fragment:9000contestsevencix-1

Link to article: fragment:9000contestsevencix-1.

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-----

[[=]]
+ Document 4: Delta Pillar
[[/=]]
[[div class="blockquote cinzel-decorative-regular" style="background-color: #29455c; text-shadow: 2px 2px #000000; border-color: #162633; border-width: 5px"]]
My fellowship has been slaughtered.

The stars came down upon us. The locals called it a beautiful gift from the gods given to them every generation.

I think it an unnatural phenomena. A mere coincidence, like a tree falling upon a slave. A complete injustice from the very atom of cosmos.

It is hard to not be filled with vile hatred. Every time I see the night sky, I see those pillars of pale light fall upon us like a barrage of spears. I hear those pierced throats and lungs unable to formulate word and simply spewing blood. I hear those whimpers before they are sent to the Beyond. I see injust death.

It disturbs me. //**Sickening**//.

I know now that the magic I've learned over the past twelve years can make the world yield to my will. I know that hatred has power. I know souls have power. I have ten dozens restless souls.

This is a matter that is grave and requires consideration. I will return to Rome and study the points of magic in this world. I will hopefully regain sanity.

If I do no such thing, perhaps this is my purpose.

Perhaps I must repair the fundamental structure that holds our world together.

Perhaps I must rage.

**-Contranumen**
[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum 9070-4-1:** O5-12's message from Manaus, Brazil
[[/=]]

[[=]]
+++* 7 DAYS, 13 HOURS AND 58 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070
[[/=]]

-----

[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] arrived in Manaus, Brazil after a prolonged period of absence from his position in the Foundation. He acted independantly with his actions only being known by the O5 Council as of this addendum. [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]'s conduct has been reported to the Administrator, who is currently deliberating on potential disciplinary measures. 

[[div class="file-class" style="background-color: #000000;color: #adadad;text-shadow: 2px 2px 5px #211d29;border: 3px outset #ffffff; padding: 15px; margin-bottom: 10px"]]

**FOREWORD:** Recorded through a hidden camera in [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]'s suit.

-----

//<The recording starts, showing [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] looking into the mirror of a public restroom. He adjusts his suit and tie and clears his throat. He then smiles to the camera. In one of the closed stalls behind him, a woman's feet pooled in blood is visible. A drip of blood falls into the puddle at a rhythmic frequency.>//

[[=image Official_portrait_of_Lord_Bird_crop_2.jpg size="small"]]
[[div style="margin-top: -20px"]]
[[=]]
^^//[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]], 2025.//^^
[[/=]]
[[/div]]

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Hello, good friends! I do apologize for my absence, I had a bit of business to settle with the devi-- ex-wife!

//<[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] winks into the camera and checks his teeth. He continues speaking through them.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** I'm in Brazil! Checked the files, saw you were in a pinch! I'll see if I can't dislodge you from that, now that you're so busy with Italy, India, Antarctica, Senegal even! I'm on my way to meet the local, well--

//<[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] pouts exaggeratedly while bobbing his head.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** --local opposition! I'll be bringing you along for the trip! I need to share the moment I get the drop on these Insurgency goons, I know you'll find it quite entertaining as well!

//<[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] tilts his head around to inspect his face from several angles. He then grins and chuckles.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** You're going to love this! I've been working on it for a few days! See you in the action.

<END LOG>

[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum SCP-9070-4-2:** Excerpt on thaumaturgic equipment
[[/=]]

The following is a blogpost made on "uMagicca", a Three Portlands-based social media platform which requires a certain level of mana signature in order to register an account. It has faced critique due to becoming an increasingly exclusive site with the mana threshold required for registering increasing frequently. The Foundation has only one account left which has been banned for 5 years, thus making it an inaccessible space for researchers and intelligence agents.

[[div class="blockquote libre-baskerville-regular" style="background-color: #070224; color: #9F88BF; border-color: #D6F6DD; border-style: solid; border-width: 6px; border-radius: 8px; text-shadow: 1px 1px #1B097F"]]
[[span style="font-size: 50px; color: #EFA00B; text-shadow: 2px 2px #000000"]]**Wands and War**[[/span]]
[[span style="font-size: 20px; margin-top 2px; color: #EFA00B; text-shadow: 2px 2px #000000"]]**@@/@@TheJASter@@/@@**[[/span]]
[[span style="font-size: 20px; margin-top 2px; color: #EFA00B; text-shadow: 2px 2px #000000"]]^^03/03/12 19:57^^[[/span]]

At this point, I assume you know the basic rules of spell-combat. Do not waste energy. This is the conclusion of my famed paper on using the arcane in modern combat, which a certain //moron//-- you know who-- assumes I stole from them. I didn't, every idiot would've reached the same conclusion, it's been a basic rule in all other kinds of activities. Sports, war and artistry. This //imbecile// will also tell you that there are only very limited ways to not waste energy.

They are also wrong on this.

Magic remains //magic//. It is said there is a spell discipline for every 5 magic users in the world, though while it may be exaggerated, it is very true that it is hard to make generalized, broad rules for all of magekind. Let's take my signature discipline famous for its combat application; dual wielding wands.

One might imagine that this is a fool's errand. It is but an errand. But a fool's errand if you're a fool. There is an extremely simple reason for why I use two wands, and that is //utility//. Many young wizards who tend towards controlled spells are afraid to let their talented variety out in combat, for good reason. One needs to return fire, quite literally, they also need to charge their defensive capacities.

Now, my double wand reason remains this: If it is hard to break a caster's shield anyways, why spend too much energy on attacking? Use what's necessary and not a bit more, then charge your own shield with the rest. And when the shield is charged? What do you then do with your surplus power? Utility.

One wand to attack. One wand to bend the rules. You shouldn't overcharge your shield more than necessary, since that goes against the first rule: Do. Not. Waste. Energy. Use your creative flair from the safety of your shield and the coverfire of your primary wand.

Now, if it was that easy, surely a lot of people would be as good as me in a wandslinger shootout. You will note that this isn't the case, given my continued capacity for drawing breath.

Like most other things, using two hands at the same time can be difficult, especially with incantations and gestures. This will require practice, like all magic. Though if you dedicate yourself to it, you will discover that combat opens up to a whole plethora of new ways to kick jailers' shins and asses.

Try it out. Don't waste the fantastical on the boring in this bleak, grey world!

/TheJASter/

[[div style="text-align: right"]]
**Spell** (+53) -- **Dispel** (-41) -- **Incant** (249) -- **Report** (!)
[[/div]]
[[div class="blockquote almendra-regular" style="background-color: #141C38; color: #EFA00B; text-shadow: 2px 2px #000000"]]
[[=]]
[[div style="font-size: 30px; margin-bottom: -50px; margin-top: -10px"]]
I•N•C•A•N•T•A•T•I•O•N•S
[[/div]]
[[/=]]
**B!SHW!SH**
^^03/03/12 20:01^^
[[div class="blockquote libre-baskerville-regular" style="background-color: #0A041D; color: #9F88BF; border-color: #D6F6DD; border-style: solid; border-width: 2px; border-radius: 8px; text-shadow: 1px 1px #1B097F; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 30px"]]
A lot of people seem to doubt this, but I think this is surprisingly applicable. I'll report back if I don't manage to blow myself up with my academy wand LOL
[[div style="text-align: right"]]
**Spell** (+7) -- **Dispel** (-2) -- **Report** (!)
[[/div]]
[[/div]]

**ProfDocSgt**
^^03/03/12 20:06^^
[[div class="blockquote libre-baskerville-regular" style="background-color: #0A041D; color: #9F88BF; border-color: #D6F6DD; border-style: solid; border-width: 2px; border-radius: 8px; text-shadow: 1px 1px #1B097F; margin-top: -15px; margin-bottom: 30px"]]
loool another mage larper :/ grow up dude
[[div style="text-align: right"]]
**Spell** (+26) -- **Dispel** (-5) -- **Report** (!)
[[/div]]
[[/div]]

**DRCLFCKR**
^^03/03/12 20:07^^
[[div class="blockquote libre-baskerville-regular" style="background-color: #0A041D; color: #9F88BF; border-color: #D6F6DD; border-style: solid; border-width: 2px; border-radius: 8px; text-shadow: 1px 1px #1B097F; margin-top: -15px; margin-bottom: 0px"]]
quill yourself
[[div style="text-align: right"]]
**Spell** (+13) -- **Dispel** (-21) -- **Report** (!)
[[/div]]
[[/div]]
...
[[/div]]
[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum SCP-9070-4-3:** Interrogation of Adaline Carpenter
[[/=]]
[[=]]
+++* 7 DAYS, 15 HOURS AND 47 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070
[[/=]]

Following Carpenter's capture, Agent Nunya of Alpha-25 "Shadow Wizards M.G." begun an interrogation by order of [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]. Due to extraordinary circumstances, enhanced methods of interrogation were permitted to extract knowledge of the Children of the Scarlet King's movements in Dakar. Due to the methodology involved, this addendum is not available to personnel with a clearance of 3 or below.

-----

[[div class="file-class" style="background-color: #273043;color: #E1F1FD;border: 3px double #CC2936; padding:15px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]

[[=image Vue de nuit- ville de Dakar.jpg size="medium"]]
[[div style="margin-top: -20px"]]
[[=]]
^^//Dakar, Senegal.//^^
[[/=]]
[[/div]]

**FOREWORD:** Interrogation takes place in a safehouse noticed in the Sacré-Cœur district of Dakar. The footage is recorded on a camcorder placed on a tripod.

-----

**<BEGIN LOG>**

//<Carpenter is tied to a foldable chair with her wrists tied behind the back of the chair and her ankles tied to the legs. Her skin is caked in dried blood and saliva, obscuring the thaumaturgic runes that run down the sides of her arms and legs. Her clothes and gauntlets have been tossed into the corner of the one-room safehouse with a kitchenette, mattress and toilet without running water in the corner.>//

**Carpenter:** How am I supposed to take a piss again?

**Nunya:** I don't care. That's not in my priorities. If you'd tell us of your cult's hideo--

**Carpenter:** Society.

**Nunya:** ... Society's hideout, why I reckon you can take all the piss you want, Carpenter.

**Carpenter:** Sorry, Jailer. I am going to need a bit more from that exch--

//<Nunya punches Carpenter in the stomach, causing her to temporarily lose consciousness. She regains consciousness while retching and coughing.>//

**Nunya:** Sorry. I'm not permitted to negotiate with the doomsday cult.

//<Carpenter takes a few short breaths and spits to her left.>//

//Carpenter:// My blood hurts more than your fist.

**Nunya:** Ah, the tough act. Well, let's switch up gears then, no? What's a little, American girl like you doing in Senegal? Are you a charitable soul?

//<Carpenter breathes raggedly and wrinkles her nose. She forces her eyes shut for a second before opening them.>//

**Carpenter:** Sacramento got stale, you know? Too many unmarked vans and shitstains driving th--

//<Nunya punches Carpenter in the stomach again, causing her to crumble over with a pained groan.>//

**Carpenter:** Sh-- same-- spot?

**Nunya:** I'm very good at my work, Miss Carpenter.

//<Carpenter grins as she breathes with difficulty.>//

**Carpenter:** Is that why you're stuck with me instead of doing actu--

//<Nunya stands up and kicks Carpenter in the stomach, causing her to fall on her back. She lets out a few pained sobs and clenches her fists. She lets out a weak laughter after regaining her composure.>//

**Carpenter:** H-hit a nerve, d-did I?

**Nunya:** Alright, I'm going to level with you here, cult-whore. I don't have time for your shit. Tell me something usable or shut the fuck up, alright?

//<Carpenter smiles. She is missing five teeth.>//

**Carpenter:** I c-can tell you so-something usef-ful, yeah.

//<Carpenter takes a deep breath. Nunya looms over her with clenched fists.>//

**Carpenter:** A curse-- is empowered-- by //hate//. T-Those pillars?

//<Nunya wipes his face with a clenched fist. His nose appears to be bleeding, though he doesn't pay it attention.>//

**Carpenter:** They-- are-- hate. And so... am I.

//<Carpenter inhales sharply, presumably due to the fractures in her ribcage.>//

**Carpenter:** And the second thing-- I can tell you...

//<Carpenter looks into Nunya's eyes. The latter starts swaying.>//

**Carpenter:** This-- is the closest thing you'll-- experience...

//<Nunya stumbles.>//

**Carpenter:** To laying a finger--...

//<Nunya starts trying to blink rapidly.>//

**Carpenter:** On a-- woman--...

//<Nunya is about to keel over before he makes a gesture with his hands, causing him to fade into shadows and disappearing from view.>//

**Carpenter:** Not-- completely useless, are you?!

//<Carpenter grits her remaining teeth and clenches her fists. The rope around her wrists starts tearing apart. It gains a red outline. After roughly 3 seconds, it breaks apart.>//

//<Carpenter makes a gesture with her hands and starts chanting with a growl. The rope around her ankles start to break apart, but she is interrupted by Nunya reappearing in a cloud of smoke behind her. He is armed with a knife, which he tries to slit Carpenter's throat with. Carpenter manages to cant her head so that the knife creates a laceration from her jaw to her right cheek.>//

**Nunya:** Persistent bitch, ain't you?!

//<Carpenter cringes her hands into another gesture. Nunya starts stumbling backwards and turns into a cloud of black smoke again.>//

**Carpenter:** Bit of a bitch yourself, aren't you?! Don't even have my handwear!

//<Carpenter repeats the gesture and breaks apart the rope keeping her legs tied to the chair's. She stands and takes a step towards her clothes. She collapses with a pained gasp and places her hand on the top of her abdomen and inhales raggedly. She starts crawling towards her belongings in the corner.>//

**Carpenter:** Fucking-- ribs!

//<As Carpenter's hand approaches one of the thaumaturgic metal gauntlets on the top of her clothes, Nunya appears again with the knife. Notably, he already seems to be off-balance. He falls over and embeds the knife into Carpenter's lower back. She lets out a pained yell and slams a clenched fist into the floorboards. A red circle appears underneath Nunya and launches him into the ceiling above, leading to him crashing back down onto the floor next to Carpenter shortly after. He groans and rolls to the side.>//

//<Carpenter reaches the gauntlet. She loosely equips it and rolls on her side to face Nunya, who's stumbling to his feet.>//

//<She snaps her fingers. A red blast of energy flies towards Nunya and knocks over the tripod the recording device is on. The camcorder captures the scene horizontally. The wave disperses into a smokey orb around Nunya.>//

//<She snaps her fingers again. Another blast shakes the camera's view and causes Nunya to stumble backwards into the kitchenette. Nunya attempts to make a gesture to warp away, but his hands shake too much.//

//<She snaps her fingers once more. Nunya is slammed into the kitchenette, causing him to bend backwards and hit his head against the curtained window. He gasps for air.//

//<She snaps her fingers in rapid succession. Nunya's protective field is deteriorating steadily, he starts chanting under his breath.>//

//<She snaps her fingers and lets out a roar. Nunya runs out of breath to speak an incantation.>//

//<She snaps her fingers and lets out a pained chuckle. Nunya lets out a panicked yell.>//

//<She snaps her fingers and goes quiet. Nunya's shield shatters.>//

//<She snaps her fingers and snaps Nunya's spine.>//

//<Nunya goes limb and starts sobbing. Carpenter takes a few labored breaths. She then yells and snaps her fingers once more in rapid succession. Nunya seemingly expires after 3 blasts, his corpse is liquified after the 13th blast. The window shatters outwards and Nunya's head rolls out on the 14th blast. She keeps snapping her fingers, but is evidently incapable of producing more thaumaturgic energy.>//

**Carpenter:** How's@@--@@... How's@@--@@...

//<Carpenter smiles widely and laughs to herself for 6 seconds, before she stops with a groan of pain. She goes quiet for roughly 2 minutes before she starts sobbing. She passes out after 11 minutes.>//

**<END LOG>**

-----

**AFTERWORD:** The recording was automatically sent to [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] and Alpha-25. Agent Nunya's loss is considered acceptable due to his juniority and repeated disciplinary-worthy actions. Carpenter is assumed to expire from her injuries inevitably and thus requires no further attention.

