hillbilly cuz people think we don’t know what we’re talking about, but they’re wrong. If they wanna say they’re fake, let ‘em. More for us."
Notes: Dr. Hargroves, aided by the interviewee, placed cameras in optimal locations for capturing footage of the lights.
Interviewer: Dr. Atticus Rune
Date: 08/03/1975
Foreword: Interview held at the residence of a nearby historian and author of a book Rune read on the area during research. When shown the photos taken in Kentucky, she said the following.
“You know, I’ve lived here all my life and only seen 'em for sure about five times. Five. And I’m not exactly the picture of youth, so that oughta tell you how illusive the lights can be. Most folks coming to see them don’t think about that. They’re not an every night thing. When you see 'em, you see them. Absolutely no bones about it. But they’re rare. So, you best believe when I tell you that y’all got real lucky with those. Especially during a storm.
The way they’re all in pairs is neat. Eerie, even. Looks like the sky has its eyes on y’all.
No matter what you believe in, you can’t deny that there’s something out there.”
Notes: Many folders, documents, and rare photos accumulated over generations of recording the area and its stories were shown and offered to Rune. Most of them pertained to the Wiseman family and their part in spreading stories of the lights. Rune took copies of the photos, but declined taking any originals. Rune reported feeling unsettled by the meeting.
Interviewer: Dr. Atticus Rune
Date: 08/03/1975
Foreword: The following was a story told to Dr. Rune at a gas station by one of its employees. Rune had offhandedly mentioned the lights, catching the interviewee’s interest.
“My Nana always said the gorge was crawling with haints when I was little. She spun tales about wars, bloodshed, and the battle slain souls cursed to roam forever. My younger self thought she was trying to scare me away from the gorge, and apparently he took that as a challenge. I snuck into the park one autumn day to explore and nearly got my head blown off. Hunters mistook me for a deer and stopped just in time. I thought my Ma was gonna raise hell on my skin for that stunt. Instead, she sat me down and told me a story.
Way back then, there was a woman named Lady Adeline. Her and her husband moved to North Carolina around 1840. She was a light in the dark— always kind, understanding, and polite. The townsfolk took to her like a moth to flame, but the same could not be said for her husband. He was a drunkard who laid hands on her, and the whole town knew she was too good for him. They worried after her, but Lady Adeline was convinced she could change him for the better.
A shame it didn’t work out that way.
One Sunday, Adeline was missing from church, and that was unlike her. Concerned, some friends went looking for her only to find her husband drunk as a dog. He moaned and groaned that she’d left him and taken off into the night.
If Adeline missing church was suspicious, then this definitely wasn’t right. The townspeople would sooner do a full scale search than believe Adeline would up and leave in the dead of night. They searched Linville Gorge into the night. That’s when Brown Mountain Lights appeared for the first time. They hissed and crackled with such hate and anger that the searchers were convinced Adeline’s husband conjured the devil. They stormed his home, but the drunkard had vanished without a trace. Some say that they saw the devil light leave the house and climb over a hill, leaving the scene of her crime. Chances are, she got her revenge. Many men went missing, but no bodies were ever found.
Her spirit still travels the gorge by night, searching for her missing head in the dark. Looking to hack the heads off cruel men like her husband had done to her.
The story worked like a charm; scared the pants off me. I never snuck off again. I’ve never seen her myself, and I plan to keep it that way.
That doesn’t mean she ain’t out there, though. You said you’re headed up to camp at Wiseman’s view? A young man like you oughta be careful up there. Especially at night. Lady Adeline might only be hunting the heads of evil men, but you gotta remember; she hasn’t got the best eyesight."
Notes: None.
Interviewer: Dr. Fate Hargroves
Date: 08/03/1975
Foreword: The following are miscellaneous statements on the lights collected by Dr. Hargroves while scoping out a camping spot at Wiseman’s view.
