An Anthropological Approach to Sarkicism - Case Study 02: The Divoši of Prague
An Anthropological Approach to Sarkicism
Dr. Matthieu Desmarais, Department of Anthropology
Forward:
Our understanding of Sarkicism has changed dramatically over the last few decades. This information has revealed a diverse and shifting paradigm far different from the monolithic creed first hypothesized. We are now able to paint a broader, more detailed picture of the Sarkic religion, its various sects and cultural traditions.
Modern sects are the product of divergent interpretations, many bearing a mere superficial resemblance to their ancient progenitor cult. Most unexpected, especially among early scholars of Sarkicism such as myself, are the seemingly benevolent intentions of its founders. The road to hell, it is often said, is paved with good intentions - an aphorism the Foundation must always keep close in mind, for despite the aeons between us, we gaze into that very same abyss.
And like the ancient Sarkites, we have found it full of monsters.
Dr. Desmarais, at great risk to himself, seeks to better understand Sarkicism and its ever shifting paradigm through the study of living communities - revealing what ruins, artifacts, and the dead cannot. Though his methods are unorthodox (at least for the Foundation), his results are undeniable and deserving of continued support.
Dr. Judith Low, Senior Adviser at the Department of History - Religious GoI Threat Analysis.
CASE STUDY 02: The Divoši of Prague
A collective condominium owned and inhabited by Divoši.
Overview:
The Divoši (derived from Slavic "divoch", meaning heathen or savage) are a crypto-Sarkic people inhabiting Central Europe. My research has ultimately led me to Prague, capital of the Czech Republic and home to a community of urban dwelling Divoši. Blood libels, expulsions, forced conversions, and massacres - the history of the Divoši is one marked by persecution. Such incidents has rendered them a stoic and grim people, suspicious of outsiders even by Sarkic standards. They have suffered much to maintain their secrets and earning their trust will be difficult.
History:
The Divoši came to this region following the Sarkic Diaspora between 1200-1000 BCE. Following the fall of the Adí-üm, the followers of Sarkicism were scattered throughout Eurasia; isolated and decentralized, this event is believed to be the principle cause for the immense diversity among Sarkic cults and culture groups.
The Divoši initially settled in the Rhineland, living in relative peace among Germanic and Slavic tribes until the Christianization of the region by Charlemagne during the late 700s CE. Like their pagan kin, they were the victims of forced conversion and exile. Throughout the Middle Ages, they were accused of heresy and/or witchcraft and burned at the stake. By the Early Modern Period, they endured pogroms alongside Roma and Jews despite having no discernible relationship to either. By the 1600s, surviving Divoši had resettled in Bohemia and Moravia - finding tolerance among the Czech people.
Like others who previously found a safe haven in Prague, they would ultimately suffer vast casualties during the German occupation of Czechoslovakia between 1938 and 1945. Records provided by the Divoši indicate a population of approximately 12,000 throughout Europe at the start of the 20th century; by 1945, they had been reduced to around 600 individuals. It is believed that their people only escaped total eradication when their anomalous nature was recognized by the Ahnenerbe Obskurakorps, though these survivors were forced to undergo human experimentation.
The Foundation first encountered the Divoši as test subjects at Eisenblut, a top-secret Nazi science facility located near the then recently liberated Theresienstadt concentration camp. A bargain was struck with their leader, the Karcist Nakiakken (SCP-████), which resulted in the unusual amount of freedom enjoyed by these Sarkites despite being technically under Foundation control. Karcist Nakiakken was able to achieve this by accepting containment without resistance and the promise of its cooperation, though the details of this agreement are presently classified and only available to authorized Project: Sitra Achra personnel. Dr. Judith Low, a senior member of the project, has informed me that the Foundation initially refused to comply with the offer and attempted to act against the Divoši people. Though she was not authorized to divulge the details of what occurred, it does appear that Karcist Nakiakken had several contingency plans in place to ensure cooperation - leaving the Foundation with no choice but negotiation.
Culture, Tradition, and Misconceptions:
The Divoši refer to their religion as The Sin-Eater's Church, though recognize Nälkä as the spiritual guidelines of their faith. Efforts to externally disguise their religion and culture have inadvertently resulted in syncretic changes to internal traditions and beliefs (i.e. both esoteric and exoteric traditions and beliefs have developed into an amalgam of Abrahamic, Pagan, and Sarkic influences). Examples of this include the presence of "saints" (svatých) which do not fit under traditional Sarkic hagiography, choosing not to limit their reverence to strictly the Grand Karcist and his Klavigar.
A fresco depicting Saint Antal (left) and Saint Imanta (right).
Such saints include:
- Saint Antal, The Thrice Returned - Patron of resurrection, metamorphosis, and the protection of children.
- Saint Biellá, The Devourer of Godsmen - Patron of soldiers (particularly defenders of the faith), self-sacrifice, and defiance against the gods and their earthly agents.
- Saint Joŋgu, The Poison Moon - Patron of medicine, alchemy, and healers.
- Saint Imanta, The Shepherdess of Flesh - Patron of midwives, surgeons, butchers, and the art of fleshcrafting.
- Saint Milan, The Red Hook of Mercy - Patron of righteous assassins, executioners, and other enforcers of justice.
- Saint Szabolcs, The Ashen One - Patron of fair law and good governance.