[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum SCP-9070-4-4:** Discovery of Sgt. Thorstein Vestergaard
[[/=]]

[[=]]
+++* 7 DAYS, 15 HOURS AND 58 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070
[[/=]]

-----

Following Sgt. Vestergaard expiring from a thaumaturgic projectile seemingly of Scarlet Cult origin, a drone with the same experimental technology as the one accompanying Dr. Wrenna was dispatched to locate, and if possible accompany Sgt. Vestergaard. 

-----

[[div style="border:solid 3px; padding:15px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]
**FOREWORD:** Drone found Sgt. Vestergaard in a perpetual state of drowning. After 3 hours of observation, he washed ashore on the Saloum Delta National Park. Sgt. Vestergaard has been granted 2 vacation days as part of the Eternal (No More) Damnation policy implemented by the Ethics Committee in 2017.

**<BEGIN LOG>**

//<Sgt. Vestergaard is laying in the shrubbery on the coast, retaining no items or clothing due to his corpse's obliteration. He sighs heavily and rubs his temple. He looks around.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** That lovely tinnitus must mean you're watching me, suspiciously stealthy drone. Please confirm.

**[ATTEMPT TO TRANSMIT CONFIRMATION FAILED: NO AVAILABLE DEVICE DETECTED.]**

//<Sgt. Vestergaard narrows his eyes. He runs a finger over his left ear.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Right. No earpiece. My apologies.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard stands up on the mossy ground. He looks into the mangrove forest he washed ashore on. He starts to climb onto a steadier surface and brushes his hands off. He turns his head 90° to the right and notices a group of five humans and 16 instances of animated snake bones. The humans are wearing a mixture of green scales, hides and contemporary clothing. One of them, a middle-aged woman with decorative bones pierced through the skin of her forearms, is holding a staff with a rough diamond attached to it.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Mhm.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard slowly looks ahead again and tries to leave, but halts when the thaumaturge harshly taps the ground with her staff. He sucks his teeth and slowly turns to face them. He covers his genitals.>//

**[INDIVIDUALS PRESUMED TO BE OF FIRST PRIDE AFFILIATION. ASSIGNING 1ST-1 CODENAME. TRANSCRIPT TRANSLATED FROM WOLOF.]**

**1ST-1:** //It'd seem that the Corpse Spirit stands once more. Why are you here, Devil?//

//<Sgt. Vestergaard pouts and widens his eyes in contemplation, before bobbing his head. He points to himself with one hand.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** English.

//<1ST-1 looks to a younger woman. Said woman, 1ST-2, shrugs with exaggeration and shakes her head. 1ST-1 gestures to Sgt. Vestergaard sharply.>//

**1ST-2:** ... //Français//?

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** //Oui//. //Petit//.

**1ST-1:** //Inform him that he will meet our priest and clarify his trespassing.//

//<1ST-2 leaves her mouth slightly ajar and squints her eyes. She mouthes something under her breath, apparently deliberating on how to simplistically communicate with Sgt. Vestergaard.>//

**1ST-2:** [French] //You'll come to meet our chief//.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard smiles thinly and wrinkles his nose. He circles his free hand.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** //Non//?

//<1ST-2 purses her lips and slowly looks to 1ST-1. 1ST-1 sighs and gestures a thaumaturgic sign, causing 5 of the animated sets of snake bones to slither towards Sgt. Vestergaard. He places his face in his hands and curses something under his breath.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** //Oui//, //oui//...

//<All the snakes save one stop moving towards Sgt. Vestergaard. The remaining snake lingers behind Sgt. Vestergaard and spiritually produces a hiss. 1ST-2 puts her hands behind her back and nods to Sgt. Vestergaard, seemingly to get him to repeat the motion. He sighs deeply and does so. The snake launches itself into the air and wraps itself around Sgt. Vestergaard's wrists.>//

**1ST-1:** //Let us move. I am growing tired of outside interference//.

//<Two individuals, one armed with a compound bow and the other with a Winchester Model 70 rifle//[[footnote]] [[=image 960px-Winchestermodel70.jpg size="medium"]] [[/footnote]]//, move behind Sgt. Vestergaard and idly chat among themselves at a volume the drone does not register. 1ST-1 starts walking ahead, the the group follows her.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** //For helvede også//.

**[31 MINUTES AND 51 SECONDS CUT FOR BREVITY.]**

//<The group approaches a clearing in the mangrove forest. There's a lake in the middle which seems almost completely clear. 1ST-1 walks out onto the lake, followed by 1ST-2 and another individual. The trio turns around to look at Sgt. Vestergaard who perks his eyebrows. 1ST-2 waves him out.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Okay?

//<One of the persons behind Sgt. Vestergaard clears her throat.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Okay.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard clicks his tongue and takes a careful step onto the lake. Upon confirming he is not sinking into the water, he moves a few steps out and is followed by the two individuals behind him. 1ST-1 taps her staff against the lake, causing it to ripple. The group starts sinking and becomes invisible once past the surface. Sgt. Vestergaard sighs and packs some air in his lungs. The drone follows close by and sinks along with the group.>//

**1ST-1:** //Look at this man. Frightful of a little illusion. Maybe he is not special at all!//

**1ST-2:** //I think it special to drown, eject water from one's lungs and go back to drowning. Typically one drowns once, maybe twice if they're saved in time and tossed back in.//

**1ST-1:** //American technology, probably. Who knows what they get up to over there?//

//<The group are descending on a platform made up of bones that break and crack under the group's feet. Sgt. Vestergaard steps on a sharpened bone, causing him to curse incoherently under his breath. The circular lift they stand on is outlined by greywacke stone while the shaft seems to be made of a mixture between limestone and bones. Sgt. Vestergaard steps over a few sharp bones to look closer at the wall. The lift moves by a skull matching that of a rugops, causing Sgt. Vestergaard to slowly turn away and look at the gathering of skeletal snakes. 1ST-2 smiles to Sgt. Vestergaard and nods. Sgt. Vestergaard widens his eyes and sucks his teeth. A minute after, the lift emerges in a large chasm. Approximately 50 structures varying in size can be seen, each one of them made out of limestone, bones and roots from a mangrove tree.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Holy shit.

//<The group breaks into laughter, shortly after the woman with the rifle pats Sgt. Vestergaard on the shoulder. The lift settles into the ground, pushing away a gravel-like surface with granite, limestone and greywacke. In the distance, an elderly man wearing the skull of an unidentified genus of the dinosaur clade is approaching. His upper body is covered in scales and leathers while his lower body is covered in by skirt made of large feathers of unknown origin. He is, notably, riding upon a full skeleton of what appears to be a raptor-like dinosaur that has yet to be identified. He approaches and brings his mount to a halt in front of the group. He hops off the animated skeleton with ease. The man is designated as 1ST-3>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I really gotta start reading about Groups of Interest.

**1ST-3:** I would agree. My people are very fascinating, stranger. Are you from the Americas, per any chance?

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** ... I suppose I am, yes.

//<1ST-1 approaches 1ST-3 and whispers something into his ear. He nods repeatedly and lets out a hum. He raises both of his eyebrows and lets out a chuckle.>//

**1ST-3:** I'm told you're a Corpse Spirit.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I like to define myself moreso on my state of life. It has a terribly insistent quality to it.

**1ST-3:** How intriguing. And for what reason do you trespass on our lands?

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Shot out of the sky.

**1ST-3:** By...?

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Magic.

//<1ST-3 squints.>//

**1ST-3:** What of your belongings? You appear surprisingly unequipped for a white man.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Spread all over the West African coast, I'd imagine. They suffered the same fate as me.

**1ST-3:** I believe I know why you're here, stranger. You are here due to the Iron Tower in Dakar. The one which disrupts the rivers of magic.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Trying to prevent bad actors from getting their hands on it, yes. There are some vile people who would wield it against yours.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard looks around. He glances at a large orb in the cave ceiling that glows a weak lime-colored tint. He seems to look at how people of all ages are starting to gather around him. several animated snake bones seem to be among them.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Can I lose the snake, by the way? It's already quite a horrendous situation to be in without the bone bondage.

//<1ST-3 hisses. The snake around Sgt. Vestergaard's wrists unwraps itself and slithers off. It digs into the ground and disappears.>//

**1ST-3:** I am not quite convinced you're not one of the vile people, stranger. One must have done things of great lengths to achieve a deathless existence. Less you are a trickster spirit. Besides...

//<1ST-3 grins to Sgt. Vestergaard.>//

**1ST-3:** You've seen a home of The First Pride. You will not be departing.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard clicks his tongue. He glances at a child who's pointing and laughing at him.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I really need to, though. I don't want to leave my naïve friend to fend for himself. He's, you know, ensuring that the Coalition cannot erase all magic.

**1ST-3:** What a tall tale! You will be a great storyteller here.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I promise that it's not in your best interest to keep me here.

//<1ST-3 slowly tilts his head to the side, he eyes Sgt. Vestergaard up and down. He huffs in an amused manner.>//

**1ST-3:** You would threaten us?

//<The animated dinosaur next to 1ST-3 takes a step forth and anomalously produces a growl.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** No, I would warn you. I'm sadly of great importance to a certain organization that handles anomalies.

**1ST-3:** A-no-ma-lie-s. You are of the Jailers.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Ah, they call us that here too? Sure.

**1ST-3:** How... troubling.

//<1ST-3 turns around. He whispers to 1ST-1 and glances back at Sgt. Vestergaard. He sighs heavily.>//

**1ST-3:** You will keep our prison warm. It has not seen use in a while. We will decide your fate there.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Oh, that can't possibly be--

//<The animated dinosaur rips Sgt. Vestergaard's head off. Its tail collides with the drone, causing it to be knocked to the ground, though nobody seems to notice.>//

**[CRITICAL DAMAGE SUSTAINED. ENTERING REPAIR MODE. ENDING RECORDING.]**

**<END LOG>**

[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum SCP-9070-4-5:** Darkwatch Forums thread related to Dakar
[[/=]]

Excerpt from the Darkwatch Forums based off the Parawatch Forums with the key difference being the former is hosted on a darknet. The Foundation has limited access to these forums due to a frequent randomization of encryption keys. The distribution of new encryption keys is poorly understood.

-----

[[div class="darknetMain" style="padding: 10px"]]

[[span style="font-size: 80px; color: #B12750"]] ^^///**DARKWATCH**//^^ [[/span]]

[[div class="darknet blockquote" style="margin-top: -60px"]]

[[span style="color: #B12750; font-size: 18px"]]**WtheFAUN**[[/span]] [[span style="color: #0C8346; font-size: 12px"]]^^[OP]^^[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 12px"]] ^^31/06/25 19:03 UTC^^ [[/span]]
heyyyyyy

in dakar on a haunted location trip! anyone know anything strange around there? :)

[[/div]]

[[div class="darknet blockquote"]]

[[span style="color: #B12750; font-size: 18px"]]**EKSZEPZIONALZ**[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 12px"]] ^^31/06/25 19:08 UTC^^ [[/span]]
What state is Dakar in?

[[/div]]

[[div class="darknet blockquote"]]

[[span style="color: #B12750; font-size: 18px"]]**Warlock76**[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 12px"]] ^^31/06/25 19:11 UTC^^ [[/span]]
Dakar is like fucked rn lmao

Cult gang war or something is going on

Would advise not going anywhere at night

[[/div]]

[[div class="darknet blockquote"]]

[[span style="color: #B12750; font-size: 18px"]]**Potwizz**[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 12px"]] ^^31/06/25 19:12 UTC^^ [[/span]]
saw a lady get dragged into an alley by a masked dude don't fuck around man go further inland, plenty of cool stuff in the rest of senegal

[[/div]]


[[div class="darknet blockquote"]]

[[span style="color: #B12750; font-size: 18px"]]**EKSZEPZIONALZ**[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 12px"]] ^^31/06/25 19:13 UTC^^ [[/span]]
Oh, right. Senegal. Why would you go there, come to California instead!

Plenty of cool ghost towns here!

[[/div]]

[[div class="darknet blockquote"]]

[[span style="color: #B12750; font-size: 18px"]]**BayBlades**[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 12px"]] ^^31/06/25 19:15 UTC^^ [[/span]]
ngl forgot dakar existed :P

idk about cult wars but i know there's shamans and stuff south of dakar, went there on a trip a few years ago during covid and saw a bunch of tribals staring at us with skull staffs lol

it was so funny to see them with american clothing i wonder how they get that in africa

[[/div]]

[[div class="darknet blockquote"]]

[[span style="color: #B12750; font-size: 18px"]]**Warlock76**[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 12px"]] ^^31/06/25 19:17 UTC^^ [[/span]]
@BayBlades

so much to unpack there dude fuck off

[[/div]]

[[div class="darknet blockquote"]]

[[span style="color: #B12750; font-size: 18px"]]**BayBlades**[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 12px"]] ^^31/06/25 19:19 UTC^^ [[/span]]
@Warlock76

looooooool chill woker im just joking

[[/div]]

[[div class="darknet blockquote"]]

[[span style="color: #B12750; font-size: 18px"]]**TheJASter**[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 12px"]] ^^31/06/25 19:19 UTC^^ [[/span]]
I'm in Dakar @op, do you want to meet up?

[[/div]]

[[div class="darknet blockquote"]]

[[span style="color: #B12750; font-size: 18px"]]**WtheFAUN**[[/span]] [[span style="color: #0C8346; font-size: 12px"]]^^[OP]^^[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 12px"]] ^^31/06/25 19:22 UTC^^ [[/span]]
would love to! i'm at the Speeeeedzster Gaming Café, i hear there's a bar next door, totally meet me there :D

i'm wearing a grey shirt and jean shorts

[[/div]]

[[div class="darknet blockquote"]]

[[span style="color: #B12750; font-size: 18px"]]**TheJASter**[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 12px"]] ^^31/06/25 19:25 UTC^^ [[/span]]
I'll drop by soon.