“I heard that there was a revolutionary war soldier who had a house up here, once. It was built for his wife and three kids, but he was called to war. He said his goodbyes to his family, not knowing that these would be their last. When he returned from a year of nonstop fighting, it was all gone. The house he made for his family was destroyed. The wood was seared, the walls obliterated as if God came down and personally struck them down.
The soldier wailed, scrambling for answers in the rubble of his home. All he found were remains. He cried as he struggled to piece his family back together. What he’d pieced back together was a demented puzzle of torn bone and decay. Hands attached to legs, heads on top of spines. His wife and kid’s bodies were asunder by months of weather and hungry animals. Guilt rocked the soldier as he realized that he couldn’t recognize them all, but he could recognize one thing: He had six arms, six legs, and three heads. His wife and two children.
There was one child missing.
The soldier cried in joy and agony at once. He clung to any hope he could, and that hope was to find his missing child alive. It was a quest that he’d take to his grave and then some.
Some say the Soldier’s ghost still scours the gorge, leaving a trail of light behind him in the hope that his lost child will follow it home to him. If you listen close, you can hear him wailing their name on the wind.”
“When I was small, I got lost in the gorge. My father and brothers were hunting, and I wanted to watch, but I managed to wander just enough to lose them. I searched high and low for them until my feet blistered and the sun began setting. I started sobbing cuz I started thinking I’d die alone there. Then, in the glow of twilight, strange floating orbs appeared. Bobbing up and down, the ghost lights started leading me down a path. Sure enough, there were my Pa and brother, searching for me.
I went back the next day without an ounce of fear. I knew I had someone upstairs looking out for me.”
Notes: Patterns of class and geological divides make themselves more apparent. Local populations lean toward superstition, but are often dismissed by outsiders with biases against the locals. It’s no coincidence that the Appalachians are the poorest region in the country.
On 19/03/1975, the team camped at Wiseman’s View itself. The following recording was made by Dr. Rune as they sat out after dark in an attempt to once again witness the phenomenon.
Archived Recording
Date: 29/03/1975
Personnel Present: Dr. Hellen Gibbs, Dr. Fate Hargroves, Dr. Atticus Rune
The camera is set on a tripod with a clear view of Table Rock on the other side of the gorge. Rune, Hargroves, and Gibbs can be seen sitting side by side from behind, the camera back far enough to catch them in frame without blocking the view. Twenty-five minutes into the recording, balls of light emerge and float along the other side of the gorge. The team watches them like shooting stars.
Dr. Gibbs: I guess we got lucky.
Dr. Rune: They’re beautiful, really.
Dr. Hargroves lays back on the grass.
Dr. Hargroves: Hah! You wouldn’t think so, by the stories people tell about em. I got a whole earful about ghosts, murders, and missing men.
Dr. Gibbs: They frightened me back in Kentucky. Now, not so much.
Dr. Rune: The ghost stories don’t make em less of a wonder.
Dr. Rune shrugs.
Dr. Rune: Besides, not all of ‘em are scary.
Dr. Gibbs: Oh?
Dr. Hargroves: Did you hold out on us? Stow a secret tale away?
Hargroves elbows Rune’s leg. He weakly shoves her back, rolling his eyes with a scoff.
Dr. Rune: In my brain, maybe.
Dr. Rune exhales and leans back.
Dr. Rune: The story of the lights that my Ma always told was nice.
Dr Gibbs: How does it go?
Dr. Rune takes a deep breath, sitting up.
Dr. Rune: It’s been a long time since I heard it, but… hundreds of years before any settlers came, the Cherokee and Catawba were at war. The gorge was a coveted spot, and the two tribes that lived on either side of it fought ferociously over the land. The battles were bloody, and tension rose like smoke from either side of the gorge.
Dr. Gibbs and Dr. Hargroves are listening contently, their eyes on Rune while he gazes up at the lights.
Dr. Rune: Not everyone wanted to fight, though. When the sun would set and the moon would climb high, a Cherokee man and a Catawba woman would carefully slip down into the gorge under the cover of night. The river running through the gorge’s heart was their secret meeting place. The two were hopelessly in love, but the war between their peoples kept them apart. Neither tribe could know. War could not taint the happy memories they made by the river.