- Saint Uksáhkká, The Worm of Midnight - Patron of outcasts, the impoverished, and the diseased.
- Saint Yrathas, The Unbroken - Patron of craftsmen and the triumph of endurance over drudgery.
Divoši practice social seclusion and self-segregation. Most civilians are unaware of the Divoši and those that are do not appear to know of their aberrant nature. Though the Divoši primarily achieve this via anomalous methods, such minor anomalies ultimately serve the Foundation through the preservation of normalcy. Such anomalies are designed to alter how they are perceived by outsiders, causing the Divoši and their homes/temples to appear especially unremarkable and easily forgotten or ignored. This effect is traditionally accomplished through the use of bio-chemical solutions (known as németh) and antimemetic cognitohazardous symbols (known as ūrma), with such symbols being painted on Divoši structures or tattooed upon individuals.
The use of ūrma is especially noteworthy, as these are able to render received information resistant to memory. For example, if a subject looks at an alleyway, that information is transferred from the eyes to the brain without complication; but if there is a certain ūrma painted or engraved within view of the alleyway's entrance, the subject will look and that information will be perceived but fail to translate to the brain; the human mind does not deal well with such gaps of information and will instead attempt to fill it in with whatever is most likely based on the rest of the environment. Testing this, the Foundation was able to determine that most will merely perceive a wall, dense vegetation, and in one instance, a police barricade. Ürma can be employed to make doors seemingly disappear, render an individual indistinguishable, or to hide the presence of written words, among other uses. The Divoši credit Klavigar Nadox with the invention of ūrma.
Law is of singular importance to the Divoši and the Sin-Eater's Church concerns itself with these matters on a level comparable to Judaism and Islam. A cursory glance would suggest little difference between Sarkic law and the secular/religious laws of public society. Murder is forbidden, so is rape, theft, and assault - but like other cultures and religions, these seemingly straight forward prohibitions are subject to interpretation. Some of the more specific laws include:
- "Thou shalt consume the flesh raw, touched neither by flame nor luxury"
- "Honor thy Prophet, Devourer of All Sin, and never speak His Name in vain."
- "Thou shalt awaken the senses, prying wide thy third-eye; thou shalt not seal thyself from Truth through inebriation."
- "Thou shalt eschew decadence in all its forms."
- "Thou shalt enforce the ways of jaka; inaction to evil is evil in itself."
The Divoši are not a welcoming people, but this is not unexpected given their history and practices. It is only through the Foundation, and its various agreements and threats, that I am able to study these people - and this certainly does not endear them to my mission. Interviews were difficult to procure but not impossible, having found some success reaching out to the younger generations.
Interviewed: Zdeňka Slováčková
Interviewer: Dr. Matthieu Desmarais
Foreword: Ms. Slováčková (b. 1991) is a woman presently employed at a Divoši-owned butcher's shop and delicatessen. I approached her while she enjoyed a smoke break, identifying myself as a member of the Foundation.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Desmarais: Hello, Ms. Slováčková. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?
Zdeňka Slováčková: Ask your questions, outsider.
Dr. Desmarais: Are you an active member of the Sin-Eater's Church?
Zdeňka Slováčková: Yeah. [Subject takes a drag from her cigarette and exhales; the odor of cloves is strong] I lend my voice to the chanters. Help teach the sone to the young bloods.
Dr. Desmarais: Very good. Have you always been with the Church?
Zdeňka Slováčková: [Subject appears perplexed] You're either born to the faith or you're not. There is no other way.
Dr. Desmarais: Right, I was aware of that. Allow me to rephrase that. Have you always been so close to the Church?
Zdeňka Slováčková: Ah. That makes more sense. My faith has wavered in the past but I feel it has been renewed in recent years.
Dr. Desmarais: Oh? Why did it waver?
Zdeňka Slováčková: [Subject shrugs] Youthful rebellion, mostly. Unlike our rural kin, it's hard to escape the influence of outsiders. In my want for my own identity, I forgot the importance of preserving who we are. Assimilation is our people's greatest enemy.
Dr. Desmarais: Youthful rebellion - how did you go about that?
Zdeňka Slováčková: Vegan diet, listening to straight edge Christian punk rock - by the Prophet, it was embarrassing. Eh, not sure how much any of that related to my skepticism. Wasn't like I actually considered worshiping the Christ God. Was more about pissing off my parents. Maybe it was my faith in the Church that wavered, not so much its truth - you know? The old rituals, the chanting, it can get pretty boring as a kid.
Dr. Desmarais: Has any other religion appealed to you? Don't worry. Not trying to convert you or anything. Just curious.
Zdeňka Slováčková: Uh… Buddhists, I guess? They seem to have the same goal. The Buddha is a lot like the Ozi̮rmok. Well, that's how it read to me. Never actually met one.
Dr. Desmarais: But your faith is strong now. How did that come about?
Zdeňka Slováčková: My sister never doubted. Her faith was truly unshakable. She was beautiful too - blessed by Lovataar herself. We weren't close. I was jealous, my heart blackened with the vile envy of a Daeva. I know this now.
Three years ago, someone took her away. No, I shouldn't sanitize the truth - that's the way of the God-fearing. [Subject spits on the ground] They raped her, tore her apart, but she went down fighting. The bastards left her in an alley, next to the garbage. Our fleshcrafters couldn't save her; maybe if we had our Karcist. [Subject glares]
Dr. Desmarais: I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do.