[[/div]]

[[div class="darknet blockquote"]]

[[span style="color: #B12750; font-size: 18px"]]**Potwizz**[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 12px"]] ^^31/06/25 19:26 UTC^^ [[/span]]
bro that's a fed haha

[[/div]]

[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum SCP-9070-4-6:** O5-5 and O5-6's meeting with Karcist Bellus in Rome, Italy
[[/=]]

[[=]]
+++* 7 DAYS, 18 HOURS AND 36 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070
[[/=]]

-----

Following an invitation anomalously sent to Site-19's main entrance, [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] and [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] elected to meet with who is presumed to be Karcist Bellus. [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] and [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] are accompanied by MTF Alpha-26 "Cybercrawler Couriers", [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]'s personal MTF. Each Alpha-26 agent is armed with Marshall PDP44[[footnote]] **Relevant recording from Marshall, Carter and Dark Refuge weapons store located in Sisimiut, Greenland:**
"//The Marshall PDP44, nicknamed "Spéciale", is a favorite within our broader organization. A pistol with a 20 centimeter barrel and .44 caliber, high firepower that can punch through most of mundane body armor. Its main appeal is its Smaragd-Ember Delay Fire module built into the barrel, which delays the sound of fire for approximately three to four seconds, depending on the temperature of the environment and the warmth of its barrel. It is also compatible Jensen Flora rounds, which almost invalidates any recoil, so that the kick won't mitigate the advantage of the silent surprise. Also leaves behind a pleasant scent of lavender. I hear the Spéciale is quite beloved by the dear Insurgents, given its flair for ambushes. The green sheen it reflects in direct lighting is an effect of the delay fire module, and not at all a trick played on your eyes. With a seven round magazine, you may not get a whole lot of use out of imprecise fire, but a skilled gunman would surely be able to use it to its fullest extent.//" [[/footnote]] pistols.

[[div class="file-class" style="background-color: #000000;color: #adadad;text-shadow: 2px 2px 5px #211d29;border: 3px outset #ffffff; padding:15px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]

[[=image In_cima_al_Pantheon_di_Roma,_1975_-_On_the_top_of_the_Pantheon_in_Rome_(Italy),_1975_--_005.jpg size="medium"]]
[[div style="margin-top: -20px"]]
[[=]]
^^//Live footage from member of MTF Alpha-26 "Cybercrawler Couriers".//^^
[[/=]]
[[/div]]


**FOREWORD:** [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] and [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] are seated in a couch in Albergo ██ ██████, a 3 star hotel in the center of Italy. The hotel staff has been infiltrated and impersonated by Alpha-26.

-----

**<BEGIN LOG>**

//<[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] looks at his watch. He fidgets with his suit's buttons and glances towards the entrance.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Are you sure they're trained for this?

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** Who? My MTF? Do not worry about them. They'll perform.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] adjusts his tie. He checks the combat knife that is sheathed in it. He silently throws a glance to [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] who's dressed in a long-sleeved black dress with a hijab and satin veil with the same color. She returns an unamused expression.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** What leads you to believe that this odd karcist can even find us without communicating with us?

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** Five, I'm probably the only Nigerian woman accompanied by a Chilean man in 10 square kilometers. Assuming they have informants in the city, we'll stand out aplenty in this snowstorm of a city.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] nods his head to the side and shrugs.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Fair enough.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] squints at his watch.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Received word that Wrenna has arrived in Senegal. He's using Ten's demons quite proficiently, apparently. Lost a rather notoriously incompetent member of my MTF, however.

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** Was he discovered by any Dakar factions?

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** ... No, underestimated a thaumaturge a bit too much.

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** How mundane.

//<The revolving door turns, revealing a man in his 50s wearing a white suit and a red shirt. He walks with a limb, aided with a wooden cane. He enters the lobby and glances towards [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] and [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]. He walks closer to them and stops in front of them. He places the cane down at his side and leans on it.>//

**Bellus:** I am Karcist Bellus. I see you've chosen to accept my plea.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] and [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] exchange a glance. An MTF agent walks over to the revolving door to lock it.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** That has yet to be decided.

//<Bellus tilts his head back and nods to himself. From this angle, it becomes evident that his eyes are made of glass.>//

**Bellus:** Would you walk with me?

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** No.

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** Almost assuredly out of the question.

**Bellus:** And if your armed aides were to accompany us?

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** I'm more amendable to that. What of your own security?

**Bellus:** Unnecessary. We are but a few after bloodthirsty assaults on my people. I am my own security, although I suppose I do not stand a chance to people of your...

//<Bellus hums.>//

**Bellus:** //Perizia//.

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** GOC?

**Bellus:** I am afraid I am not wholly informed on the... broader organizations of //l'inferno// society. I know you only as Jailers.

[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]: Ah. The J-word. Perhaps it is best we maintain it as such level.

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Any details of note?

//<Bellus exhales. He moves to sit on the couch, causing one of the MTF agents to unsheath their pistol. [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] clicks her tongue in a high pitched frequency that mundane human perception cannot detect. The agent hides their pistol again and nods. Bellus uses his cane to scratch his temple after he has sat down.>//

**Bellus:** I suppose I can differentiate between three distinct groups that have made moves against us. Missionaires from the Vatican, soldiers with blue armbands and heretical cultists in red robes.

**05-5:** ... Ah. Curious.

**Bellus:** They often cooperated, Vatican soldiers storming ahead with halberds as wretched men and women flung horrible curses at our artisans.

//<Bellus frowns.>//

**Bellus:** I'm not entirely sure why they view us as a threat. We merely turn blood to art.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] and [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] exchange glances. [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] sighs deeply and stands up. She dusts her woolen dress off and gestures for Karcist Bellus to stand.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** Very well. Let us go for that walk. I am afraid I must inform you that any trickery will be met with excessive response.

**Bellus:** A valid warning.

//<Bellus stands. [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] squints at [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] and stands up. He approaches her and whispers to her.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** I thought your heart was an implant.

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** Your point?

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** How come it bleeds?

//<[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] rolls her eyes and circles a finger in the air, signaling to all of the MTF agents to deactivate their disguise implants, causing them to appear in their civilian clothes. The group heads for the newly unlocked exit.>//

**<END LOG>**

[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum 9070-4-7:** O5-12's negotiation with the Brazilian branch of the Chaos Insurgency
[[/=]]

[[=]]
+++* 8 DAYS, 2 HOURS AND 18 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070
[[/=]]

-----

Following a shootout between armed protesters and the riot police in Manaus, Brazil, [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] seated himself in a public café about 300 meters from engagement that ended roughly 10 minutes before. [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]'s personal MTF, Alpha-32 "Innocent Death Squad", are stationed on the surrounding buildings' rooftops, at sniper nests in vacated apartments and in close proximity to [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] in the café. 

[[=]]
[[span style="color: #9c0808;font-size: 20px"]] **The Administrator has flagged [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] for Ethics Committee investigation.** [[/span]]
[[/=]]

[[div class="file-class" style="background-color: #000000;color: #adadad;text-shadow: 2px 2px 5px #211d29;border: 3px outset #ffffff; padding:15px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]

**FOREWORD:** Due to [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]'s unanomalous nature, he has been equipped with a kevlar suit and tie.

-----

**<BEGIN LOG>**

//<5 MTF Alpha-32 agents are sat at various outdoor tables, each with a pistol in front of them. 5 meters away from [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]], a corpse of a woman in her late twenties are lying in the middle of the street, having expired from blood loss while trying to crawl away from the recently occurred shootout. A few wooden chairs which have been heavily exposed to outside elements have been knocked over in the panic away from the massacre. A laptop is placed on the table in front of [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]. Its screen shpows a live view of a scene overlooking an ongoing protest through a window from a hotel room in another part of Manaus. A C4 explosive concealed behind the windowframe on the left side of the recording, just out of view from anyone standing outside. 2 wires are attached to the C4 explosive, connecting it to other instances like it.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Goodness, you'd think they'd be a bit faster to react to things like this.

**A32-4:** Uhh, I suppose, Sir.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** I was speaking to myself, girl. Shut up, I'll let you know when I need you to open that cunt-licker of yours.

//<A32-4 purses her lips and looks ahead. [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] looks at his watch.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Fucking idealists.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] sighs. He looks towards the entrance into a residential building ahead of him whose opens. Out of the door a woman in her late fifties exits, wearing a beige trenchcoat, black high heels and large, round sunglasses. She holds a black briefcase, which she switches to her other hand as she approaches [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]].>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Finally.

**[PRESUMED IDENTITY IS DELTA COMMANDER VAMBRACE OF THE CHAOS INSURGENCY.]**

**Cmd. Vambrace:** Fascist pig, I presume?

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Oink oink, lady. Feel free to grab a seat or remain standing or whatever makes you feel empowered.

**Cmd. Vambrace:** How kind of you. I suppose I'll take the seat, you're not worth the effort standing requires.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Charming.

//<Cmd. Vambrace sits down in front of [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]], throwing an idle glance to the laptop. She frowns, leading [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] to smile in response.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Fine work, isn't it?

**Cmd. Vambrace:** Consider me a critic.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Ah, can't win 'em all. Don't worry, just insurance in case you do something profoundly stupid.

**Cmd. Vambrace:** Insurance? This is not material to make us comply?

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** No, no! What do you think I am, a monster?

**Cmd. Vambrace:** You announced your presence with the massacre of innocents.

//<Cmd. Vambrace glances to the dead woman in the middle of the street. A mosquito is attempting to extract blood from the corpse's widened eye without much success.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** It was just a dozen, chill lady. Besides, we took out double that in those pigs you hate so much.

**Cmd. Vambrace:** How kind. What do you want?

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** To help you.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** ...

**Cmd. Vambrace:** ...

//<5 seconds of silence passes.>//

//<[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] and Cmd. Vambrace laugh for 8 seconds. [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] regains his composure and wipes a tear from his eyes. Cmd. Vambrace chuckles lightly.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Okay, maybe I wouldn't call it help. An understanding, perhaps?

**Cmd. Vambrace:** That is quite new. I did not think the Foundation willing to understand my outfit.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Well, it's pretty for an aging corpse trying to convince everyone she's still on top. No. You can have the obelisk.

//<Cmd. Vambrace squints her eyes, she leans back in her chair and places the briefcase on the table. A32-4 reaches for her pistol.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** If you are going to pick that up, it better be to suck on the barrel and off yourself. Let the lady be, girl.

//<A32-4 frowns and straightens her back. She looks ahead again.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Go on.

//<Cmd. Vambrace opens the briefcase and retrieves a few polaroids of SCP-9070-Delta. A group of presumed Insurgency agents are gathered around it. She hands the pictures to [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] and raises an eyebrow.>//

**Cmd. Vambrace:** I suppose you speak of the anti-anomalous structures?

//<[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] looks at the pictures. He nods in an exaggerated manner after a few moments.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** That's the one! You can have it. And the rest of that hellhole it's in.

**Cmd. Vambrace:** You are giving us... the entire rainforest?

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Sure, why not?

**Cmd. Vambrace:** ... Why?

//<[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] bobs his head, lowers his shoulders and sighs heavily. He circles a hand as he continues speaking.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** My people and I are busy. Don't know what you pick up on those commie radios of yours, but, y'know.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]'s expression falls flat for the first time in the conversation. He leans over a bit and looks into Cmd. Vambrace's eyes.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** They can end the anomalous. I don't think either of us wants that.

//<Cmd. Vambrace raises an eyebrow. She looks towards A32-4, then back to [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]].>//

**Cmd. Vambrace:** I can imagine you wouldn't want it. You'd be powerless without all your shiny trinkets. You'd collapse. We'd probably thrive.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** The Brazil chapter certainly would, yes. But, let's be honest. Engineer wouldn't want it, and we both know he got your balls in his hands, red lips.

//<Cmd. Vambrace shrugs.>//

**Cmd. Vambrace:** So you trust us to protect the obelisk for you. Free of charge.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Sure!

**Cmd. Vambrace:** With the resources you have.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Maybe a bit more than what you currently have.

**Cmd. Vambrace:** And just trust you'd pull out of the rainforest.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Like a responsible young lad!

//<Cmd. Vambrace squints her eyes. [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] smiles mockingly.>//

**Cmd. Vambrace:** I have demands.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** You always do!

**Cmd. Vambrace:** Ammunition, rations, paratech and released D-Class.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Certainly! We'll have to go around and lasso together those cunts, though. They've run quite amok in Michigan I hear, but you'll get your manpower. Want the latest fashion from Paris too, doll?

**Cmd. Vambrace:** Unnecessary. You will sign a blood contract, however.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Fuck it, what's a little binding oath between friends, eh?

//<He extends his hand and smiles broadly. Cmd. Vambrace rolls her eyes and pulls out a red-colored parchment. She writes down a collection of conditions, signs it and hands it to [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]. Without hesitation, [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] pricks a hole in his thumb with a provided needle and roughly smears blood on the parchment. It lights up in a bright red hue, before animated ink draws chains around [[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]'s right wrist.>//

**Cmd. Vambrace:** Huh. Just like that. I wonder what tricks you have up your sleeves to fix this.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Darling, I don't pull tricks out my sleeves, but I can sure put another thing inside them.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] winks. Cmd. Vambrace cringes slightly in discomfort. She places the parchment in her briefcase and stands up.>//

**Cmd. Vambrace:** You will deliver the agreed upon assets within 3 days.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** That and a bouquet for you, sweetheart!

**Cmd. Vambrace:** I'll rip the contract, and thus your heart, apart if you do that.

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** Fine, fine. Now walk off so I can enjoy a good view.

//<Cmd. Vambrace rolls her eyes. She walks towards the door she emerged from and enters. A loud click is heard and the door immediately shifts in material, color and design.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]]:** God built those Brazilians so well. Anyways, has to be some whores in this crackhole, right? I'll go find a few and relax, then upload the log to the rest of the O5 Council. They're going to love this.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-12" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-12[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Consul[[/span]][[/span]] winks towards the hidden camera which recorded the footage. It promptly ends.>//

**<END LOG>**

[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum 9070-4-8:** Sgt. Vestergaard's imprisonment at First Pride location
[[/=]]

[[=]]
+++* 8 DAYS, 4 HOURS AND 21 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070
[[/=]]

-----

After completing its auto-repair cycle, the drone activated again and continued to observe Sgt. Vestergaard. When it finds him, he appears to have been released from imprisonment. It is unclear what agreement Sgt. Vestergaard has come to with the First Pride for his release.

-----

[[div style="border:solid 3px; padding:15px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]

//<Sgt. Vestergaard is sat on a bench outside the cell. The material is presumed to be bone of some variety with scrimshaw carvings detailing a wide variety of dinosaurs. Sgt. Vestergaard is currently looking at a group of children playing with what is presumed to be the animated skeleton of a utahraptor. It seems of sapient intellect, responding to questions with tapping its claws. Sgt. Vestergaard jolts when 1ST-3 speaks next to him.>//

**1ST-3:** That is a brave warrior.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Shouldn't you go play with them or something?

**1ST-3:** I am afraid that the children have banned me from playing with them ever since I showed them that my football prowess is the one thing immune from aging.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** You played a lot?

**1ST-3:** Snuck away from home to practice with the kids above ground. Joined a team. Almost made nationals, though I'd become a bit too noteworthy if that happened.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Just set up a football league down here, challenge the neighbors.

