Dreams and Dementations

by AShadowOfCygnus

MOSAIC

MOSAIC

966.22.07

Nearly eighth moon, and here I am in the Badlands. The desert stretches away for miles—I can hardly see the Grand Palominos through the haze. How far south did the portal drop me? Vendragon? Anorath?

Old names. Going to have to get used to that—really beyond the borders here. I know those maps were based on superstition more than anything else, but if I HC SVNT a single DRACONES . . .

Curiouser and curiouser, as the saying goes. The briefing, that whole ‘noted for your observancy’ business, and now I’m in a desert with the bare-minimum kit and a field notebook with orders to ‘document exhaustively’. I don’t care how well I scored on those damn tests, you don’t send a big obvious bloke like me out on one-mare recon, royal edict or no.

‘Sides, I get the feeling the Princess didn’t do any of that fancy personal selection on this one; Major made it sound like an at-will op, but there was none of that in the paperwork. Someone in brass recommended my ass.

Steely, probably. Prat. I’ll fix him but good once I’m back, leave a couple of those Everfree spiders in his prissy officer’s slippers.

Whatever—still got a mission here and, from the sound of it, not much time to waste. It’s close to midnight, I’ve got a lot of ground to cover before dawn, and may the Nightmare take my sorry hide before I’m caught dead in the sun in the desert in the middle of summer. Ha!

(Note to self: this is official documentation, old horse. Remember to snip out anything you don’t want going before the Princess. You’re used to keeping journals, and they did say comment at discretion, but don’t get too comfy.)

_______________________________________

966.22.07 (2708)

Recon unit deployed without incident. Chronometer calibrated with control. Portal dispelled and signal dampened as per protocol. No contacts anywhere in the immediate vicinity (open desert, scrub, minimal advantageous cover).

Proceeding to indicated waypoint as of ~2700 (+/- one-to-the-Aught), within mission parameters.

966.22.07 (0035)

Contact report. Desert fauna, single, medium build, canid (?). Reacted aggressively to magelight. Dispatched, corpse immolated within mission parameters.

966.23.07 (0219)

Contact report. Desert fauna, 5x, small build, lagomorph. Startled a nest. Dispatched, corpses immolated within mission parameters.

Addendum: Command, I don’t feel great about blasting the wildlife around here, even if we are operating under Changeling Sanction on this one. Requesting objection to be formally noted in mission log.

966.23.07 (0409)

Objective report. Marigold base sighted from overlook ridge, north-northwest edge of the crater. Unclear given atmospherics/lighting (pre-dawn, ground-hugging fog), but no obvious lighting or signs of activity throughout the complex. Turbines on opposite ridge are quiet, but briefing indicated substantial reserve power capacity.

Security ward in effect around the crater; responded to query/response counter-ward consistent with rotating access schedule provided by command. No sentries in evidence, was not questioned on entry through ward. Ward raised upon entry, in compliance with mission parameters.

Deliberate? No obvious indication the base has been compromised—no evidence of defensive posture or blast-scarring consistent with Changeling magic/Griffon zeppelin barrage.

Addendum: If there’s a word for that kind of low-hanging fog, we need to get it into the ops manuals for reporting on stuff like this, stat. Took way too long to write that out longhoof.

Addendum: Confirmed on descent (0443)—no lights on throughout the complex, no active patrols. Continuing descent.

966.23.07 (0515)

Objective Report: Standing at the doors to Marigold base. No response to scheduled sign-countersign as provided by command. Door appears barred from the inside—unclear what mechanism, no apparent use of wards or similar security spells. Barricaded? Possible that the door has been barricaded. No signs of damage or forced entry.

There continue to be no signs of external struggle. Local food supplies, including fields, appear in pristine condition; insulated sheath consistent with turbine cabling detected in routine scan—good repair. Tool-shed and paddock both clear—no beasts (or recent evidence thereof) in the latter.

Did they all just go inside and lock the door behind them?

Continuing search for alternate entrances or evidence the facility has been compromised.

Addendum: Bunker is reasonably secure; no obvious entrances or exits beyond the main door, as the majority of the facility is underground (?), per briefing. Unless something is built into the walls of the crater, or there’s some sort of auxiliary maintenance access that

Addendum: Access to Marigold achieved by means of ventilation system. As there was no off-switch ready means of deactivating the fans externally, recon team was forced to improvise. Minimal Light Moderate damage to rotary fan resultant from repeated heavy impacts from farming implements and crater-bed sedimentation. Gradually-sloping shaft may serve as adequate escape route in the event that staff require evacuation.

I understand the need for fresh air in a facility like this, but this seems excessive. Recommend data from this operation be used to introduce new security measures in future. Smaller, higher-grade fans? Even distribution around the crater?

Proceeding down shaft, 0603.

Objective Report: Have successfully entered the base by way of maintenance access hatch (junction 4C/II, for those following along on the blueprint) along the central ventilation corridor. Ended up in base technician’s office—empty, pitch-black. Appears power has been cut (?), despite all wiring around the crater—again—appearing to be in pristine shape. Performed all necessary biohazard and toxicity scans before opening the hatch—hermetically sealed, as per the briefing. Everything’s come up clean, but proceeding with the full-face headgear regardless.