Zdeňka Slováčková: Words are meaningless. They won't bring her back. But when I saw her broken body, I found my faith reignited - and I understood the ancient teachings with newfound clarity. Saarn becomes me and my sister will soon be avenged.
Dr. Desmarais: Avenged?
Zdeňka Slováčková: Never forgive, never forget. We tracked down those beasts and in a few days they will face the Judgment.
Dr. Desmarais: I'm sorry but I doubt the Foundation would allow it. Not unless I can convince them otherwise. Perhaps this can be negotiated? I am not authorized to make such arrangements but I could make a request. Based on what little I know about the "Judgement", it could be a most educational opportunity.
Zdeňka Slováčková: These are our secrets, our traditions, and you outsiders have no place in them. But if you truly believe that they would deny us, then… [Subject hesitates] Please, do what you can. My sister, she needs this - it is our sacred duty to see this through.
<End Log>
Afterword: While our duty is to the preservation of normalcy, this has never stopped us from learning from anomalies in a controlled setting. Much remains unknown about Sarkic rituals and we won't have such a chance with other sects. What we learn from this may even help us prevent similar anomalies in the future. The Divoši have hidden these practices for generations, thus I have no doubt that it can be conducted clandestinely. Though it may seem ghoulish, I do believe that allowing this ritual to proceed will be for the greater good, potentially leading to breakthroughs in how to best contain and/or terminate hostile Sarkic cultists and their anomalies.
A formal request for authorization was approved by the O5 Council under the following conditions:
- Event is to be overseen by Project Sitra Achra.
- Captives held by the Divoši are to be classified as D-Class personnel.
- Security is to be provided by MTF Psi-9 ("Abyss Gazers").
- Anomalies/anomalous phenomena are not allowed beyond the designated ritual site.
- Ritual site is to be installed with audio/video recording devices.
- In the likely event of anomalous corporeal generation or transmutation, tissue samples are to be secured and delivered to Foundation personnel.
- Majority of personnel are to observe the ritual indirectly, through the use of live video feed with a thirty second delay (a defense measure against possible cognitohazards).
Official reports can be retrieved upon request but certain files require Level 3 clearance or higher. The following represents my personal observations and opinions of the event, partially redacted as required by the O5 Council.
Our guide led us by lantern light through nameless alleyways and hidden roads. The local architecture was old, possibly medieval and long forgotten by the rest of the city - a testament to the subtle power of the ūrma. I caught fleeting glimpses of malformed figures in the shadows and could not escape the feeling of being watched. "They are the Guardians," our guide informed us. "Bring violence to this place and you will know them well." A chill fog rolled in and engulfed the area in darkness; still, we followed the lantern light.
The environment grew increasingly exotic with each twist and turn of that urban labyrinth. Creeping tendrils of flesh climbed brick walls like ivy, sporting luminescent pustules at meter length intervals. Buildings appeared warped, displaying crooked doorways and spiraled rooftops. The further we traveled, the more the structures resisted their very own geometry. It reminded me of a certain Foundation mathematician who once told me that such dimensional anomalies tend to "loathe a right-angle". Upward pointing pikes surrounded us, displaying the impaled remains of historical foes. Among the dead I see the rusted armor of knights, the ragged robes of inquisitors, and the uniforms of Ahnenerbe Obskurakorps field operatives. A grim reminder to behave ourselves while in Divoši territory.
Our destination proved to be the source of that obfuscating mist, which effused from its chimneys like so much factory smog. Outside of this abnormality, the building otherwise resembled a Catholic cathedral (albeit one utterly bereft of any Christian iconography). The walls displayed a singular texture almost organic in nature, like something out of a Beksiński painting. I wondered to myself if the church had been built through standard artifice or if it had been somehow *shaped* into its current appearance.
And such questions allowed an especially disconcerting thought to enter my already anxious mind: was the church, in fact, alive? I pondered this possibility, along with its numerous dread implications, all while unconsciously following the others inside.
A great ribcage held up the ceiling, supported by pillars of bone resembling the femur of some mythic behemoth. Hovering overhead was a heart, human in shape but of impossible size. A cathedral of flesh and bone; I thought it might be decorative - or that was at least what I tried to convince myself. I received an answer to all my questions the moment I heard that colossal heart beat, the noise reverberating throughout the temple.
A woman clad in leather took me by the hand and ushered me to the front. I remain unsure if this was an honor or if they were merely sick of my prying, as what I ultimately witnessed would dissuade most from further study. The sight of security personnel failed to make me feel any safer but they, and the various video cameras and researchers, at least added some familiarity to an otherwise alien location.
A man stood at the center of the chamber; he was an imposing figure, over 2 meters tall with at least 200 kg of muscle. He wore the traditional attire of a flesh-shaper, resembling a stained butcher's apron over a crudely stitched leather kilt. His body was painted (or tattooed) with a number of Sarkic runes and he carried an immense cleaver (the cleaver appears to lack a proper hilt and its wielder's hands are bloody and scarred as a result). He wore a mask (or helmet, as it does appear to cover the entirety of his head) resembling a rust-covered medieval torture device, which dug into the flesh and left his upper body soaked in blood.