**1ST-3:** I have tried. I am too good for my opponents to enjoy themselves. A nearby tribe did suggest getting a collection of televisions and playing those video games with each other every now and then.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Sounds like fun. I suppose I hope you get that working.

//<The two watches the children play for a few minutes. The utahraptor slowly rotates around a singular spot, allowing the children to jump over its tail.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** The fellow doesn't seem particularly vicious.

**1ST-3:** Why would he? He is a protector, if one intimidates those you are to care for, you become a warden rather than a guardian.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Are you trying to tell us that we're not doing the whole containment thing properly? I can inform you I've heard such critique many a times.

**1ST-3:** Hrm. And yet you continue in your craft. 

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** It's convenient and pays well, I don't care about the specifics, man.

//<1ST-3 takes a seat next to Sgt. Vestergaard. Despite Sgt. Vestergaard appearing to be significantly taller than 1ST-3, the bench heavily sinks into the ground on 1ST-3's side.>//

**1ST-3:** My father was much like you, I suspect. The sickness of boredom developed into a depression. He cared not for anything, he led our people into great comfort to escape the chains of his mind. We lost many a spirit in the war he waged with other dwellers.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard seems occupied with the apparent weight difference between the two.>//

**1ST-3:** We became rich, enjoyed fruits from further inland, we obtained many skeletons with great power. We became warlords, simply because not doing so would exhaust us more than bloodshed.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** So I'm a warlord?

**1ST-3:** Maybe. I do not know you. Though our people have had to suffer many a disaster to enjoy the balance that we have now. Plagues, extinction of hunting game, war with our neighbors.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Right, yeah. Typical things you go through to appear all so wise and all that. Too bad you're about to experience another disaster.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard circles a finger in the air.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Unless you let me go handle it, pops.

**1ST-3:** We require guarantees.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Besides the ones I've already given?

**1ST-3:** I demand safety for my people to move to another cavern, given this home has been compromised by your drone.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Eh, sure. I can probably convince an Overseer or two of that.

**1ST-3:** You speak with such casual confidence.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** You get to make demands when you're an immortal who's saving magic I imagine. Otherwise, that'll be the first thing I'll have to convince them of.

**1ST-3:** Perhaps so.

//<1ST-3 hums to himself for a bit. A skeletal nile monitor walks up to the two, wearing a basket on its back strapped in between its forelegs. It contains sandals, cargo shorts, a Colt M1911 pistol and 3 additional magazines besides the one loaded into the pistol. Sgt. Vestergaard eyes it with an unamused expression and twitches his left eye. He seems to accept its presence shortly after.>//

**1ST-3:** Go then. I suspect if I do not let you go, you will grow devious.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Mighty good at knowing people, pops.

**1ST-3:** Comes with the age and profession, devil.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard stands up and starts equipping the offered items.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Wonderful. Know how I can get to Dakar fast?

**1ST-3:** Steal a boat from the tourists or something. They've grown rather bold with their behavior here.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Sure, I'll do you a solid and destroy what I don't steal.

**1ST-3:** How kind of you.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard places the pistol and magazines in his pockets and starts walking towards the entrance silently. The animated monitor follows him along. 1ST-3 sighs heavily and stands up, looking at the glowing orb that hangs in the cave. He quickly rots away and disappears.>//

**1ST-3:** [DISEMBODIED] Tourists...

**<END LOG>**

[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum 9070-4-9:** O5-5 and O5-6 inspects the headquarters of the Free Order of Nadox
[[/=]]

[[=]]
+++* 7 DAYS, 18 HOURS AND 36 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070
[[/=]]

-----

Due to signal interference in Rome, Italy, the following transcript was only recently received and has thus been presented out of order. [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]'s personal MTF, Alpha-25 "Shadow Wizards M.G." are on their way to Rome to engage in intelligence efforts in the city.

-----

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**<BEGIN LOG>**

//<[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] removes a surveillance spider from one of the dozen pouches on her belt. She looks into its camera, from which the recording is captured from, and nods to herself as she confirms it to be active. She drops it to the ground, where it lands securely and starts trailing behind [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]], [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] and Karcist Bellus. The trio are followed by MTF Alpha-26, "Cybercrawler Couriers". The group is in an alleyway in central Rome, facing a dead end which Karcist Bellus has approached. He places his palm on a brick.>//

**Bellus:** I am aware that our holy workshop may be... Grotesque to you. I ask you do not react outwardly, I do not think my people are at a capacity to handle foreign opinion on our religion.

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Seen it all, pal. You're not spec--

//<[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] bumps an elbow into [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] and looks down at him with a frown. [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] rolls his eyes.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** Of course, Karcist. Is that clear, Couriers?

//<A series of pistons, mechanical whirls and ricketing can be heard as all members of Alpha-26 nods.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** Good. Please, go ahead Karcist. I will personally disassemble anyone who'd show your people disrespect in these troubled times.

**<[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] slowly glances down to [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] in an intense manner. The latter scoffs.>**

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** You're not One.

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** And you're not your father.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] twitches his eye.>//

**Bellus:** Very well. Let us away.

//<The brick that Karcist Bellus touched slowly turns to blood. A doorway starts to melt into blood and drips on the cobblestone below, sinking into the ground without trace. A tunnel appears, hosting a spiral staircase going down.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Curious thaumaturgy. No wonder we hadn't found your little temple-- I don't think we've seen this before.

**Bellus:** It is... An ancient technique. I suppose it is a secret no longer.

//<Bellus sighs and starts descending the stairs. [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] and [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] follows, former going before the latter. As [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] removes her hijab to let the variety of cables of ports that her hair has been replaced by available for quick access, her eyes light up as a substitute for a flashlight.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** How old is this temple?

**Bellus:** Oh, goodness... I want to say five centuries? Maybe six. Our historical records were... Burnt during //fasci// uprising in the early 20th century.

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Hadn't expected any underveil organization to be affected by the rise of fascism.

**Bellus:** Your distinction is curious.

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** How so?

**Bellus:** We are not afforded the luxury to distinguish between threats. Both paranormal and normal can be lethal. It is of the same world.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] blinks a few times in consideration. She opens her mouth to speak, but doesn't say anything.>//

**Bellus:** We are approaching the hall. I ask you avoid touching anything, I am not sure how well your skin responds to our holy bloodstone.

//<The group emerges into a large cathedral-like square room. Pews are arranged in an octagon in the middle, each pew placed on a lower level than the one before it. In the middle, a large platform made of a red tinted, obsidian-like material that has a thaumaturgic symbol carved into it. The resulting grooves flows with blood.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Quite an atrocious //feng shui// in he--

//<[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] places a hand on [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]'s shoulder. The latter disperses his hand into smoke for a short moment before it re-manifests.>//

**Bellus:** I suppose we will have many a seat free. I wonder if my people can find solace in this room yet. The Bestial Goddess must find our wavering faith insulting.

//<Four individuals are spread across the room, each seated on a different pew. They all seem to be in a state of grief. One of them, a middle-aged woman, looks at the group and stands up. She departs towards one of the doorways. The group walks around the lowered levels to the opposite of the room, towards another hallway.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** How many people did you use to have?

**Bellus:** Around 200 to 300. We are around 50 now.

//<The group enters the hallway. The floor is red tinted cobblestone, the walls seems to be made of the same stone, yet in larger pieces. The hallway goes on for 50 meters and is flanked by a pillar every 2 meters. Several doors made of a dark wood can be found between many of the pillars. At the end of the hall, a circular room is visible.>//

**Bellus:** I've brought you here for a very simply purpose. Our halls do not... Respect space, so to say. This has lead to an intriguing phenomenon in our workshop.

//<A young man opens a door and emerges from it. Inside, living quarters are visible alongside a worktable with stone that has been carved into resembling a human heart. A beating human heart is placed on top of a freezer. The man sees the group and quickly closes the door, placing himself in front of it with a frown.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** Was tha--

**Bellus:** This is one of our many interactions with the mundane world. We can construct stone organs and use our Blessed Gift to turn it flesh. We... Sell them so that we can afford food, vices, entertainment. We only have a few people left capable of doing it, and it takes a skilled Fleshcarver a month to infuse to proper functionality into them. I fear we may have to depart from our traditions for another source of income, I'm afraid.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] looks to [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]. He leans closer to her and looks up to her while he whispers.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** We'll have to... Contain that.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] returns the look, but does not answer. She stares ahead, causing [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] to frown and do the same.>//

**Bellus:** It's... Perhaps time we move our people away from a city dominated by the Order of Day. Perhaps we will find greater success there. Regardless.

//<The group enters an empty workshop. A large amount of unfinished statues made of red-stained obsidian are placed next to worktables that are in turn littered with hammers, chisels, drills and small fridges. The group walks between them towards the center, where a large fountain that seems to sprout blood can be found. Four jackals chasing each other makes up the center, with a jackal with its mouth open spews the blood upwards.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** This was your main area of operations, I presume?

**Bellus:** Indeed. It was our primary way of interacting with our God's fellow followers -- the construction of statues, glass made from marrow and flesh as well as concealing doors -- took place. Now, it has another, much more dire use.

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** And what would that be?

**Bellus:** Don't you sense it? 

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Sense wha--

//<[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]] freezes for a brief moment before he shudders. He looks up at the ceiling. His mouth slowly opens. [[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] looks to him before she looks over her shoulder at the members of her mobile task force. She clicks her tongue at an imperceptible frequency, prompting the entire group to look around briefly before shaking her head.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Sweetest, merciful God, we're under the goddamn pillar, Six.

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** What? How? When we--

Bellus: I told you these halls do not respect space.

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Is that why, when the curse activated a week ago--

**Bellus:** Our halls were exposed. Seen. What remains of our people were the ones who successfully recast the ritual that hides this temple. It can only be accessed from outside, but when that failed, small cracks formed. The Executors were upon us in mere minutes. It took us ten to hide our home away.

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** But if space is different, how come--

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** Does Epsilon act like a spatial anchor? Does it attempt to force the space to comply with reality?

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** ... Then this has to be the anomaly's center, right?

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** Perhaps so.

**Bellus:** I am ready to vacate this area. If the Jailers would allow my people to leave in peace alongside our materials, I will channel my Sacred Gift upon the ceiling and make this horrendous pillar crash down here--

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Where we can--

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** Set up camp. Huh.

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** Does the Coalition know of this place?

**Bellus:** They know it exists. They cannot find it. I can seal the roof again, but once the obelisk is in here, I am not sure how well the ritual hiding these halls can be maintained.

**[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]]:** ... I'm calling in the Red Right Hand. Hopefully they've cleaned up enough anomalies at this point to be ready for engagement.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-6" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-6[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Singularity[[/span]][[/span]] walks off towards one of the members of Alpha-26, starting a conversation exclusively in an imperceptible pitch.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** It'd appear you just handed us Epsilon on a silver platter, Karcist. We're more than willing to discuss the safe passage of your people in exchange for this.

//<Bellus sighs with relief and smiles to [[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]].>//

**Bellus:** I appreciate it. Celebratory bloodwine?

**[[span class="o5 o5-5" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-5[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Shadow[[/span]][[/span]]:** I'd rather drink quicksilver, good friend.

**Bellus:** More for the journey, then.

**<END LOG>**

[[/div]]

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[[=]]

+ Document 5: Epsilon Pillar

[[/=]]

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[[div class="blockquote cinzel-decorative-regular" style="color: #C4A348;background-color: #360602; text-shadow: 2px 2px #000000; border-color: #C4A348; border-width: 5px;font-weight: bold"]]
It is my belief that to obtain equality between the blessed and the profane, the blessed must be disbarred.

The blessed have been granted a gift that allows them a super-mundane function. It is used to further their goals and manifest their judgement.

I do not consider their reasons for that. When one flies through air, one does not know how it is to walk. They do not choose to consider us, just like I shall not do so either.

The magic I have been educated in is said to make hatred palpable. Then I shall grant them barrages of such.

I will journey to a frozen wasteland, in a continent to the far north. It is said to be one of few convergences of lines of power. It is where the aloof and empowered will be told to mind their step, their language, their power. It is there where equity, at last, shall be achieved. It is there where I will rage.

It is there I will use all that I am to smite these insufferable empires built on the scarred backs of mundanity's population turned slaves. As they crumble, I will reckon we will have plenty of land and material to build structures to the just and working.

I hereby declare that there shall be no more masters of the arcane, no more gods to pray to.

No more trickery.

-Contranumen

[[/div]]

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[[=]]
++ **Addendum 9070-5-1:** Recording received from Telegana, India
[[/=]]

[[=]]
+++* 8 DAYS, 9 HOURS AND 48 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070
[[/=]]

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Recording received from Telegana, India. No other context was supplied by the sender and no additional details were requested from them.

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**<BEGIN LOG>**

//<The recording starts. The camera is looking down a dirt road, seemingly attached to the middle of an individual's chest. The perspective sways from side to side as the person walks through a forest bearing fauna and flora indicating that the recording originates from somewhere in Telangana, India. This continues for 34 minutes and 13 seconds. **The log has not been abbreviated due to a recommendation from the Administrator**.>//

//<Five individuals become visible in the distance. A deep sigh is growled by the individual carrying the perspective. A bronze-like gauntlet with sharpened digits enters the camera's view from the right. As the ring and little finger taps the palm, the gauntlet become reduced to particles that float up the forearm to reveal a hand. The hand circles its index finger in the air, causing the camera to launch itself into the air, from this point circling around the individual it was activated by - **[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]**.>//

//<[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] is wearing a red leather jacket, black leather pants and a long, white shirt. He is wearing a helmet shaped like a heaume, made of the same aforementioned bronze-like material. The gauntlet is rebuilt from the particles emerging from [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]'s sleeve, causing him to be fully armored. He walks towards the five individuals.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]:** You're not good enough to do this.

//<The five individuals, each wearing a suit of Scythian armor with large, purple cloaks wrapped around their shoulders, look to each other. The center-most individual frowns and clenches a fist, causing fire to manifest around his hands. The four others holds their hands out and forms staves and wands out of fire.>//

//<[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] keeps walking at a slow pace.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]:** I care little for your magics. Move aside.

//<The center-most individual points a finger in the air. A projectile made of bright red fire shoots into the air, exploding into streaks of purple and red. From behind [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]], a group of a dozen individuals with robotic prosthetics and implants become visible. Each one of them carrying thin daggers in both hands. A chain is wrapped around their forearms, with the end attached to the daggers. [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] stops and looks over his shoulder.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]:** Are you looking to become actual -- instead of staged -- myth?

//<[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] snaps his right hand, causing particles emerging from his leather jacket to form a protective structure to his right at the exact moment that a command is yelled from the forest.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]:** So be it.