Dr. Rune pauses.
Dr. Rune: One day, the man came to the river with bad news. He was called to fight in the war, and he wouldn’t be able to see the woman anymore. They spent their last night in a solemn embrace, and when they parted ways, the Catawba woman promised that her love for him would burn bright no matter where he was.
Dr. Rune: The woman meant what she’d said. She built a hut on her side of the gorge, and each night she would light a torch in hopes that her love would see it across the mountaintops and know he was loved. Eventually, the Cherokee man began to light a torch back on the other end of the gorge, and the woman would know that he was still alive.
Dr. Rune: It went like that for years and years, until, one winter, the man’s torch stopped lighting back. Maybe he died. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he fell in battle, or maybe he fell and split his head. Whatever the case, the Catawba woman could never know. Animosity still sizzled between their peoples.
Dr. Rune: Still, the Catawba woman lit the torch every night. She never stopped, even as her skin drew tight and her hair grew grey. Not even death could stop her. She still burns brighter than ever in the sky, reunited with her lover. You can see them dancing together in the sky, falling into the gorge like shooting stars, back to their old meeting spot.
Dr. Rune: That’ll always be what the lights are to me, at least.
Silence on recording.
Hargroves: That… actually is nice.
Dr. Gibbs: It’s sweet.
Gibbs hums, cozying into her sleeping bag.
Dr. Gibbs: A breath of fresh air from the others you’ve told me today.
Rune and Hargroves chuckle.
Dr. Gibbs: I’m no folklorist, but I think that one’s my favorite.
Dr. Hargroves: Yeah?
Dr. Gibbs: I’m a sucker for a legend of love. Hate and fear are overrated.
Dr. Rune yawns and lies back, to look up at the stars.
Dr. Rune: I dunno. We got enough demons here. It pays to think that there are angels, too.
Still from footage.
VI. HEAVEN
The team arrived in South Carolina on 26/03/1975. In addition to continuing to gather geological samples for continued Akiva mapping, Drs. Hargroves and Rune continued efforts in gathering information relating to local folklore. They gained insight in regards to:
- Various tales revolving around animals referred to as "Wampus";
- A reptilian creature that allegedly inhabited Ore Swamp, South Carolina;
- Expected mention of already documented "Sasquatch";
- The "Grey Man," an apparition that haunts the coast and warns of hurricanes.
Attached is a transcription by Dr. Rune, detailing a resident's sighting of an anomalous event within Table's Rock State Park.
"There's this clearing that I frequent, it's good for game. Some maple and river birch part to show open grass right by a little crick, tucked away. The deer tend to gather there to graze. It's a spot I frequent for tracking.
Now, I've seen sick deer. Typically, I try to put 'em down. Culling helps keep the sickness away. But something about this one made me hesitate, while staring along the barrel. Neck was limp in such a way it looked like its head was on upside-down. I lowered the gun. Watched it just… eat.
Sat there for a few minutes, almost mesmerized by its movements. Its antlers dragged against the dirt, carved lines into it as it grazed.
A mountain lion came lunging out of the birch. I didn't even hear the damn thing, and the deer sure as hell didn't either 'til the cat was on it.
The strangest thing is that it didn't run. That deer stood its ground.
It slammed its antlers into the cougar, head still upside down, tried to scour the things' pelt. It howled like a dying man as the cat shrieked in tandem. Fangs to throat, the cat made quick work despite the thing's apparent bravery. It shuddered once then went still, and the cougar began to eat its kill.
Was about to turn and sneak away, until the cat started pawing at the mouth of the carcass. It had pulled its bloodied head from the deer's belly, and was now working its jaws open.
I watched that cougar pluck out the deer's teeth with its own. I don't even know how it was able to be so precise with its maw, but I sat and I watched as it tore them out one by one and laid them in the dirt. It gouged the skull until the eyes were torn from their sockets.