A woman entered the ritual site. Like her male counterpart, she wore the bare-chested attire of a flesh-shaper but instead carried a sickle. A bone mask covered the lower half of her face, resembling the jaws and teeth of an unknown predator and giving her a somewhat lupine appearance (though the teeth seemed more akin to those of a shark; odd considering the landlocked nature of the Czech Republic). Her hair had been braided through the hollows of vertebrae, perhaps an aesthetic leftover of their tribal past.
She was followed by another flesh-shaper - a thin, almost cadaverous fellow of indeterminate sex. They carried a spear resembling some sort of chitinous spike and wore a distorted, asymmetrical mask, which appeared to be ejecting tendrils from its grossly gaping maw.
The torchs that lit the chamber were suddenly extinguished and were slowly replaced by the queerly violet bioluminescence of thin organic threads dangling from the ceiling. This new light revealed the true depths of the structure which descended down into a seemingly bottomless pit. Hanging over the chasm were numerous clay human effigies, though too small to contain an actual adult human. They were suspended in the air by those same creeping tendrils witnessed earlier, which wrapped around the "throats" of each effigy like a noose. Their purpose would remain unknown until the end of the ceremony.
Three individuals, all clearly bruised and beaten, were led to the center and chained to a pillar of bones. The three included two men and one women; all were nude and had Sarkic runes carved into their flesh. Much of the following information was provided to me after the ritual had ended.
The first (from left to right of my vantage point) was an overweight male carved with a rune meaning "polluted devourer" and another rune meaning "defiler of autonomy" but augmented to express that said "defiler" targeted children. The prisoner was later identified as 54 year old Petr B███, a wealthy heir to ███████████, a lucrative financial company. Though he had been accused multiple times of sexual violence against children (including his own), he was able to avoid prison through the exploitation of a technicality by his legal team. He disappeared several weeks ago, presumably having fled the country under a false identity. To my surprise, none of his actions were committed against Divoši individuals but they felt his "Judgement" necessary.
The second was an attractive woman carved with runes meaning "oath-breaker", "serpent's venom" and "Daeva's vanity". She was later identified as 30 year old Klára L████████, a model and former escort infamously known as a "black widow" for the possible murder of three husbands and five stepchildren. Though suspected of being involved in the other deaths, she was only on trial for the murder of her latest husband along with two young stepdaughters. She was found not guilty due to lack of evidence. It was later discovered that she had been having an affair with her own prosecutor, who had significant evidence of her guilt but refused to use it. She disappeared several months ago, shortly after buying plane two tickets bound for the USA. Like the previous subject, her crimes had nothing to do with the Divoši.
The last was a young male carved with runes meaning "defiler of autonomy", "ripper of flesh", and "Archon's Cruelty". He was later identified as 22 year old Jakub P████, a man with a long and violent criminal history. More importantly, he was the one responsible for the rape and murder of Ms. Slováčková's sister. His body language seemed oddly defiant, considering his current circumstances.
The female fleshshaper began to recite in Adytite, pointing at their prisoners as she unveiled their litany of crimes. The thin fleshshaper thrust their spear into the bloated belly of the leftmost captive, causing him to scream like a stuck pig. The crowd began to chant, bellowing a low and guttural noise. The large fleshshaper raised his cleaver, repeatedly shouting "Ke nok k'trol!" or something similarly unintelligible.
The skewered captive's abdomen increased dramatically in size before rupturing and spewing forth entrails that moved of their own volition, coiling around the other captives like a voracious python. What was once the anus was now mouth full of serrated teeth. The female flesh-shaper turned to the center captive and proceeded to slowly carve off the woman's face. I could hardly hear all the screams beneath the endless droning of the chanters and the sharp, visceral shouts of the ritualists.
The cleaver fell, slicing the rightmost captive in half, yet despite the mounting damage among the captives, they all appeared quite alive and fully aware of what was happening to them. The entrails force themselves down the center captive's throat, which burst through the other end and proceeded to enter the gaping wound where the rightmost captive's genitals used to be - weaving all three together from within and without. The flesh-shapers sliced and cleaved and penetrated - and their victims, the guilty, the JUDGED, began to appear as though they were merging together.
How were they still alive? It was beyond anything I had ever seen before.
The grotesque performance became too much for me and I began to retch; I stumbled from my seat, my hands and knees on the blood slick floor as I vomited. I take some comfort in my knowledge that I was not the only researcher to end up incapacitated by the sights and sounds of that living nightmare; even security personnel appeared ill prepared for what ultimately transpired. The flesh-shapers handed their tools to a number of approaching assistants and then proceeded to bury their hands deep into the screaming mass, causing it to stretch and shrink, tear and repair, before my very eyes.
And this is when the ritual became truly surreal. The mound of living flesh exploded into a mass of tendrils and bone expelling orifices. That horrible thing reacted to the motions of the ritualists, fusing the three and molding them into a new, increasingly degenerate form.
I vomited again and lost consciousness. When I awoke, I beheld the fruit of their terrible craft. I never should have agreed to this. I expected maybe an execution but this? This was truly beyond the pale.