//<A barrage of bullets are fired from [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]'s right, colliding with the barrier he formed. He draws his sidearm and discharges it five times over the barrier, shooting five thrown grenades out of the air. Five projectiles that are made of fire are fired at [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]], though they fizzle out upon reaching threatening proximity.>//

//<[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] suddenly turns his head, noticing the Steelchain Dagger operatives approaching him, despite the assailants not emitting sound. As bronze-like particles flow out of [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]'s sleeve, he switches his sidearm to his left hand as the particles form into a broadsword in his now free hand. He positions the sword in front of him and aims his sidearm at it for about 2 seconds while making minor adjustments to the aim. When he fires, three out out of twelve assailants collapse.>//

//<A lit molotov cocktail emerges from the shooters' position, about to hit [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]'s position. He glances at it and immediately dissolves his sword into small swarms that flies towards the molotov cocktail, alternating its trajectory to hit two of the Steelchain Dagger assailants. They halt and drop to the ground to extinguish the fire by rolling. Five more fire-based projectiles fizzles out behind [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]], who seems to not pay attention to the attacks.>//

**[ASSAILANT STARTS YELLING, GIVEN PRESUMED STEELCHAIN DAGGER AFFILIATION, THEY'VE BEEN CODENAMED CBG-1. WHEN COMMUNICATING AMONG EACH OTHER, THE CHURCH OF THE BROKEN GOD ASSASSINS SPEAK ITALIAN.]**

**CBG-1:** Magic isn't working on him! Guns and bullets, sorcerers!

//<[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] is engaged by three Steelchain Dagger assailants in melee. One of them tosses a dagger attached to a chain by the pommel around [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]'s leg. [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] whispers something akin to a command, which causing particles to emerge from his pant legs. The particles disintegrates the chain and follows the half of the chain attached to the assailant's forearm. The particle breaks down the forearm over 5 seconds, causing the individual to scream. Due to their anomalous sound suppression, this cannot be heard.>//

//<Despite seemingly being informed to use gunfire against [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]], the unidentified fire thaumaturges releases another barrage of fire. [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] takes a step to the left right before the original point of impact, causing the Steelchain Dagger assailants to attempt evasion of the incoming fire. Four of them are hit.>//

**CBG-1:** Guns! Guns!

**CBG-2:** [Italian] //We have to go, nine of us are down! Let them clean the mess up!//

//<The three remaining Steelchain Daggers focuses their efforts on evacuating with their fellow combatants. [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] focuses on the gunfire from the forest and reloads his firearm. He discards the used magazine out of his sidearm's magazine well into the air, hitting an incoming grenade and causes it to bounce onto the other side of the road.>//

//<The thaumaturges approaches closer and starts chanting. The ground underneath [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] starts to heat up and crumble, causing him to struggle to maintain his balance. [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] growls in annoyance and directs particles from his pant legs to create a protective disc underneath him. As the ground continues to heat up, several underground explosives are triggered, causing [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] to be propelled into the air alongside the protective bronze disc beneath him. He is launched 18 meters into the sky and is hit by dozens of rounds of gunfire. All of it collides with the armor that is underneath his clothes and covering his head and hands.>//

//<The camera finds an angle to look into the forest, observing the platoon that is firing upon [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]. Each combatant has a blue armband on their left arm, identifying them as members of the Global Occult Coalition. With his sidearm reloaded. [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] reloads his pistol in mid air and forms the particles beneath him to form an angled platform that changes his fall to be more diagonally. As he slides down the platform, he discharges his firearm nine times and hits nine soldiers through gaps in their body armor.>//

**GOC-2:** [French] //Rifles have taken a hit, requesting covering fire!//

**GOC-1:** [French] //Alright, let's try the heavy guns! Fire!//

//<[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] takes a deep breath. Immediately before a rocket launcher is fired, he fires his sidearm and hits the rocket launcher operator in the shin, causing the individual to lean over and fire the rocket diagonally downwards. The ensuing explosion distracts and scatters the platoon of 40 Global Occult Coalition soldiers right as he hits the ground with a cushioning roll. When he stands back up, he has reloaded his firearm and starts firing at specific personnel, neutralizing 14 soldiers with a shot each. All of them are hit through the eyes or mouth. While he lays on the ground, the particles forms another protective barrier from the previous one.>//

**GOC-2:** [French] //He's down, he's down! Get him while we can!//

**GOC-3:** [French] //All heavy ordinance operators are down!//

**GOC-4:** [French] //Flamethrower, flamethrower!//

//<A large burst of flame emerges from the forest, in tandem with five fire projectiles cast by the unidentified thaumaturges. [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] reacts by rolling into a standing position and jumping backwards as he discharges three shots. The gas canister from the flamethrower operative's equipment is hit and causes the area to become engulfed in flames. The remaining GOC operatives scatter and flee, a quarter of them missing body parts from the rocket launcher explosion and another quarter while on fire. [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] looks to the five thaumaturges further up the road.>//

//<He fires the remaining shot in his magazine at the center-most individual among the thaumaturges. The bullet faces a sudden updraft from the heat generated by one of the thaumaturges and flies over the group. [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] dumps the empty magazine from his sidearm directly down, kicking it at just the right angle to intercept a rifle round that is reflected back upon the shooter in the forest. He slowly slides his remaining ammunition into the magazine well.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]:** You're done. Piss off, //mages//.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] points down the road as a gesture for the group to leave. The center-most individual spits on the road, causing a wall of fire to emerge. It starts slowly move down the dirt road, despite having nothing to burn from. [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] sighs and walks towards the wall of fire. Six different barrages of fire, enhanced in volume as they pass through the wall, explodes in front of [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]. He effortlessly walks through the blasts, unaffected by the energy. He reloads his firearm with a new magazine and fires towards the group. The bullets hit against the center-most individual's barrier which the caster focuses on maintains. [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]'s gunfire hits the same spot repeatedly, right in front of the individual's head, a total of nine times. On the tenth time, the thaumaturge cannot sustain the barrier, causing it to shatter. He expires immediately after as a bullet enters through his forehead.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]:** Final warning.

//<The remaining four thaumaturges freeze. They watch as [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] walks through the approaching wall of fire without being affected by it. They dispel their summoned foci and starts sprinting down the road, causing [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] to halt and sigh.>//

//<[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] looks towards the Global Occult Coalition's location, spotting a large, green obelisk -- SCP-9070-Beta. [[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] removes a mobile phone from his pocket, a Nokia 3310, and presses three buttons. He starts walking towards SCP-9070-Beta as the phone is dialing a call. The receiver answers the call, but remains quiet.>//

**[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]]:** SCP-9070-Beta has been secured. Standing by for reinforcements.

//<[[span class="o5 o5-1" tabindex="0"]][[span class="main"]]O5-1[[/span]][[span class="alt"]]The Anomaly[[/span]][[/span]] snaps his fingers, causing the recording to stop.>//

**<END LOG>**

[[=image OBELISK.png size="medium" style="border-style: simple; border-width: 3px; border-color: #c1c1c1"]]

[[div style="margin-top: -20px"]]
[[=]]
^^//SCP-9070-Beta//^^
[[/=]]
[[/div]]

**AFTERWORD:** Estimated casualties and losses:
[[div style="margin-top: -10px; margin-bottom:410px; margin-right:10px; margin-left:10px"]]

[[div style="padding: 5px; float: left"]]

**Belligerent Losses**
* 32 GOC soldiers
 * 2 Lieutenant-class
 * 5 Sergeant-class
 * 25 Private-class
* 8 CBG operatives
* 1 thaumaturge
* $2.1mil in equipment
 * 49 Marshall AR-S4s
 * 8 Marshall PDP44s
 * 56 Logarithmic kevlar battle-armor suits
 * 92 Fragment grenades
 * 2 Holysteel Gravity-Pull grenades
* SCP-9070-Beta

[[/div]]

[[div style="padding: 5px; float: right"]]

**Foundation Losses**
* 2 Beretta M9 15-round magazines

[[/div]]

[[/div]]

[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum 9070-5-2:** Dr. Wrenna's interrogation
[[/=]]

[[=]]
+++* 8 DAYS, 13 HOURS AND 17 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070
[[/=]]

-----

Following Dr. Wrenna making contact with a Dakar local, now known to be known Serpent's Hand member Jas Weißenwrachz, contact was lost and the signal to the drone was interrupted. Following several attempts to send activation signals to the drone, it suddenly regained function independently.

[[div style="border:solid 3px; padding:15px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]

**FOREWORD:** [**ERROR:** MEMORY CORRUPTED. RESTARTING RECORDING. PREVIOUS DATA FAILED TO SEND AND IS CONSIDERED LOST.]

-----

**<BEGIN LOG>**

//<Dr. Wrenna slowly gains consciousness. He is tied to a chair in a dusty library. The drone scans the surroundings. A man wearing a green, open robe stands in front of him -- individual is identified as Weißenwrachz.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Wh-- How did you...

**Weißenwrachz:** A wizard may be out of useful spells, but I can assure you we're never out of options. 

//<Dr. Wrenna blinks rapidly and sways from side to side. He mumbles something inaudible, before speaking up.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** How did you-- know that I was--

**Weißenwrachz:** The drone you have with you. Cloaking technology? Quite crafty, hard to hit too. It took me a while to discover it, but when I did...

//<Weißenwrachz winks towards the drone. The lens vibrates.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** Anyways, Jailer. I do know that I have little precious time to communicate with you, so why don't you start speaking about why you're here without reinforcements.

**Dr. Wrenna:** Do you-- do you have water?

**Weißenwrachz:** Do I--?

//<Weißenwrachz tilts his head backwards and sighs. He rummages through his robe's inner pockets. His arm seems to reach further than should be possible. He retrieves a Dasani water bottle and tosses it to Dr. Wrenna. It softly collides with Dr. Wrenna's forehead and rolls off onto the floor. Dr. Wrenna twitches an eye.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** Whoops. Anyways, now that that's handled, let's focus up. What are you planning? Are you with the Exterminators?

**Dr. Wrenna:** The... Exter-- oh! You're referring to the Coalition? No.

//<Dr. Wrenna smiles apologetically.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** I'm sort of here to... Ensure they do not obtain control of this one obel--

**Weißenwrachz:** The Cursed Pillar of the Mage-Breaker.

**Dr. Wrenna:** Yeah, sure, not sure if that's what we call it in our documentation, but I'm flexible. The Hand must be rather slow on intel if you don't know the Foundation opposes the Coalition in this matter.

//<Weißenwrachz squints. He averts his eyes from Dr. Wrenna momentarily.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** We're a bit occupied, is all.

//<Dr. Wrenna furrows his eyebrows. He leans back in the chair and crosses his legs.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** With what... What could possibly make that the case? The Hand's mode of transportation is near unriva--

//<Dr. Wrenna pauses, his mouth is left agape as he seems to contemplate something. Weißenwrachz growls a curse under his breath that the drone does not have the technological capacity to record.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** The bloody wave of anti-anomalous radiation wiped out the Ways, didn't it?

//<Weißenwrachz inhales sharply. He pauses for a brief moment before continuing the conversation.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** So if you're not with the Coalition, what's your purpose here? Espionage?

**Dr. Wrenna:** Man, I'm like, a chemist. I don't know the first thing about being a spy.

**Weißenwrachz:** That explains why you were so easy to get the drop on. Yet it doesn't explain the nullification spell around you...

**Dr. Wrenna:** Couldn't tell you the first thing about it either. You know as much as I do.

**Weißenwrachz:** Curious. You don't seem to be a mage, and yet...

//<Weißenwrachz pulls a wand out from his robe's sleeve, in the same motion as he draws it, he creates a projectile of thaumaturgic energy that rapidly approaches Dr. Wrenna. The anomaly that nullifies non-biological threats activates, invalidating the spell before it can hit Dr. Wrenna.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** An incredibly atypical abjuration spell. Or is it even a spell? I cannot quite tell.

**Dr. Wrenna:** Look, let me level with you. I'm here to ensure that the Coalition and the Children does not obtain control of the pillar. If anything, I'd prefer for your outfit to control the damn thing.

//<Weißenwrachz lets out an amused snort.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** The Jailers would never relent control.

**Dr. Wrenna:** We are in very similar situations, man. Our hands are tied too.

**Weißenwrachz:** How so?

//<Dr. Wrenna shrugs.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** I can't tell you. But I can lend you a helping hand. I have two, uhh, demons. I think.

//<Weißenwrachz raises an eyebrow and sheaths his wand inside his robe's sleeve again. He looks Dr. Wrenna up and down.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** You do not strike me as a demonologist.

**Dr. Wrenna:** I'm not. I'm simply using the assets granted to me by one.

**Weißenwrachz:** How do you call them?

//<Dr. Wrenna bobs his head left and right. He forms a smile.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Typically Ms. Maskmaker is incredibly vigilant of spells being cast, and well-- my anomaly being activated.

**Weißenwrachz:** ...

//<Weißenwrachz pulls out two wands, one from each sleeve, just in time before a blue energy fills the room. Afrastella Maskmaker breaks through the door of the library in her disguised form, a girl around 9 years of age wearing a pink shirt.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]]Hands off the mortal, wizard. You shan't jeopardize my contract.[[/span]]

//<Weißenwrachz points both of the wand at Afrastella Maskmaker. He slowly lowers one of them and lets out a prolonged confused vocalization.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]]Ah. Of course.[[/span]]

//<Afrastella Maskmaker is engulfed in blue smoke. It fades to reveal her demonic form, a humanoid figure with blue scales, long, elongated fingers and a white mask covering her face. Blue liquid runs down from the circular eyes of the same color.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** Curious. A Duskbringer of Bherrhir, under the Jailers? How the mighty have fallen!

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]]A temporary situation, I can assure you. They will become my puppets in due time. Disarm yourself, pathetic mortal. You will know the true extent of my wrath otherwise.[[/span]]

//<Afrastella Maskmaker lowers herself slightly and starts channeling thaumaturgic energy into blue orbs between her fingers.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** I'd like to see you try, witch-demon!

//<Weißenwrachz's wands are engulfed in bright lightning that reaches his arms. The thaumaturgic energy in the room causes a few books and pieces of paper to circle around the two in an apparent vortex.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Look, look-- can you--

//<Dr. Wrenna struggles against his restraints. As he applies force to them that'd otherwise cause irritation to his wrists, his anomaly causes the rope to burst. He stands up.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Can we calm down? Let us calm down. I really want all of us in peak health to deal with the Scarlet Society and the Coalition.

//<Afrastella Maskmaker cants her head sideways to look at Dr. Wrenna, then returns to stare Weißenwrachz down. The latter groans and looks around, seemingly inspecting his circumstances.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** Let's pretend this isn't a play for control of the Anti-Magic Obelisk. How are you certain that the Duskbringer demon here isn't going to turn on you?

//<Afrastella Maskmaker scoffs.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]]As if that mortal was capable of bringing my schemes to halt. No, it is not //him// who I am bound to.[[/span]]

//<Weißenwrachz raises one of his wands to his head, scratching his hair. The electric currents causes his ponytail to levitate.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** If not him, then what master are you a servant for?

//<Afrastella Maskmaker falls quiet. According to a quick filtered search of the Foundation's databases of transcripts, this is the first time a Bherrhirr Duskborn demon is recorded showing signs of fear. She twitches her fingers and steadies her breath.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] I simply know her as The Summoner. [[/span]]

//<Weißenwrachz frowns deeply. He stops channeling thaumaturgic energy through his wands, causing Afrastella Maskmaker to lower her hands with a shudder.>//

//<5 seconds pass, the silence is interrupted by Weißenwrachz sighing deeply.>// 

**Weißenwrachz:** Look. How the hell do you want us to control the pillar with, what? Us three?

**Dr. Wrenna:** Four. Potentially five.

**Weißenwrachz:** Right.

**Afrastella Maskmaker:**  [[span class="demonB"]] Underestimate me not, mortals. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** I'd never, Ms. Maskmaker. But our numbers could, in common theory at least, be overrun by the Coalition's numbers and the Children's magic. I'm not... Incredibly useful in combat either. A mere soldier, perhaps.