A halo of teeth, eyes in the center."
Dr. Gibbs: Those damn deer again. And… something else?
Dr. Rune: I believe with certainty that there's more gods in these mountains than 8446. While you've been sampling the rock, we've been sampling any oddities we find in the woods.
Dr. Hargroves: We should pool our other observations. Perhaps we can find something out there with a united domain — something that covers what we've been finding out here.
Dr. Rune: Lay down the deific finds from previous sites, see if there's a through-line?
Dr. Hargroves: Exactly.
Dr. Rune: I still think it's bold to assume it's just one behind all this.
VII. HELL
On 26/03/1975, the expedition team set temporary camp along the Appalachian Trail within Georgia, both to examine the region and to organize previously noted locations throughout the expedition. These locations were sampled and analyzed for Akiva readings within an isolated scale and analyzed by Dr. Hargroves for the possible deific domains based on the surrounding context and symbology of their discovery.
LOCATION: A 12-acre stand of ash trees, all of identical height and thickness, despite varying visible age. Local land records show repeated deforestation over the last century; tree growth has reestablished itself identically each time. No planting activity has been registered.
AKIVA SAMPLE: A strip of bark with a centiAkiva of 14.
DEIFIC TIES: Growth, perseverance.
LOCATION: An abandoned church located in the outskirts of Greensboro. Located in the center of the church is a pit of unknown depth. Team reported the smell of milk coming from an unknown source.
AKIVA SAMPLE: Tattered papers with a centiAkiva of 31.
DEIFIC TIES: Unknown.
Dr. Rune: I keep seeing black flecks in the rocks around these places. Hellen, is it that coal?
Dr. Gibbs: I believe so. I was sampling from those stones while you two were looking inside.
Dr. Rune: We sometimes find the dust spread on things, too. The church had it smeared on the pulpit.
Dr. Hargroves: It's difficult to discern if it's a ritual tool, or a side-effect.
Dr. Gibbs: It could be both? But judging by the nature of -A, it might be akin to a fingerprint? Like… a trace.
Dr. Rune: Where does it keep coming from, anyways? Are we even in coal country anymore?
Dr. Gibbs: We haven't been in coal country since Tennessee.
LOCATION: A birch wood hunting blind located within Buncombe County. Inside is the carcass of an Equus caballas. Readings persist despite significant rot; rubble and overgrowth samples contained identical values.
AKIVA SAMPLE: A wooden board with a centiAkiva of 23.
DEIFIC TIES: Birch trees, animal hunting.
LOCATION: A clearing located within Ottawa National Forest. Inside of the clearing is a collection of fifty disembodied human hands. Though these hands are genetically identical, they link back to no known person.
AKIVA SAMPLE: Blood with a centiAkiva of 55.
DEIFIC TIES: The number five.
Dr. Rune: Then where has it been coming from?
Dr. Gibbs: I have a theory, in that regards.
Dr. Hargroves: Do tell.
Dr. Gibbs: Coal is a biological deposit. It's formed when dead vegetation got buried in ancient wetlands, or swamps. Something that stops decomposition. Carbon gets trapped, it gets buried, and — for Appalachia specifically — the formation of these mountains provides the heat and pressure needed to compact it into coal.
Dr. Rune: Okay, but why are we finding coal outside of the range of these ancient swamps.
Dr. Gibbs: Because I don't think 9990-A is formed from vegetation.
Dr. Hargroves: Oh. I see.
Dr. Rune: What?
Dr. Gibbs: I think it is the remains of gods.
LOCATION: A 3-meter tall set of stairs located outside the now abandoned Orrenblight quarry. No information regarding the abandonment of the quarry nor the stairs is available. A hare is often seen perched at the stairs' peak.
AKIVA SAMPLE: A tuft of fur with the centiAkiva of 76.
DEIFIC TIES: Travel, trickery.
Dr. Hargroves: Fossilized remains, remnants, yet not a single overlap in deific domain. Nothing to indicate a source entity to have left it behind. The only throughline is location, the coal, which seems far too weak a tie. It's all just…
Dr. Gibbs: Disorganized?