It had no mouth with which to eat or, more appropriate to the situation, scream. It was weak and impotent; a deplorable and utterly feeble creature. Worms had more dignity than that trembling, pitiable thing. I wanted to crush it beneath my boots, put it out of its misery, but the ritualists had other plans in mind. With a flick of their wrist, the thin flesh-shaper beckoned one of the effigy carrying tendrils, which lowered its prize. The female flesh-shaper pulled a cork from a hole in the clay effigy's top, causing a number of writhing maggot-like creatures to attempt and fail escape. The large flesh-shaper lifted up their newest creation and disposed of it within the effigy, trapping it with the rest of its kind. The cork was replaced and the tendril returned the effigy to its original location, where they have no doubt remained for hundreds of years.
By the number of jars, there may be thousands of them. It would be merciful to burn them all. These pathetic, helpless things were once murderers and rapists - people whose only nature was to spread suffering. Are the same people still inside those pitiable forms - three atrocious minds, forced to forever share a single, miserable body? To punish the wicked, the Sarkites have created a corporeal hell.
I cannot look at the Divoši the same way after that ordeal and I fear this will harm my impartiality in any future dealings. Was this justice? My liberal educated mind says no but am I, from my place of privilege and comfort, really able to judge them so harshly? I will mediate on this but it is unlikely that I will ever find a satisfying answer.
Having observed the "Judgement", I decided it best to enjoy a hiatus from my research. My sabbatical was interrupted by a special request sent to me by Dr. Tomoko Muso. As it turned out, Dr. Muso was merely the messenger and the request came from her ward, SCP-████ - also known as Karcist Nakiakken, the securely contained leader of the Divoši. I would travel to Humanoid Containment Site-486 in Germany to meet with this entity.
Karcist Nakiakken, artist unknown (C. 1640).
Interviewed: Karcist Nakiakken (SCP-████)
Interviewer: Dr. Matthieu Desmarais
Foreword: Though I've studied Sarkicism for nearly a decade, this is to be my first encounter with an actual Karcist. The subject is held within a Psi-resistant humanoid containment cell and we are to communicate via intercom. Subject resembles their portrait, though said portrait failed to capture their lower half, which appears structurally serpentine but pale and scaleless like the rest of its body. The subject appears to have four cadaverous arms of considerable length and include appropriately large hands (each palm tattooed with a stylistic humanoid eye) equipped with six long, spindly fingers. They are wearing an orange jumpsuit customized for their inhuman anatomy. Their face displays no discernible emotion prior to the start of the interview.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Desmarais: Karcist Nakiakken, it is an honor to meet you.
Karcist Nakiakken: Is it? [It is at this time that I felt something prying within my mind] You are not well. The Judgment has left you haunted. Tell me, how does it make you feel? You must have questions. (A second voice spoke but I felt it from within: "Questions whose answers you fear to learn.")
Dr. Desmarais: I… [I hesitated, stunned that his ability could reach outside his containment unit] Why? Your people could have simply executed them. It would be over with and they'd never be able to hurt another. I don't even support the death penalty but it would be better than an eternity as those creatures. They won't die, will they?
Karcist Nakiakken: The powerful and the cruel must be… cut down to size? Is that how that phrase goes? And why would we return them to the cycle, when they have yet to learn remorse? We give them a form and place that limits all but thought. And we grant them a spark of our power, for they will live forever. But if they learn remorse… remorse for their countless atrocities… then they can return and we will teach them what it is to be righteous.
Dr. Desmarais: Do you mean they could transform, return to human? Do you have any evidence?
Karcist Nakiakken: We stripped from them their humanity. But the Shepherds sacrificed their blood to their designs. The Judged contain the essence of the Old Blood and through the ways of Nadox, we have created a lock whose key is repentance. ("Drain sin from the veins, scourge evil from the flesh, obliterate the tumors of arrogance, greed, and cruelty…") [Visceral images of cancerous flesh and infected wounds assault my mind]
Dr. Desmarais: Has anyone returned?
Karcist Nakiakken: I know of only three. Many hundreds have been judged but only three underwent metamorphosis and returned to us as human - one was a bandit, another a tyrant, while the last burned "witches". Perhaps the others will in time but these three redeemed required centuries. ("The caterpillar struggles within the cocoon; not all will break free and transcend…") [I begin to see moths or butterflies floating in the peripheries of my vision - after a few seconds to burst into flames and disappear completely]
Dr. Desmarais: And what of the evil you inflict? What I beheld was sadistic. It was torture, plain and simple.
Karcist Nakiakken: There is no malice in the Judgment. Without knowing suffering, one cannot know empathy - without empathy, they will never find redemption. ("Take off your mask. Reveal your true face…") [I quickly grabbed my face, suddenly feeling as though it was sliding off]
Dr. Desmarais: You're monsters. [This was entirely unprofessional and I fully apologize for my actions]
Karcist Nakiakken: Such naivety. ("Such foolishness…") [My vision began to blur and distort]
Dr. Desmarais: Get out of my head.
Karcist Nakiakken: I am not your enemy, Dr. Desmarais. I simply desire your honesty. You have limited knowledge of the Foundation. Let us say that our 'monsters' pale in comparison to the horrors your associates have unleashed upon the world. ("Ah, but always for the greater good… that is what they repeat, letting it wash over them again and again… a simple self-deception to sleep so much better at night…")[I saw a mountain of corpses; the dead wore orange jumpsuits, presumably D-class personnel]
Dr. Desmarais: You have no proof. Why should I believe you?