**Weißenwrachz:** I'd not even have a clue about //where// they're located. Every time I go outside I have to shake three Scarlet Society warlocks off my trail. Their numbers must be incredible to cover Dakar like that.

**Dr. Wrenna:** ... Well.

**Afrastella Maskmaker:**  [[span class="demonB"]] We have the wisdom for such. Can you summon more mortals? [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** With... Difficulty. I can perhaps open a Way. But it'd become an immediate beacon for all who are magically inclined. It'd also take time that can very much be reacted upon.

**Dr. Wrenna:** I mean-- if we know where the Scarlet Society are located, surely we can form a plan to create a Way as far away as possible from them, or even like-- sabotage them, right? 

**Weißenwrachz:** It'd help if we knew where the Executioners wer--

//<Tarel'ka the Gilded enters the room, carrying an inebriated male over his shoulder. Tarel'ka the Gilded smiles widely.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]]HERE YOU ARE. I'D APOLOGIZE FOR BEING SLOW TO REACT, BUT YOU'D NEVER GUESS WHO I JUST DRANK ALL NIGHT WITH. [[/span]]

//<Tarel'ka the Gilded tosses a name tag to Dr. Wrenna, who catches it after fumbling it thrice. He looks at it. It reads "Commander Vaine"[[footnote]] Vaine is suspected of being a top ranking officer overlooking the GOC's efforts in West Africa. [[/footnote]]. Dr. Wrenna slowly looks up to Tarel'ka the Gilded with a quizzical look.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] ALRIGHT. WHAT ARE WE SCHEMING. USE SIMPLE WORDS, I DON'T REALLY CARE THAT MUCH. [[/span]]

**<END LOG>**

[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum 9070-5-3:** Sgt. Vestergaard's arrival in Dakar
[[/=]]

[[=]]
+++* 8 DAYS, 15 HOURS AND 38 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070
[[/=]]

-----

Sgt. Vestergaard managed to obtain a motorboat which he used to travel north to Dakar. After he made landfall on the shore south of Dakar, Sgt. Vestergaard proceeded to acquire additional clothing and moved towards a safehouse he presumably had knowledge of -- the same safehouse where Adaline Carpenter was interrogated by Agent Nunya of MTF Alpha-25 "Shadow Wizard M.G."

[[div style="border:solid 3px; padding:15px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]

**<BEGIN LOG>**

//<Sgt. Vestergaard approaches the safehouse. It is notably in an abandoned housing district that was condemned due to Foundation interference in 1983. It has remained mostly uninhabited since. Sgt. Vestergaard approaches the safehouse from an angle where Agent Nunya's decapitated head and the broken window cannot be seen. He whistles as he opens the door and observes the scene.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** --//hva' helvede//?

//<Sgt. Vestergaard pushes the door open. It creaks loudly. Adaline Carpenter is sitting on a chair with bandages wrapped around her torso. She seems to fall in and out of consciousness every few seconds. Sgt. Vestergaard raises his eyebrows in mild surprise and walks inside. He glances at the remains of Agent Nunya, covered by flies, as he passes through the room to place a bag containing water and food on a clean part of the kitchenette counter. He retrieves a bottle of water and walks past Carpenter, places the bottle in her lap as he goes to close the door.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** You've thrown quite a party in here, missus. You awake?

//<As Sgt. Vestergaard turns around from closing the door, Carpenter has moved up to Sgt. Vestergaard, holding one arm around her ribcage and the other up to Sgt. Vestergaard's face. She's wearing the thaumaturgic focus gauntlet on the latter hand. Sgt. Vestergaard forms a smile.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Whoa, big girl, eh? 

**Carpenter:** Who-- are--

//<Sgt. Vestergaard jabs Carpenter in the stomach. She inhales sharply and keels over, with her fall being interrupted by Sgt. Vestergaard who slowly moves her towards the chair she came from.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** How about you save the heroics for a time you aren't completely battered. Want a sandwich?

//<Sgt. Vestergaard slowly lowers Carpenter onto the seat and pats her on the head twice. He walks over to the bag and rummages through it.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I got ham and cheese, ham and cheese, uh, ham and cheese. Four cheeses...

//<Carpenter coughs in dry, small bursts and groans out in pain, presumably from the broken rib she has sustained.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Not a fan of four cheese I suppose, ham and cheese it is. Where did you toss that bottle of water?

//<Sgt. Vestergaard drops a store-bought ham and cheese sandwich with gluten-free bread onto Carpenter's lap. He walks over to retrieve the water bottle and places it in the same place. He retrieves the only other intact chair and places it in front of Carpenter. He seats himself down.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** You look like shit. When did you apply those bandages?

//<Carpenter takes a ragged breath, seemingly preparing to answer. She stares Sgt. Vestergaard down, who in turn winks at her. She growls under her breath.>//

**Carpenter:** Yester-- day.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Damn, shoddy work. They look a week old. Did the old boy over there--

//<Sgt. Vestergaard gestures to the liquefied MTF operative.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** --do your makeup or something? Quite a fan of the running mascara, it gives "regretting my life choices at 3 in the morning".

//<Carpenter rolls her eyes. She slowly moves to grab the bottle of water. She weakly opens it while staring Sgt. Vestergaard down. After struggling for 10 seconds, she brings it to her mouth and drinks the entire bottle in one go.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I do also believe that the guy has to be Foundation, which makes me wonder why he's just been left here. Guess you were too much of a risk to walk in on, eh?

//<Carpenter tries to toss the empty water bottle at Sgt. Vestergaard, but it slips out of her hands and is dropped on the floor.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** You're quite a savage woman. Normally someone would thank a savior.

**Carpenter:** I am-- my own savior.

//<Carpenter stretches her fingers on her armored hand. Sgt. Vestergaard rolls his eyes.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Look, you can kill me. You absolutely can. But I'm going to come back.

//<Carpenter raises an eyebrow.>//

**Carpenter:** Im-- possible.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** No, truly. I swear by //Christian den Syvende//. Like, go ahead and try. It's not like you're in a condition to run anyways. Just-- let me get my shirt off so I don--

//<Carpenter snaps her fingers. Sgt. Vestergaard's chest bursts and causes him to fall backwards with the chair. He expires from having no heart. Carpenter snorts in an amused manner and starts opening the packaging on the store-bought sandwich.>//

**[4 MINUTE AND 39 SECONDS CUT FOR BREVITY.]**

//<As Carpenter finishes the sandwich and sighs. She leans back in the chair as Sgt. Vestergaard's fatal wound starts regenerating. After 15 seconds, he gasps for air, causing Carpenter to jolt and subsequently groan in pain.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Okay, lady. Yeah. Just ruin the most comfortable white shirt I've found.

**Carpenter:** How--

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I simply do not care to explain anymore, okay? I've had to spin a version of it thrice in the last 24 hours.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard rises to his feet and picks up the chair, placing it in front of Carpenter. He walks over to the bag.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I'm changing your bandages, if you're going to moan about it, feel free to kill me again. But you will get my blood all over the first aid.

//<Carpenter lets out a prolonged growl.>//

**Carpenter:** I do not trust you to.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Whatever, lady. I have a bleeding heart for helping those in need. I think.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard retrieves a bottle of alcohol and a roll of bandages, he turns around and approaches Carpenter who flexes her fingers.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I'm going to peel that shoddy bandage off you, so don't blast me apart, alright?

//<Carpenter frowns and stares ahead. Sgt. Vestergaard starts removing the bandage. As Carpenter's back is revealed, it is caked in dried blood. The knife wound in her back seems to be infected, causing Sgt. Vestergaard to flinch. He takes a piece of cloth, adds some alcohol to it and places it upon the wound.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Quite impressive how you've survived this amount of blood loss. The infection also seems to be somewhat kept in check, despite the surroundings.

**Carpenter:** Hate.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Hm?

**Carpenter:** Hate. I am a wielder-- of curses. I hate the infection-- it stops.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard purses his lips and nods slowly. It is unclear if he is convinced. He starts cleaning the wound, causing Carpenter to flinch several times.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Thorstein, by the way. You got a name?

**Carpenter:** Not for-- you.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Lovely. Sour bitch it is.

//<Carpenter exhales in an annoyed manner.>//

**Carpenter:** Adaline.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Wonderful! You sound American, well that and the--

//<Sgt. Vestergaard looks around the room.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** --signature handling of issues in foreign territories gives it away, though. What are you doing here?

//<Carpenter doesn't respond.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Not a chatty one, are we? Alright.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard wraps the clean bandages around Carpenter's torso.>//

**Sgt Vestergaard:** Alright, shouldn't be too tight on the ribs. But you really ought to get somewhere safe to heal, though.

**Carpenter:** It matters little. My King will take me when he wishes.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard squints his eyes in thought. He exclaims in realization.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Oh! You're one of those Scarlet culti--!

**Carpenter:** Society.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Right, of course. Socialist. That makes sense. That hateful aura of vengeance should've given it away, only seen it in accountants before now-- are you an accountant?

**Carpenter:** No. I am a warlock of vengeful and grand purpose.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** What a charming portfolio, I suppose it isn't entirely helpful in this economy. What had you get roped up into that?

//<Carpenter averts her gaze and stares off into the distance. She does not respond.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Mhm. We all got our weak points. My bad. 

//<Sgt. Vestergaard steps back to bag he brought along. He removes a shirt from it and approaches Carpenter.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Can you raise your arms over your head?

**Carpenter:** No.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard rolls the shirt up. He places the shirt over Carpenter's head and unfurls it over her torso.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** There we go. Now you're almost well off. We really ought you to get you lying down, bu--

**Carpenter:** You are tired, aren't you?

//<Sgt. Vestergaard perks an eyebrow.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** No, since you just killed me I just woke up from what's equivalent of a proper sleep.

//<Carpenter runs a thumb over her cheek, wiping away some blood and cosmetics.>//

**Carpenter:** My Liege lets me see kindred emotions. It is how we find suitable candidates for the Society.

//<Carpenter weakly raises her hand, covering Sgt. Vestergaard from her field of vision. An upside down, spiked crown appears in a glowing red, surrounded by seven thaumaturgic symbols, appears on the back of Carpenter's hand.>//

[[=image sigil%20of%20the%20scarlet%20society.png size="medium"]]

[[=]]

[[div style="margin-top: -10;"]] 
^^//Sigil of the Scarlet Society, symbol of a subset of the Children of the Scarlet King most active in the Maghreb and Iberian Peninsula.//^^ 
[[/div]]

[[/=]]

**Carpenter:** You are like us.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard looks at Carpenter for 5 seconds. He shrugs and approaches the mattress at the corner of the room. As he lifts it up, several insects come crawling out, 3.6% of which have not been documented by mundane science before.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** You folks have a place I can drop you off at? Seems like you're not going to survive laying down here. 

**Carpenter:** You have gone rogue from your group, have you not?

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Is that an occult way to say no or something?

**Carpenter:** You are afraid of your masters finding out. Or you are afraid of yourself. Perhaps that is why you seem to be... Utterly aloof.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard inhales sharply.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Look, lady. I'm just trying to help you, but if you're going to prosel--

**Carpenter:** You have a scheme regarding My Lord's gift. The obelisk.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard falls quiet. He inhales deeply and slowly turns to face Carpenter.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I sure hope you pick your next words carefully. I don't appreciate being accused of treason while I'm being watched.

//<Carpenter chuckles. She starts channeling thaumaturgic energy through her gauntlet.>//

**Carpenter:** Oh, we are always watched. My eyes are my Liege's.

//<Carpenter unleashes a thaumaturgic spell in a wide area. The drone is knocked out of the air and impacts with the ground, causing significant damage. It attempts to initiate self-repair, but is prevented from doing such by unknown circumstances.>//

**[SUSTAINED CRITICAL DAMAGE. AUTO SELF-REPAIR INITIATION FAILED. REQUEST FOR AID FAILED. SHUTDOWN INEV--]**

**<End Log>**

[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum 9070-5-4:** Dr. Wrenna's task force liberate Global Occult Coalition assets
[[/=]]

[[=]]
+++* 8 DAYS, 17 HOURS AND 53 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070
[[/=]]

-----

In order to weaken Coalition presence in Dakar, Afrastella Maskmaker proposed sabotaging various bases of operations before creating the Way to obtain a method of reinforcement. Due to Coalition and Scarlet fortification around SCP-9070-Gamma and the intelligence gained from a high-ranking Coalition officer, it became apparent that a weapons depot containing anti-thaumaturgic weaponry was left on low security. Dr. Wrenna decided to act on this intelligence.

-----

[[div style="border:solid 3px; padding:15px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]

**<BEGIN LOG>**

//<Dr. Wrenna, Afrastella Maskmaker, Tarel'ka the Gilded and Jas Weißenwrachz approach the weapons depot located in a Coalition-owned apartment building in Mermoz-Sacré-Cœur. A couple passes by the quartet, with Dr. Wrenna in cargo shorts and a Hawai'ian shirt, Afrastella Maskmaker in a long dress and with a cross-body bag, Tarel'ka the Gilded wearing a casual business outfit and Jas Weißenwrachz wearing an open green robe and copper jewelry.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** //Bonsoir, les amis//.

//<The couple quietly greets Weißenwrachz back and walks away at a heightened pace.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] SMOOTH JOB, MORTAL. THEY WON'T SUSPECT A THING. [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** The Jailers will use their vile elixirs to wipe memory regardless. This is nothing.

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] Quite an useful substance, indeed. One day, I must simply learn the secrets needed to produce such. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** Look, can we-- ah, whatever. Ms. Maskmaker, you're, uhh. Good at this, right?

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] You're adorable, but yes. [[/span]]

//<Afrastella Maskmaker runs her thumb and index finger over her eyes. They start glowing in cyan as she eyes the building. She slowly looks down beneath the building.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]]  I am sensing-- areas without any magic in them, under this structure. [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** Dead casting zones?

**Dr. Wrenna:** I do believe the proper term is reality anchor. They must be applying mathematical formulae to reinforce baseline existence.

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] THAT'S THEIR VAULT, THEN. EVERY PROPER //HARRAAL// KNOWS THAT THE MOST KEY PART OF PROTECTING YOUR VALUABLES IS ENSURING THAT COWARDLY THIEVES CANNOT TRICK THEIR WAY INSIDE WITH CHEATING MAGICS. [[/span]]

//<Afrastella Maskmaker and Tarel'ka the Gilded exchange a glare towards each other.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] THAT'LL BE WHERE WE HAVE TO HIT THEM. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** Wonderful. Their entrance has to be inside the building itself, any clue as to how we can get inside without tripping alarms?

**Weißenwrachz:** I am afraid that the Executioners knowing of our presence is more of a when than an if. I can perhaps ritualize a delay on their technology, but knowing these murderers, they probably have an alarm for magic, too.