Dr. Hargroves: Yes.
Dr. Rune: Like all folklore. I think you've been looking at our evidence from the wrong angle. Then perhaps there isn't a domain to overlap. What if it's not a god?
VIII. BABE
By 29/03/1975, the expedition team arrived in the final state outlined within Operation Devil's Nine Questions: Alabama. The following footage was recorded in Huggin’ Molly’s Diner, a location named after a regional cryptid.
Archived Recording
Date: 08/03/1975
Personnel Present: Dr. Hellen Gibbs, Dr. Fate Hargroves, Dr. Atticus Rune
It is the break of dawn. Judging by the view from Dr. Rune's camcorder, the diner is empty with the exception of the team.
Dr. Gibbs: Any luck?
Dr. Hargroves pulls out a sprawl of papers profiling local cryptids, puts her head in her hands, and groans, rubbing at her face.
File upload.
Dr. Hargroves: No. Just as before in the other states, there's no real consistency.
Dr. Rune: You’re still hung up on that?
Dr. Hargroves sighs. Gibbs bites her lip and sits up straight.
Dr. Gibbs: Right. You have something on your mind. Shoot.
Dr. Rune nods, exhales, then starts to speak.
Dr. Rune: This region has been a hotbed for forever, now. Hell, we’ve barely touched the fact that these mountains used to be connected to the damn Scottish highlands—
Dr. Gibbs: Oh my god, that entirely escaped me.
Dr. Rune: —and we all know that’s its own damn can of worms. The Irish and Scots brought their religions. Root work and other practices to do with African tradition. The Cherokee, Shawnee, Susquehannock, and all other tribes of the area have varying deities and spirits with more marked differences than similarities. Lord knows the untold scores of beliefs that faded into the dark. These hills are older than bone. What if all of them left their pieces here, and that’s what we’re picking up on?
Dr. Hargroves: That instead of one source, it's everything?
Dr. Rune: Yeah.
Dr. Hargroves sits back, and speaks slowly.
Dr. Hargroves: …I hate that that makes sense. [She pauses] It's almost beautiful. Almost.
She sifts through the papers, eyes growing wide.
Dr. Hargroves: It's not that we've been finding aberrant shards of something massive, it's been a massive amount of pieces of aberrant gods.
Dr. Gibbs: The mountains didn't achieve apotheosis.
Dr. Rune: But countless other things have.
Dr. Hargroves: And we call it Akiva radiation for a reason. The Appalachian mountains are irradiated by it all. All the activity.
Dr. Gibbs: Jesus Christ — so that confirms our thoughts on -A, doesn't it? The akivite coal.
Dr. Hargroves nods.
Dr. Hargroves: The corpses of gods.
Dr. Gibbs: And these samples are millions of years old.
Dr. Hargroves: The mountains are too, are they not? It is more than just man that can birth gods.
Dr. Rune: I mean— y’all saw that deer back at Tennessee just as well as I did. These are murky waters we’ve been treading.
Dr. Rune glances to Hargroves. He comes just shy of pinching the fingers of his left hand together.
Dr. Rune: Especially on our end. You 'n’ I both know we ain’t gonna be able to put labels on everything here.
Dr. Hargroves: It’d be a never ending goose chase with no results.
Dr. Gibbs: Then perhaps we don't. These mountains rival the Foundation's power in containment. Its effects are so wide, so ingrained. We are on grounds not meant for man.
Dr. Hargroves: SCP-9990 actively cloaks anything deific. A veil within our Veil. There's no god-hunting if you cannot track. There is only unknowningly walking into the maw of monsters.
Dr. Gibbs is tense.
Dr. Hargroves: We don't know how many are even out there.
There is a pause. Dr. Rune exhales.
Dr. Rune: And we never will.