Feel like I made a hell of a

Dead silent in here, to go with the pitch-black. Entrance may have been detected; hatch was not well-oiled. Proceeding with an abundance of caution. Will attempt to restore power.

_______________________________________

966.23.07 (0634)

Going to be writing by magic for a bit, as my hooves are busy with the junction-box. Will edit later if need be.

Proceeding by magelight; technician’s office is a mess. Looks like someone went through here with a hatchet—maybe even just teeth and hooves—looking for anything they could tear up. Papers, blueprints, technical manuals, clothing (?), bed, fair few whacks out of the main power coupling. Nothing that can’t be rerouted through the remainder of the wiring.

Denial of information?—too random.

Lot of redundancies in this system, lot of backups—haven’t seen anything like it anywhere else. For benefit of the non-Unicorns on staff? Even the streetlights in Canterlot only operate on a dual-current—

Apologies for the penmareship, there. Something just fell, far distance, possibly other side of the complex. Loud. Filing cabinet, maybe? One of the doors? Unclear, but will investigate. Doing my best to work quietly on this end, but there’s only so much you can do to keep metal and wiring from announcing your presence.

That’s got it. Transformers are coming online—power, lights, some other forms of lab equipment, I’d wager. Briefing mentioned technomancy, called for routine toxicity and biohazard checks, but other than that, the work here is a mystery.

Good to have a bit of background noise, now—electric hum, rumbling transformers, far below. Light, too—electrostatic crystal, now that I get a better look at the fixtures themselves. Designed to run independent of the circuit? How long have the transformers been offline? That—

Contact Report: Equine, Mare, 200+ metres down the corridor. Screaming, panicked. (Not running?) Appears stationary. Moving to investigate.

Scared of the light?

966.23.07 (0802)

Recon unit unable to make contact with staff. Possible contact at distance, though no confirmation. Recon unit has thus far swept the entirety of Marigold Sublevel 1 without further contact. Report to follow.

Observed that door to technician’s office was bolted from outside, possibly indicating dual-security overrides or containment protocols consistent with potential biohazard exposure; likewise, that the base appears to be using cold iron to reinforce its equipment against magical tampering. Nature of the research would have been nice remains unknown. Not strictly within mission parameters, but will proceed to transcribe anything of the research notes that remain intact.

Writing as I walk, now; trying to keep detectable usage to a bare minimum, but I’d rather be mobile than leave myself out in the open while I transcribe.

The base is in chaos; all areas of this sublevel exhibit the same level and pattern of indiscriminate violence as the technician’s closet. Offices, equipment, lab notes—even the crystal fixtures here and there along the halls. Triple-reinforced steel doors have been ripped off their hinges (design note, addendum: add cold iron to those in future designs; obvious weak-point for magical attack), mattresses have been dragged out into the hall and ripped apart, and in the main corridor—as with the junction box—a series of gouges (+/- 3 metres) has been taken out of the reinforced-steel wall.

The gouges themselves are alarming inconsistent with known claw forensics—irregular patterns of three long strokes in horizontal or oblique arrangements. Manticores, timber-wolves, Griffons, and Hydras all have distinctive markers of style, but nothing that would match the fifteen-mare science team recon unit was told to expect.

Proceeding on the assumption that internal security measures have failed, and non-Equine research subjects (?) have breached containment. Will attempt to locate on-site staff on lower levels, as well as any relevant notes.

Addendum: Recon unit confirms that the main door to the complex (steel/cold-iron construction; +/- 1 metre thickness; pneumatic hydraulic) has been rendered fully inaccessible. Staff appear to have piled significant reserves of heavy furniture and equipment against the door in an attempt to block access. Gouges consistent with other areas of the level line the walls and floor, but the door and surrounding plating appear untouched.

Further exploration of the surrounding rooms (security office at entrance?) indicates that the door was operated remotely by security staff, rather than direct manual operation. Variable fluid-pressure (?) lines control pistons that act as a lever against the weight of the door. Magical signature analysis indicates those lines were deliberately severed; between that and the iron insulation, door’s little better than a hunk of metal, now—it’s not going anywhere.

Demonstrates a pattern consistent with an attempt at containment, though not clear why. Only a creature with a considerable measure of intelligence—and no small amount of fine motor control—could operate the lock from this office.

Did they expect staff to turn on them?

No security log in evidence; office is in the same condition as much of the rest of the sublevel. Quantities of white ash found scattered amongst the detritus; cursory analysis indicates wood-pulp composition, consistent with burnt paper.

Recon unit proceeding with caution; evidence appears to indicate that staff may be compromised. Biochemical/magical agent possible—maintaining exposure protocols and beginning low-level magical sweeps.

966.23.07 (0843)

Recon Unit proceeding to Sublevel 2 of 5 by way of central stairway.

_______________________________________

Sublevel 2 swept and cleared, 0901. Appears to have been the dormitory level; beds and desks in side-rooms, additional furniture consistent with materials dragged upstairs to barricade the main entrance. Similar levels of destruction as upstairs; torn clothes, the occasional smashed piece of wooden furniture. More gouges—magically reactive, on further examination, but no recognisable signature or spellcraft.