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] I shall cloak you, mortal. I know little of how to interfere with human constructs. [[/span]]

//<Afrastella Maskmaker and Weißenwrachz start casting their ritual. Tarel'ka the Gilded pulls his sleeve back and eyes the four gold watches on his forearm. He frowns.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] YOU KNOW, GEORGE-BOY. THESE COALITION FOLKS ARE QUITE GOOD AT HANDLING OUR KIND, BUT IT DOES SURPRISE ME THAT THEY HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING WITH THE PILLARS YET. FROM WHAT I UNDERSTOOD, THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO END THEIR IDEA OF MAGIC. WHY HAVEN'T THEY DONE THAT YET? [[/span]]

//<Dr. Wrenna opens his mouth to speak, but squints his eyes.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** You know, from what I understood, they only needed one pillar to work from. Given they've controlled the one here for a bit, you'd think they'd have done SOMETHING at this point.

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] THEY'RE ALLIED WITH WARLOCKS, AREN'T THEY? THOSE SOCIETY FOLKS. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** Well, I think it's the Children of the One Who Shan't Be Named, a few factions from the Church of the Broken God... Perhaps local groups and persons of interest? I'm not sure.

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] I WAS THINKING, RIGHT? MAYBE THEY'RE IN, UH, DISAGREEMENT. FROM WHAT I KNOW OF THE SUMMONER, SHE'D SURELY HAVE SOMEONE GATHERING MORE INTELLIGENCE TO KNOW FOR CERTAIN WHAT IS HAPPENING. HAVE YOU RECEIVED ANY CALL FROM HER? [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** Now that you mention it, not really, no. They must still be in the dark? Handling escaped anomalies and all that.

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] OR, YOU KNOW. MAYBE YOUR OWN RANKS AREN'T AS SECURE AS YOU'D LIKE THEM TO BE. [[/span]]

//<Dr. Wrenna blinks a few times.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Huh. I suppose that information might be kept tight to avoid any counterintelligence efforts from the Coalition's side.

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] SURE, WHATEVER COUNTERINTELLIGENCE MEANS. [[/span]]

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]]  I thought "seeding doubt" was our trick, Hoarding One? [[/span]]

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] AND I THOUGHT REMAINING QUIET WAS ONE OF YOUR TRICKS TOO. WHY DON'T YOU PERFORM IT, WITCH? [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** Alright, circle's done, incantation inscribed-- let me cast the spell. We'll have about half an hour before the delay is up. Should be plenty of time to grab what we need and decimate the rest.

//<Weißenwrachz removes his wands from his sleeves. He points one of them at the circle. Afrastella Maskmaker starts channeling obfuscating thaumaturgy.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** Ready?

**Dr. Wrenna:** When you are.

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] GOLD AND COIN, FRIENDS. AND RAT. [[/span]]

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] How charming. Let us away. [[/span]]

//<Tarel'ka the Gilded rolls up his other sleeve, revealing three more gold watches. He walks up to the front door of the apartment building and tries to open the door. Upon discovering it to be locked, he forms a fist and hits the door with such velocity that the door breaks off the hinges and lock and flies 3 meters into the building, neutralizing an unarmed Coalition security guard by blunt force trauma. Tarel'ka shakes his hand and looks inside the room.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] ALRIGHT, THE FIRST DIVISION OF THIS STRUCTURE IS CLEAR. COME ALONG. [[/span]]

//<Tarel'ka the Gilded steps inside and waves the rest of the group along. The trio follows after a few exchanged glances.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Impressive strength, Mr. Gilded.

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] OH YEAH, IT IS SORT OF OUR THING. STRONG BODIES AND ALL THAT. ANYWAYS, I'M NOT SEEING ANYTHING IN HERE, YOU SAID IT WAS BENEATH THE HUMAN CONSTRUCTION, MASKMAKER? [[/span]]

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] That is correct. Perhaps they have a portal here for traversing downwards. [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** Well, something of the sort.

//<The group, having all entered, looks around the room. Dr. Wrenna approaches the security guard and inspects her pockets. He retrieves an access keycard from her and stands up, he wipes a bit of blood off it and holds it up to Weißenwrachz.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** Alright, now we go for the elevator.

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] Let me leave a sigil of alarm. [[/span]]

//<Afrastella Maskmaker removes some chalk from her bag and draws on the wall next to the door. Dr. Wrenna approaches the doors to the elevator and presses the call button.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] INSUFFERABLE LACK OF VALUABLES HERE. WHERE ARE THE PAINTINGS WITH SILVER FRAMES. THE URNS OF ANCIENT PASTS. WEAPONS OF GREAT WARRIORS. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** I don't think we have time to teach you about the middle economic class, Mr. Gilded.

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] WHATEVER. I HAVE THE REST OF ETERNITY TO ACCRUE WEALTH AND LEARN. [[/span]]

//<The elevator arrives and sounds a small bell. Dr. Wrenna steps inside and eyes the buttons.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Huh, only goes up-- although... Everyone, mind stepping in?

//<The group congregates in the elevator, barely fitting. Afrastella Maskmaker and Tarel'ka the Gilded exchanges minor physical altercations while being pressed against each other. Dr. Wrenna holds the keycard in front of the floor buttons. A beep is heard and the doors close, the elevator starts descending.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] INFURIATINGLY LITTLE SPACE IN THIS VEHICLE. [[/span]]

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]]  Perhaps if you didn't have a disguise so large, you'd fit into more places. [[/span]]

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] OH, SILENCE YOURSELF. IF YOU'RE GOING TO CRY LIKE A MORTAL TODDLER, AT LEAST SHAPESHIFT INTO ONE. [[/span]]

//<Weißenwrachz sighs and leans closer to Dr. Wrenna and whispers to him.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** Never accept Duskborn from different patrons ever again.

//<Dr. Wrenna nods slowly with a thin smile. The elevator comes to a halt and opens the doors, revealing a basement with crates and shelves. In the middle, a round table with five seats surrounding it is occupied by the same amount of security personnel playing a game of poker. Notably, one of the guards has a literal ace up their sleeve that falls out as the Coalition group notices Dr. Wrenna's group.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** ... We're here to relieve you from the shift?

//<The security personnel glances among themselves before they each draw a sidearm and starts firing upon the group. Weißenwrachz tries to channel thaumaturgic energy but fails to form it into an attack. Tarel'ka the Gilded shoves himself in front of the group and turns his back to the gunfire, protecting the group.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] I FIGURE YOU LOT ARE RATHER WORTHLESS WITHOUT MAGIC. GO BACK UP, IF YOU CAN-- I'LL TAKE CARE OF THESE WEAKLINGS. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** Don't have to tell me twice! Let's go!

//<Dr. Wrenna scans the keycard again. As he does, Tarel'ka the Gilded walks backwards, still covering the group. The door closes behind him and the elevator goes back up.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] I suppose the fool has some use. At least he's immune to spellbreaking. [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** Those are quite powerful anchors-- usually you can still cast basic spells if you have a focus and training, but--

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] I wonder what they deem so important to protect... [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** Alright, can't hear gunfire anymore. Let's... Descend and hope they haven't killed Mr. Gilded.

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] I highly doubt they possess the capability to pierce his thick skull. Has to be mostly solid. [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** Pistol at the ready, just in case.

//<Dr. Wrenna draws his sidearm and points it at the door. His hands tremble a bit. Weißenwrachz places his hand on Dr. Wrenna's gun and nods to him.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** Don't worry, we'll hide behind the demon if they're still down there.

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] ... What? [[/span]]

//<The doors open once more, revealing Tarel'ka the Gilded surrounded by the expired security personnel. He is in the process of transferring assets from the table to his inner pockets.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] THESE ARE MINE. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** ... Sure.

**Weißenwrachz:** Did you spot any totems of dispelling?

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] CURIOUSLY ENOUGH, NO. JUST A BUNCH OF INVENTORY TO MY EYES. [[/span]]

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] Then they'd have to be located in these containers, no? [[/span]]

//<Dr. Wrenna steps over one of the corpses who had its windpipe removed. He approaches one of the crates and removes a lid from it by forcing his hand against it harshly, activating his anomaly with causes the wood to disintegrate. Inside, a collection of Marshall AR-S4s, assault rifles made to fire Marshall La Méprise .223 rounds that have standard logarithm carved into the bullets, causing suppression of anomalous material they impact with.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Oh, these are useful, especially if we're going up against thaumaturges. Can you put this into the elevator, Mr. Gilded?

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] OH, WHY. WHEN YOU ASK SO NICELY, UNLIKE //SOMEONE//, I'D LOVE TO. [[/span]]

//<Tarel'ka the Gilded approaches the crate and picks it up. He squints at Afrastella Maskmaker as he passes by her.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] Let us check further in. It is there I sense the dead zones. [[/span]]

//<Weißenwrachz pulls out a pistol from his robe. It has "NEVER OUT OF OPTIONS" carved into the side of the handle. The group waits for Tarel'ka the Gilded to return before moving further in. Dr. Wrenna periodically checks the content of the crates -- they mostly consist of assault rifles, grenades, body armor and fabricated currency. The group nears a set of crates pushed up against the wall at the end. Each one of them is secured by chains. Three crates appear to have been recently moved, as seen by the three clean squares free of dust.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** How odd, I didn't know people actually did that. Chained up crates. Seems like some of them have already gone somewhere, too.

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] STAND BACK, I'LL OPEN THIS. [[/span]]

//<Tarel'ka the Gilded approaches the crates. He grabs one of the chains and pulls at them violently, until the metal snaps. He rips the lid of the crate off and looks inside. He stumbles backwards and lets out a pained roar after a few seconds.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] DAMNABLE, WHAT IN THE SEVEN LIEGES IS THIS. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** Let me... See.

//<Tarel'ka the Gilded steps backwards and rubs his eyes. Weißenwrachz frowns as Dr. Wrenna approaches the crane, mumbling something inaudible under his breath. Afrastella Maskmaker takes a few cautious steps backwards.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Holy shit. I think I figured out why they haven't attempted to activate the pillar. The GOC aren't trying to empower it. This is-- way stronger than what Alpha let off. They're not using the pillar as intended, they're--

//<Dr. Wrenna slowly reaches down into the crate. He pulls out a shard of SCP-9070-Gamma.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** --mining and refining it.

//<Afrastella Maskmaker hisses and turns around. Tarel'ka the Gilded turns around as well.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** ... But why would they not just activate it? From what you told me, the Jailers gathered intelligence that they potentially desired to wipe away all magic from this world.

//<Dr. Wrenna blinks.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Maybe it isn't just this--

//<The basement rumbles, causes all four persons in the group to stumble. Dr. Wrenna struggles to hold onto the shard, but manages to catch it after a few attempts.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] Have they already reacted? Why are they using this amount of power on their own fortification? [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** No wonder they already know we're here if they had refined anti-magic radioactive stones down here. It made the delaying spell weaker.

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] NO TIME TO PONDER. WE HAVE TO MOVE. PLACED THAT CRATE IN THE DOOR OF THE VEHICLE, SO IT OUGHT TO AT LEAST MAKE CREATING A PATH HERE DIFFICULT. WERE THERE ANY OTHER WAYS IN? [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** Not to my--

//<A crate pops open, revealing a metallic head facing away from the group. A label can be seen running down the machine's head. The robot, about 3 meters in height stands up.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** Anderson... Robotics.

**Dr. Wrenna:** Oh no.

//<18 more combat robots force their ways out of the crates that hold them. Once each has emerged, they all rotate their heads around to look at the group at the same time.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Hey, Ms. Maskmaker. Since you can't use magic...

//<Dr. Wrenna slides his sidearm towards Afrastella Maskmaker. She gingerly picks it up and looks at it with confusion. She hurries behind a crate that she crouches down behind and starts inspecting the pistol.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] Vile mortal technology. It'll have to do. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** You're armed, Jas! Tarel'ka?!

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] I DON'T NEED ANYTHING OTHER THAN MY CLAWS. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** Right! I'm going to gather up a few of these shards!

//<The first robot starts to emerge from the crate. He walks towards another crate and rips the lid off. Before it can reach for a potential weapon, Weißenwrachz discharges his sidearm at the robot. It is pushed off balance by the impacts, but doesn't seem damaged by the bullets. Tarel'ka the Gilded charges the robot and tackles it, causing its head to sustain a critical impact. Its visors are rendered dysfunctional.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] YOU LOT KEEP THEM DISTRACTED, I'LL TAKE THEM OUT. [[/span]]

//<The group starts moving through the basement, systematically taking out robotic combatants as they go. By the time they are halfway through the basement, a robot successfully arms itself with a Marshall AR-S4 and fires towards the group who responds by taking cover behind crates.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Fucking-- what now?!

//<Dr. Wrenna and Tarel'ka the Gilded has taken cover behind one crate, while Afrastella Maskmaker and Weißenwrachz have crouched behind another crate on the other side.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] COULDN'T HELP BUT NOTICE SOMETHING, GEORGE-BOY. YOUR FIELD OF DISRUPTION STILL FUNCTIONS. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** Well, maybe! But not-- //surely// not against anti-anomaly weaponry!

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] HOW DO YOU KNOW? DIDN'T YOU SAY THAT NOTHING HAS EVER SUCCESSFULLY HIT YOU. [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** The more we wait, the more the remaining mechanoids arm themselves! We have to do //something//!

**Dr. Wrenna:** How would I know?! I'm holding onto the shards too, that has to--

//<Tarel'ka the Gilded grabs a VLR Raycaster Mk. 6//[[footnote]] **Relevant recording from Marshall, Carter and Dark Refuge weapons store located in Sisimiut, Greenland:**
//"Now, I know what you're saying. This looks like a perfectly ordinary repeater rifle, and you're quite right about its appearance. This is the VLR -- often pronounced as "valor" by hobbyists -- Raycaster Mk. 6 is a very curious gun that uses pretty dated technology. This is due to its key trait; it is capable of having the velocity of its shot increased by the amount of times you cock its lever action. This is also the reason for the scope that is often considered an essential part. This firearm isn't made for combat, it is made for sniping. Its maximum range exceeds mundane weaponry threefold, though it also cannot hold energy forever. It is infamous for accidental discharges when it has been charged up for hours without being fired, in which case you can simply snap the break-action open and release the energy. Standard magazines have eight rounds, recoil-operated and rewards care with deadly precision. It's the demon of the wilderness, an apex predator in urban sniping due to its utter disregard for material it needs to pass through and my preferred hunting rifle, if I must say so myself."// [[/footnote]] //repeating rifle from a crate and slams it into Dr. Wrenna's chest. Its impact is interrupted by Dr. Wrenna's anomaly, still active despite the anti-anomalous circumstances.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] LOOK, THAT THING YOU HAVE. IT REFLECTS YOU PRETTY WELL. YOU'RE CAREFUL, POLITE, NICE. IT KEEPS YOU SAFE, YET YOU DO NOTHING RECKLESS WITH IT. [[/span]]

//<Tarel'ka the Gilded smiles to Dr. Wrenna, revealing all of his canines being made of gold. His eyes are a deep shade of green.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] DON'T YOU EVER GET TIRED OF THIS-- REASON? THIS GENTLE APPROACH TO EVERYTHING? [[/span]]

//<Dr. Wrenna frowns and looks down at the repeater he has been given. He takes it and checks its magazine -- it is full.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] DON'T YOU WANT TO TRY AND BE GREEDY FOR ONCE, GEORGE-BOY? [[/span]]

//<Dr. Wrenna stares ahead. He cocks the lever-action on the rifle and takes a deep breath.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] DON'T YOU WANT TO GO ABSOLUTELY INSANE FOR ONCE? [[/span]]

//<Dr. Wrenna pushes himself to a crouching position.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] DON'T YOU WANT TO SHOW OFF? [[/span]]

//<Dr. Wrenna suddenly stands and spins around on his feet. He fires a round through a robot's chest area, then starts charges the next bullet by pumping the lever-action repeatedly. As he does so, a burst of bullets are fired at him, yet he manages to turn around and let his anomaly abosrb the firepower instead of hitting the gun. Once the rifle is charged again, he takes aim at another robot and hops to the side, so that it covers another robot with its form. He fires the charged rifle and shoots a bullet through two robots.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** Annoying asshole and his gift of invulnerability, help him out!