IX. THE DEVIL
On 02/04/1975, while the expedition team was in the process of returning to Site-898 in Pennsylvania, an additional discovery was made by Site-898 staff within a national forest neighboring the Site. As a result, the Devil's Nine Questions team altered their course so as to arrive at the Location of Interest and aid the investigation.
Below is Dr. Hargroves' statement on the findings in World's End State Park, and of Operation Devil's Nine Questions research on SCP-9990 as a whole.
World's End, Journey's End
Nine answers to nine questions, written by Dr. Fate Hargroves
When we started this operation, we believed that there might be a single source to SCP-9990. That perhaps the very mountains were some grand, slumbering god that we all have been treading upon. But science is rarely so simple — gods are rarely so simple, so straightforward. While we were searching for some all-encompassing source, we instead only found a tangled web of fragments. Pieces of puzzles that do not match, but are all built of the same wood.
We found that SCP-9990 is no god.
SCP-9990 is countless gods.
It is the collective remnants of millions of years' worth of deific existence. Ancient things lived here, apotheosized here, faded away here. Their very remains have been fossilized, coalified, and the energies that ooze from their bones have left an imprint on Appalachia itself. Shaping the mountains, the wildlife, the people.
Which is why we believe that SCP-9990 is uncontainable. Its effects, now that we know them in full, are widespread and deeply entrenched to the region. There is no feasible way to find what is hiding out there, no feasible way to track down every folkloric beast, and no feasible way to obscure the geological inconsistencies that lie within a mountain range so large.
Which is why we propose that — to handle it — we simply let it lie. The folk tales and legends do our job for us in preserving the Veil. The geological effects may be trickier, but that can be workshopped. We cannot hunt down the gods of these hollers, for we will never know just how many of them there are, with SCP-9990 cloaking them.
Which leads us to the final discovery.
World's End State Park is, as I've learned, an inside joke at Site-898. Bearing a name like that since the 1800s, for reasons that no one knows, it's always joked that there's something wrong with those sprawling mountains and forests that lie just beyond our own game lands.
I suppose that someone on staff had decided to humor the rumor and do some hiking. Do some digging. And thus, the final piece of evidence that has been classified under Operation Devil's Nine Questions was unearthed. A carved piece of stone, entrenched in warning.
A warning that I, in light of our knowledge of what SCP-9990 truly is, believe that we should heed.
World's End State Park Inscription
Origin unknown. Original language unknown.
Cognitohazardous effect results in the reader perceiving the carving in their native language.
In the beginning, there was naught but the blood of man.
We huddled in our dwelling with little more than stone and dedication like no other.
Outside was the sound of rumbling. The sound of cascading thunder with clear blue skies. The rumbling of a distant madness. During the day, we were safe. We felt the watching eye of God peer down. Or perhaps it was more. Perhaps it was akin to a starving mountain lion watching a sickly deer.
We kept living as we could. We continued to feed. We continued to breed.
And we continued to grow, growing in the expanse of something greater. Maybe it was curious, at first, so we assumed, believing we would die out in a few generations.
But man does not wither easily. We pressed deeper, burrowing into the marrow of the mountains, trespassing upon lands where none were meant to walk.
We built our own Tower of Babel, we built our own towns, cities, and our own idols. We widened the wound. We cut into the flesh of earth, and in cutting, we remembered what had been buried.
We were ticks. We continued to suck the blood out, and were too fat and full to truly perceive the hand turning us into a fine paste. We were lucky we only managed to feel the wrath of a sleeping God turning in its slumber, annoyed at some mere insects crawling on its face.
What was minor for it, turned into only a handful of us left.
There are many more eyes glancing upon you than one might imagine. There are many sets of hands and pairs of feet that have trampled here, and none of them are like you and I.
You feel it. That cold sense of being watched when you walk these woods, when your boot strikes the ridge.
Ribs of stone, flesh turned to basalt, the cracked helms of elders. Dozens of names, dozens of corpses, all lay in layers. Where they fell, a hungry newness crawled forth.
For what eats the corpses of elders has patience. What is patient learns to wait for the hands that open the wound.