Karcist Nakiakken: [DATA EXPUNGED]
Dr. Desmarais: I've had enough of this. I apologize if my words caused you offense but if you want to wish to speak again, you need to show some restraint. I want to understand your culture and beliefs, I really do, and I assumed that was why you desired to see me.
Karcist Nakiakken: [DATA EXPUNGED]
Dr. Desmarais: Please, someone amplify the psi inhibitors and get me out of here.
<End Log>
Afterward: I had hoped for a different experience. I am far away from Site-486 and, hopefully, far enough from their reach. Having time to reflect, should I be surprised that an entity we've caged for decades hates us so? I was told information. Information I wasn't meant to know. The Foundation saw fit to remove that knowledge. A necessary action for the greater good. Let it be known that I continue to believe in our mission and that the subject failed to dissuade me from our great work.
Reflecting on my previous interview with SCP-████, I could not help but feel that it was I who initiated hostilities. The added stress of SCP-████'s unique manner of communication combined with the disturbing memories of the Judgment rendered me psychologically unfit for the interview. I have communicated with SCP-████ via a number of letters and we have agreed to a second interview. The Karcist ultimately has information that I will not be able to obtain anywhere else.
Interviewed: Karcist Nakiakken (SCP-████)
Interviewer: Dr. Matthieu Desmarais
Foreword: My second interview with the subject, hopefully resulting in a more fortuitous outcome.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Desmarais: Hello, Karcist Nakiakken. A few basic questions first. When were you born and under what name?
Karcist Nakiakken: I was born to the name Alberich in 764 CE, according to the calendar of your people.
Dr. Desmarais: Were you born in Prague?
Karcist Nakiakken: Nay. I was born to a village in the Black Forest, within the borders of what is now Germany. ("Charles the Butcher… King of Godsmen… Sword of Archons… My village razed… I still taste the ashes! My family fills my lungs!") [Though I know it was an illusion, I could actually smell the odor of burning bodies and feel the heat of the flames - an empathic anomaly?]
Dr. Desmarais: I'm sorry. I had not intention of-
Karcist Nakiakken: [Subject interrupts] No apology is necessary. It is all ancient history… [Subject places one of his hands over his face and forehead] The few that survived lived as refugees. Our Karcist sacrificed herself so that we might live. I was her student while she learned under Nadox himself… ("How I envied her… To learn at the feet of a Klavigar - and Nadox, greatest of them all… the Prophet's most trusted…")
Dr. Desmarais: Your teacher. What was she like?
Karcist Nakiakken: Karcist Viekudh was wise, kind, and charismatic. A skilled diplomat, she aided the Saxons in the creation of the Irminsul and earned their alliance until they too fell to the Butcher. [I saw the defiled temple in the back of my mind - was it truly anomalous? And in what manner? Without it, the Saxons fell - they would bend to the Cross or perish]
Dr. Desmarais: "Godsmen" carries a pejorative connotation to you and your people, but the pagans certainly worshiped gods as well yet you appear to regard them in a positive light.
Karcist Nakiakken: And we disagreed with their faith but there was respect between our people - they had no desire to convert us to their way. ("Or to set us aflame!") It is the nature of Godsmen to convert or destroy all non-believers. ("Blood and obedience to feed the Outer Horrors… A cosmic tragedy for all eternity…") [I felt a sudden, overwhelming dread, though it was not accompanied by any images or sensations]
Dr. Desmarais: That is a despairing view of the universe.
Karcist Nakiakken: Such is reality. ("Death feeds the altar… Death feeds the Beasts… And digests our souls until nothing remains…")
Dr. Desmarais: When your people came to Prague, were they welcomed?
Karcist Nakiakken: Indifference was the only welcome we desired and, for the most part, that is what we received. The Bohemians are an irreligious people. Though ignorant of our true reality, we respect their defiance.
Dr. Desmarais: But there were other Godsmen, weren't there?
Karcist Nakiakken: Always outsiders. Hunters of witches and heathens. Though my power was great, we suffered losses. I could not protect them all. ("I used their bones to build my church…") And later, Hitler's paladins…
Dr. Desmarais: Do you regard the Nazis as Godsmen? While most were Christian, I do not believe they killed in the name of religion.
Karcist Nakiakken: Most do not notice the machinations that guide them. To create such a sacrifice… I see no other purpose in it. ("The Outer Horrors lead with an invisible hand… their evil beyond comprehension…") [The feeling of dread returned, more powerful than before]
Dr. Desmarais: Did you ever befriend or associate with non-Divoši?
Karcist Nakiakken: Yes.
Dr. Desmarais: That is somewhat of a surprise, considering the lengths your people have gone to remain hidden. Who were these individuals?
Karcist Nakiakken: Mr. Dee and Sir Kelly came to see me. ("I nearly devoured them…") Such gall, to divine my location! Ah, but we parted as friends. They were eager students but I did not teach them all our secrets…
Dr. Desmarais: Anyone else?
Karcist Nakiakken: There is one. Though I love my children, they regard me in such a way that it renders honest conversation difficult. I have no desire to be praised and pampered.
Dr. Desmarais: Go on.