//<Weißenwrachz reloads his firearm and fires over the crate, prompting Afrastella Maskmaker to do the same. Dr. Wrenna charges the rifle and sprints down the hallway. He lets out a slightly frightened yell as he jumps and leans backwards. His anomaly activates when he'd normally impact with the ground, causing him to be carried down the hall at an increasing velocity until he impacts with a robot's legs, causing them to explode when they'd normally have collided with him. He breaks his velocity by spreading his legs and planting a foot on each sides of the elevator's opening. All of the robots have turned around to face Dr. Wrenna.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** That's right, let's go!

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] HIS EXPRESSION OF CONFIDENCE MAY NEED WORK, BUT THAT'S ABSOLUTELY WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. [[/span]]

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]]  I thought your compelling gaze wouldn't work near dead areas? [[/span]]

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] AH LADY, YOU RELY TOO MUCH ON MAGIC. THAT WAS PURE OBSERVATION AND PERSONAL FRUSTRATION. [[/span]]

//<Tarel'ka the Gilded uses the robots' focus on Dr. Wrenna to charge at one of them and grab it by its waist. He hoists it upwards to catch its ankles and smashes it into another robot that turns around. The remaining five robots turn to fire upon Dr. Wrenna, who's anomalous defense seems to weaken. He starts to panic just before he manages to shoot a robot theough the head, disabling its sights.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Uhh, friends! I might need-- help! The anti-anomalous rocks are starting to do something!

//<Tarel'ka the Gilded rips the head off a robot and tosses it at another. Afrastella Maskmaker and Weißenwrachz have both run out of ammunition.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** I really think-- that--

//<The final robot approaches Dr. Wrenna and converts its fingers into sharpened blades. Dr. Wrenna's anomaly seems to have faded completely. Tarel'ka the Gilded lets out a roar, causing the robot to turn around. As Tarel'ka the Gilded grabs its head, its fingers pierces Tarel'ka the Gilded's heart. He lets out a sharp exhale and pulls the head off the robot, only to forcefully insert it into its chest. It collapses, with its hand being pulled out of the mortal wound it has inflicted. Tarel'ka the Gilded looks down himself and smiles.>//

**Tarel'ka the Gilded:** [[span class="demonG"]] HEH. GUESS I'M ALLOWED OFF THIS CONTRACT EARLY. I'LL HEAD BACK TO THE DUSKLANDS, HAVE FUN. [[/span]]

**<Tarel'ka the Gilded collapses into a dark green dust that slowly deteriorates and disappears. Dr. Wrenna blinks a few times.>**

**Dr. Wrenna:** He's not like--

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] No, unfortunately he is not dead. He has gone home. [[/span]]

//<Weißenwrachz takes a deep breath and starts sprinting towards the elevator with the crate of assault rifles in it.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** We have to go, mourn the aspect of want later!

//<Dr. Wrenna shakes his head and stands up. He looks at the rifle given to him and inspects it. He taps his pockets and notices that they've been filled with extra magazines for it. He grins.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Alright, let's go. Entrance should be clear, given that the thaumaturgic sigil you placed hasn't sounded off, right Maskmaker?

//<Afrastella Maskmaker nods.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Let's move this and torch the place.

//<Weißenwrachz retrieves a belt with incendiary grenades on it. He looks to the two others and nods. Dr. Wrenna swipes the card as Afrastella Maskmaker enters and Weißenwrachz pulls a pin. He tosses the grenade belt into the crate he had found them in as the door closes, and the three ascend out of the basement.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Holy shit.

**<END LOG>**

[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum 9070-5-5:** Dakar report by MTF Alpha-25 "Shadow Wizard M.G."
[[/=]]

-----

Prior to their departure from Dakar, Senegal, Mobile Task Force Alpha-25 "Shadow Wizard M.G." were ordered to write an exhaustive report regarding the circumstances they had observed alongside their expert opinions on current and developing situations. Due to a spike in attacks on European Foundation sites by the Global Occult Coalition, Alpha-25's expertise was needed with counterintelligence efforts surrounding Rome, Italy and the general Iberian Peninsula.

-----

[[div class="file-class" style="border:inset inset outset outset 6px; padding:15px; border-color: #A50104; background-color: #43494C; color: #DFE0E2; border-radius: 6px"]]

[[div style="font-size: 30px; margin-top: -40px"]]
**DAKAR, SENEGAL 03/07/25 REPORT**
[[/div]]

[[div style="font-size: 10px; margin-top: -30px"]]
Written by Cpt. Clara Miller of MTF Alpha-25
[[/div]]

DAKAR presents an unpredictable situation that seems to escalate. SCARLET SOCIETY operatives seem to patrol most of the city in civilian clothing both for recruitment efforts, but seemingly also to establish control of the city. They are inexperienced thaumaturges who specialize in offensive spells, most often exhausting their potential for belligerent capability very quickly. This characteristic has lead to an established mantra within Alpha-25: The best time to neutralize a SCARLET SOCIETY operative is before a fight begins, or 10 seconds after.

The GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION has an auxiliary force present in DAKAR based on observations made by Alpha-25. Given GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION offensives in the Sahel and the Sahara, alongside a lack of strong groups of interest in DAKAR hostile to the GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION, our expert opinion of the GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION is that they've underestimated DAKAR.

THE SERPENT'S HAND appears to be decimated and rendered inoperational in DAKAR due to the effects of SCP-9070. The Ways used by THE SERPENT'S HAND to traverse the globally and interglobally were completely disintegrated by SCP-9070, thus preventing THE SERPENT'S HAND from reinforcing the city. However, global movements have suggested that individual SERPENT'S HAND cells are acting independently, making their movement unpredictable in the wake of SCP-9070. It is equally likely that any SCP-9070 child instance is being targeted by THE SERPENT'S HAND, and as thus there is no suggested course of action at this time regarding this Group of Interest. 

__We estimate a combined presence of 500 individuals hostile to THE FOUNDATION's interest in DAKAR, SENEGAL at this time.__

Secure. Contain. Protect.

[[/div]]

-----

[[=]]
++ **Addendum 9070-5-6:** Dr. Wrenna's task force prepares to establish a Way
[[/=]]

[[=]]
+++* 8 DAYS, 23 HOURS AND 21 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070
[[/=]]

-----

Following Dr. Wrenna's acquirement of armaments and discovery of refined SCP-9070-Gamma shards, the task force set out to prepare for the thaumaturgic procedure that would manifest a Way to the Wanderer's Library. Due to having lost Tarel'ka the Gilded, the task force had deliberated on plausible operations for successfully mobilizing potential Serpent's Hand reinforcements to achieve control of SCP-9070-Gamma.

[[div style="border:solid 3px; padding:15px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]

**<BEGIN LOG>**

//<Dr. Wrenna eyes the wall. A group of civilians pass by, prompting Weißenwrachz to turn around and whistle while he hides his wand behind his back.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] You cannot be serious. [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** What, we're about to die anyways. Might have some fun.

**Dr. Wrenna:** Look, it's 500 people. We have magic and invulnerability.

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] And they may have shards of an obelisk capable of blocking your entire realm out of the fundamental force of nature known as magic. [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** Agreeing with a demon is typically how you know you're on the wrong path, but I do reckon Afrastella has a valid point here. We're easily dealt with, they have access to the most powerful anti-magic material I've ever been near. We don't even have our tough guy anymore. 

//<Dr. Wrenna sighs.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** We'll have Thorstein-- soon. I think. He'll probably know what to do.

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] I doubt it. The man made me practically unable to fly when I carried him from the Southern Icelands, he was so wrought with... Doubt. Anger. I reckon he has abandoned the mission, perhaps sought further inland. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** I highly doubt that.

//<Weißenwrachz snorts and turns around to continue applying a thaumaturgic symbol upon the wall.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** Wouldn't be the first time that a Jailer ran from a situation just because they didn't have absolute control over it...

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] I believe our rate of success in securing the ritual is laughable. We'd need another caster if we were to hurry up the ritual-- well, a caster of the Serpent. [[/span]]

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** What if I told you I had God's angriest woman who keeps wasting magic trying to kill me.

**Dr. Wrenna:** That'd be unusu--

//<Sgt. Vestergaard is holding a paper cone filled with fries. It is unclear when he approached the group, the drone only registered his presence upon him vocalizing.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] How curious. I did not think you so good at sneaking. [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** Nor so insufferably casual about walking up on a quickdraw wandslinger.

**Dr. Wrenna:** Huh, you didn't abandon us. Nice.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Why would I do that? You lot seem to have been busy, I've quite enjoyed seeing GOC operatives disguised as civilians power-walking across the city. I assume you had something to do with that apartment bloc that collapsed.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard offers the paper cone to Dr. Wrenna who accepts a few fries. Afrastella Maskmaker hisses at Sgt. Vestergaard when offered, and Weißenwrachz raises a hand and shakes his head.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Yes.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I assume the fine lady here was responsible for that scheme?

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] Nay. That was that very mortal. [[/span]]

//<Sgt. Vestergaard blinks and eyes Dr. Wrenna up and down.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Huh. Good job. What did you get from it?

//<Dr. Wrenna takes a few more offered fries and eats them while he explains, covering his mouth with his free hand.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Morons are //mining// Gamma.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard scratches his temple. He tries to offer Afrastella Maskmaker the cone again, causing her to frown.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Huh. I don't think the Scarlet Society knows that, according to the bandaged embodiement of rage I finally managed to convince to rest.

**Weißenwrachz:** Huh.

//<Weißenwrachz seems to contemplate something, pausing his ritual. He shrugs and continues it after a 3 second delay.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** The Coalition doesn't tell them? According to the intel I got from Overseer Five's mobile task force, their territories are split along a neutral zone with Gamma in it. How could they possibly not know?

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Well, she doesn't seem that bright, really. Maybe they don't tell their underlings? 

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] Or their group is divided. From what I know of The Gruesome Monarch's cultists, they aren't the most particularly... Organized. Less so than-- [[/span]]

//<Afrastella Maskmaker gestures to Weißenwrachz' emblem on the back of his robe, showing a hand inside an ouroboros. Weißenwrachz doesn't seem to notice.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] --which wouldn't make it surprising that there's a schisms that is... Savorably exploitable. [[/span]]

**Dr. Wrenna:** Huh. Where is this Scarlet cultist?

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I stored her away in a basement of an abandoned grocery store. She shouldn't move that far, her lung is being very intimate with one of her ribs with a wayward attitude. I was making a run for supplies when I saw the most obvious group of underveil individuals in all of West Africa.

**Weißenwrachz:** Pfh. You'll use your vile medication regardless, who cares what they see.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard tries to offer Afrastella Maskmaker the fries again. Due to the nature of her allegiances, she is psionically encouraged to try the fry, given it is an unknown experience for Bherrhir Duskborn. She mutters something under her breath as she consumes a fry.>//

**Dr. Wrenna:** Are we standing out too much, reckon we've been seen?

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** If you haven't, you will before you leave here anyways. What ARE you doing, by the way?

//<Afrastella Maskmaker coughs out the fry and shakes her head.>//

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] Obtaining magicians for our takeover. [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** Wrenna here offered up Dakar to the Serpent's Hand, so...

**Dr. Wrenna:** I mean, that WAS our orders. So, you know, might as well help the Wanderer's Library set up their Way so they can reinforce the city.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Indeed so. Aren't those Ways notoriously easily sensed when they're put down?

**Weißenwrachz:** It is... A feature of the ritual. It is meant to welcome those of the sorcererous ways to partake in the knowledge of the Library. I suppose it is where the ideologies of the Serpent's Hand and the Wanderer's Library is somewhat set apart.

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] You believe in secrecy? [[/span]]

**Weißenwrachz:** I believe in not drawing Executor and Jailer attention because I'm mortal. I suppose The Serpent and librarians have no such concerns. 

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Huh. Seems like our bosses have a lot in common, then.

**Weißenwrachz:** I have no bosses.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard shrugs. He hands off the cone of fries off to Afrastella Maskmaker and crosses his arms. Afrastella Maskmaker groans and brings the cone to her mouth, taking a bite of the fries, causing Dr. Wrenna discomfort upon seeing it.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** I suppose that just mean you are strong enough to be the boss.

**Weißenwrachz:** Yes. I do suppose so.

//<Weißenwrachz tapes a few steps back and eyes the thaumaturgic symbol he has drawn on the wall. He looks to the group.>//

[[=image way.png size="medium"]]

[[=]]

[[div style="margin-top: -10;"]] 
^^//Thaumaturgic symbol allegedly for the creation of a Way. It is believed that this is a personalized ritual that cannot be cast by other individuals, even if it was repeated properly.//^^ 
[[/div]]

[[/=]]

**Weißenwrachz:** All done here. What now?

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Sur--

**Dr. Wrenna:** Let's place down a few more, I say. If it takes us a few minutes to prepare, we might as well throw in some decoys around town.

//<Sgt. Vestergaard purses his lips. He smiles at Dr. Wrenna.>//

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Oh, whoa. Dakar changed you.

**Dr. Wrenna:** ... I guess. Let's get moving, we've stood out enough. Come night, we'll... Well. Get going. Do this. We're four against 500.

**Sgt. Vestergaard:** Lovely! Hope you've acquired some firearms and planted some sabotage, then.

**Weißenwrachz:** Maskmaker has been...

//<Weißenwrachz eyes Afrastella Maskmaker who seems utterly preoccupied with biting mouthful of fries out of the cone.>//

**Weißenwrachz:** Rather useful with different thaumaturgic traps. I think we might have a chance.

**Afrastella Maskmaker:** [[span class="demonB"]] [Muffled] Then let us go. I will need more of these. [[/span]]

//<Afrastella Maskmaker starts walking off while taking bites out of the paper cone. She's followed by Dr. Wrenna and Weißenwrachz who exchange puzzled looks. Sgt. Vestergaard remains in place for a few seconds. He sighs, glances at the sigil and follows the group. The drone's recording flickers for a duration of 2 seconds.>//

**<END LOG>**

[[/div]]

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