Karcist Nakiakken: His name was Judah. A child of Abraham and the leading rabbi of Prague, he was known to his people as The Maharal. Much like Dee and Kelley, he was a seeker of truth… ("Ever eager to unravel the infinite mysteries…") A philosopher and a mystic following the path of knowledge, wherever it took him…
Dr. Desmarais: You miss him.
Karcist Nakiakken: Yes. ("A wound that never heals…") We were kindred spirits. He was eager to understand the nature of life, hoping to replicate it. He ignored much of my advice, assured in his belief that the flesh was the domain of his "god"; still, he had hoped to achieve similar with more basic matter. How proud he was of his creation, that golem… ("But clay… so inefficient… so inferior…") Though I know not what became of it. [The dread subsided and was replaced by melancholy]
Dr. Desmarais: The Golem of Prague? It is a famous legend. But I assumed it was only a legend. There is a statue of its creator at city hall. Judah Loew… ben something or another.
Karcist Nakiakken: Judah Loew ben Bezalel. I have visited the statue many times, through the eyes of others. I offered him a chance at immortality but the fool was stubborn. He told me he was ready to meet his maker. ("No one is ready… Not if they knew the true depths of oblivion…")
Dr. Desmarais: Death comes for us all in the end.
Karcist Nakiakken: But it need not be that way. ("The cycle can be broken… The wheel can be shattered…")
Dr. Desmarais: But how? How are some of your kind able to achieve this?
Karcist Nakiakken: The Great Work is not achieved through obtaining immortality… The Great Work is achieved through tearing mortality from the flesh.
Dr. Desmarais: Those sound the same to me.
Karcist Nakiakken: Mortality is not a necessary aspect of life - it is a curse, forcibly woven into the essence.
Dr. Desmarais: Essence?
Karcist Nakiakken: Your kind calls them genes. The Outer Horrors do not wish their children to rival them, for we are destined for the altar. ("And thus, a curse of doom… a curse of ending… a fail-safe to ensure that all are devoured…") But my deathless nature cannot protect me from the end of all things.
Dr. Desmarais: What is that?
Karcist Nakiakken: It is not my desire to reveal the full nature of our faith to you. Though I admire your hunger for knowledge, you know only a fraction of our truth. Being witness to the Judgement has done you a disservice, biasing your opinions towards the old conclusions of your predecessors. We are not a "flesh cult" - ("Yes, the term repeats within your mind, over and over…") The Flesh is but a tool - a divine curse we have learned to conquer and control. ("…a dagger turned from the sacrifice towards the heart of its wielder…")
Dr. Desmarais: Is there something we should be worried about?
Karcist Nakiakken: I have said enough. I politely ask that you take your leave of this place.
Dr. Desmarais: I will respect your request. Thank you for your time.
<End Log>
Afterward: As I left Site-486, I was overcome by a terrible headache, followed by dizziness and the sudden loss of consciousness. I awoke to find myself at the Site's medical ward and a memory implanted within my mind. There is something important buried beneath the Black Forest of Germany; something Karcist Nakiakken wants me to find but could not tell me directly for reasons unknown. Clearly I would report this to the Foundation, so it wasn't as if he feared the Foundation learning this information.
So if not the Foundation, who? Who or what does the Karcist fear?
With this newfound information, I traveled to Germany with a team of Foundation archaeologists. After several days of digging we discovered the ruins of a village employing a distinct bone-based architecture. Skeletal remains were found as well, along with a significant amount of ashes and charred debris. It was concluded that the location had been the site of a massacre and that the village had been intentionally razed.
Abnormal remains were discovered among the dead, displaying both humanoid and cervine traits, along with other mutations indicative of a Karcist. The bones were held together by oily black substance with the consistency and adhesiveness of firm tar, preserving the shape and pose of the body at their time of death. The body was positioned on its knees with its head low and its arms wrapped around an unknown object. The remains were exhumed and delivered to Site-282 for autopsy, leading to the discovery of number of rusted arrowheads and sword blades lodged in the body.
It has been hypothesized that these remains belong to the late Karcist Viekudh, who according to Divoši records was murdered by Christian soldiers presumably under the orders of Charlemagne in 774 CE. A stone puzzle box was extracted from the remains, something that the Karcist presumably died while protecting. Sarkic puzzle boxes have been discovered before at archaeological sites and among the private collections of Neo-Sarkic cultists and are considered extremely dangerous due to the presence of anomalous traps, triggered by failed attempts.
Fortunately, these deterrents (normally the release of chemical or biological agents) were designed to infect living organisms and have no impact on inorganic materials. This has allowed the Foundation to solve the puzzle box via a remotely controlled machine in a sterilized and sealed environment. The puzzle box was found to contain the following:
- A bone flute: Object appears to be non-anomalous and was likely secured within the container for sentimental reasons. Listeners have described music produced by this instrument as "somber" and "hauntingly beautiful."
- A golden sickle: The Roman historian Tacitus reported that golden sickles were used in Druidic rituals. As Sarkic weapons and tools are traditionally crafted from bone and similarly tough organic materials, it is hypothesized that the golden sickle was a gift, possibly from the Saxons.
- A wicker doll: Object appears to be non-anomalous. Similar to the flute, it is hypothesized that the object was of sentimental value.
- The Black Forest Codices: The codices are a collection of thirteen ancient scrolls written in an unknown language whose symbols regularly change shape through some anomalous means. Though the script is unfamiliar to the Foundation, it employs several symbols encountered in both Sarkic and Daevite writing systems. The scrolls are crafted from the hide of an unknown animal and have been dated to approximately 1100 BCE; analysis of the ink suggests that it is primarily, if not entirely composed of blood. Efforts to translate the Black Forest Codices have coincided with a number of anomalous incidents and they have since been reclassified as SCP-████. Many of these scrolls contain the Seal of Nadox.
- The Doom-Song of Karcist Viekudh: A scroll inscribed with the writings of Karcist Viekudh. The document has been dated to approximately 600 CE. It has been translated from Late Adytite and provided below:
A symbol or perhaps a stylistic representation of a real object or entity depicted in the scroll. Dr. Low has theorized that it is an artistic rendering of an Archon or "Old God", malevolent deities that play a major role in Sarkic mythology.
I: Sone Juksi
Darkness came to me and whispered,
"Death is thy familiar"
I declared this a falsehood
And proclaimed before Darkness
The True Name of the Prophet,
For Death held no dominion over my [heart/spirit]
And Darkness laughed,
And took me by the hand
To guide my way through the Forest of [Spears/Impalement]
And into the Swamp of Forgotten Things
Until the waters became clear
And without impurity.
And Darkness said,
"Look upon these waters"
Thus I gazed upon their surface
And in my reflection I found decay,
Flayed of Skin and carved of Flesh
And my Skull anointed with sacred oil.
And Darkness held my face to the sky,
Where I beheld six red stars aligned
In the most abominable of omens;
And I fell to my knees in anguish
As I turned again to face the Darkness,
In fear of this dread portent.
And darkness shed its shadow skin
And began to consummate
And consume [itself];
From the Blood and Seed
Of this defiance of Nature,
The Grand Karcist was reborn.
And He said unto me,
"See as I have, my child,
Through eyes unbound by the shackles of time"
And the Prophet tore the eyes from His skull
And placed them within mine,
So that I might know His Truth.
And I beheld my kindred
Hanging lifeless from the killing tree
Immolated by blasphemous flame;
And beneath this atrocity there resided
A Stranger wrapped in the fantastic colors
Of their tattered robe and mantle.
A heavy hood and golden crown beshadowed
All aspects save gray lips curled
[Into] a deceiver's poisoned grin,
Revealing a visage of decay
And three venom soaked tongues,
Writhing to the rhythm of a distant drum.
My limbs refused to heed my call,
Allowing me neither the paths of predator or prey
And if the Stranger held dominion over these bones;
I remember the foreboding scent
Of burning flesh and wicker,
As my soul was set aflame.
Leaving naught but oblivion
And the ceaseless disharmony of that hated drum.
II: Sone Saarasaati
Oblivion pulled me close
And whispered in my ear,
Prying old memories from the depths
Of my fragile and half-mad mind
And I remembered a curious tale,
Older than the Archons.
How unfortunate is the ken of man,
Unable to relate to the cosmos and planes,
Save through the simplest of allegories;
Though perhaps this is a mercy,
For man is a bestial creature,
Far too similar to its Blind Progenitor.
The tale itself is inscribed within the Blood
And tells the story of Nature
And her rape at the hands of Chaos;
Her womb defiled by his disease,
She would give birth to a stillborn universe,
A failed and fallen creation.
Her offspring scream for a mother who will not answer,
Consumed by hunger unending.
III: Sone Sodasika
I awaken to a familiar world,
Bound to an unfamiliar eon
Governed by smoke and metal,
Like that of the Brazen Men of long concluded wars;
And still I heard that ceaseless rhythm
Like the drums of a warmonger's charge.
The power of the gods has been seized
But it has been turned upon their own
And thus the many fall for worthless glory
Among the mud and excrement;
A feast for the corpse-eaters
To satisfy the desires of tyrants.
And all throughout there does persist
The mad rhythm of that terrible drum
As I watch iron beasts adapt and evolve
Among ever shifting battlefields;
A yellow miasma suffocates and blisters,
As profane fire rains from the sky.
I called for any who would hear me,
Demanding to know the purpose behind such bloodshed,
And the Grand Karcist appeared before me
And revealed unto me a most abominable truth,
"The world is an altar and each death is a sacrifice
To the Ravenous Gods of Suffering and Pain."
And He once again took me by the hand,
Guiding my way through fields of fire and bone,
And to the top of a mountain of corpses;
Despite the horrors of the world below
The stars were beautiful that night
And the Grand Karcist directed my gaze towards the Worm of Midnight
And I saw that which was once hidden,
Beholding a great rift where not a single star did exist
And to my horror, I saw the darkness expand,
A long shadow cast across the cosmos,
An unspeakable cancer,
Until every last light had died.
And it was here that I remembered
The ominous words of Nadox,
Who warned that the coming of the Archons would be presaged,
Not by the moon and stars,
But by the festering of the Void,
Cold and black and infinite.
And a deluge of visions flooded my mind
Of shattered worlds and devoured races,
Violence and perversion beyond man's comprehension,
Across the cosmos and all realities and every iteration;
Seed-time was over,
The Harvest had begun.
I see no more, for I am blind
In the face of such hopelessness.
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