Sublevel laid out in a rough X, dissimilar from those above and below. Ceiling of southern leg has collapsed. Mechanism unclear; area is suffused with magical signatures, but impossible to distinguish everyday horn usage from deliberate sabotage in these concentrations.

No survivors or definitive remains; however, noted bloodstains of varying size in rooms 2-3, 2-4, 2-18, and 2-26; spatter analysis indicates significant trauma involved in 2-3 and 2-18 (significant pooling on the floor, half again as much thrown up onto the walls); a body was dragged from 2-3, though the trail ends abruptly halfway down the corridor.

In 2-4, a series of smaller—though not insubstantial—droplets leads from the bed to the closet; significant spacing between droplets suggests high speed of the action. Door to said closet has been ripped off its hinges. Torn clothes litter the floor; some small amount of blood on one set, but nothing consistent with major trauma noted above.

2-26 is the last room in the southern corridor before the collapse. Similar to 2-3 and 2-18, bloodstains indicate a body (victim?) was dragged into the corridor beyond the collapse. Active scan of area beyond the collapse (+/- 15 metres) returned no active biological or magical signatures; the collapse affected the entirety of that wing of the facility. Trace biological residue beneath the debris, ~6 metres down the corridor; composition indeterminate, continuing threat indeterminate.

Addendum: Recon unit discovered a few framed photos here and there amongst the detritus; may help with identification of survivors/recognisable casualties.

Have considered raising personal wards, but combination of uncertainty regarding the nature of the adversary and presumed experience on the part of staff and guards attending

966.23.07 (0901)

I’m standing at the stairs leading down to Sublevel 3. The crystals provided sporadic illumination on the first two levels, but down there there’s nothing. Total darkness. Not even the benefit of a bloodstain to confirm whether

Recon unit encountered a nonspecific feeling of malaise at the top of the stairs leading to Sublevel 3, likely the result of deliberate warding or psychostatic imprinting by the recently deceased. Magical signatures in evidence, but as before, no way to distinguish between nonspecific and targeted usage in this atmosphere. No evidence of tangible magical manifestation beyond the aforementioned.

Why the HELL didn’t they send a larger team?

_______________________________________


966.23.07 (0915 0922)

Recon unit proceeding to Sublevel 3.

Partial magic-dampening field appears to be in effect on Sublevel 3, possibly corollary to the warding encountered at the stairwell. Magelight was snuffed immediately on exiting the stairwell, but a quick Nighteye spell seems to be working fine, as is field-assisted writing. Proceeding unhindered.

Sublevel 3 in a similar state of disrepair as 1 and 2—worse, in places. More claw-marks (?), more demolished furniture and equipment. This appears to have been a research level at one point—however, impossible to determine from the scattered components what any of this might have been. Lot of torn-up magitech, from the look of it: shattered crystal, glass, mechanical components, and a kind of fine-wired micro-mechanical clockwork I can’t identify.

Research team appears to have been running a lot of power down here, though—electrical cables are bundled five or six times as thick on the walls as they were on either of the upstairs levels, all concentrated on a couple of specific rooms. Proceeding to—

Contact Report; Another disturbance, this time directly below me. As before, a metal table or filing cabinet was disturbed, possibly fallen or thrown. Possible biological component, based on the tenor of the sound. Will investigate once sweep of this floor is complete.

Majority of cables run into two rooms on opposite sides of the main corridor; appear to be in better condition than the majority of the first two levels of the facility. Hardened? Significant magical signatures here.

Left-hand room contains a series of hatches along one wall and workbenches autopsy tables (obvious on closer inspection; most are clean, but the drainage systems are unmistakable). Looks like a morgue. No bodies on the tables, nor in any of the accessible hatches. Some glass-fronted cabinets that look to have contained books or journals of some sort, but the whole unit has been burnt. Definitely some kind of denial-of-information in play.

Right-hand room is different, though equally—bizarrely—well-preserved. Other than an upended table in one corner of the room, and a large glass-fronted shelving unit, there’s what appears to be a large, cylindrical glass unit of some kind along one wall, built into some kind of platform. More of that strange fine-mesh mechanical componentry scattered around, too—looks to have been ripped out of the guts of some kind of engine or control station adjacent.

Nothing appears operational.

Also noting a large number of alchemical reagents scattered on the floor in front of the shelving unit, along with all the necessary accoutrement: alembics, crucibles, retorts. Noting willow bark, moonroot, poppy, cherryfeather, peppermint sprigs in particular. Analgesic/anaesthetic usage?

Objective Report: Discovered two bodies behind the table—looks to have been a makeshift barricade. Early stages of decomposition; mask must’ve spared me the smell. Cause of death appears to be lacerations to the anterior laryngeal region—scalpel lying next to them fits the damage profile. Magical signature on the hilt matches the stallion’s horn.

They’re holding each other. Wh

Taking cover behind the barricade. Something just ran down the main corridor at full tilt. Hooves, but the cadence was . . . wrong. And the breathing. I don’t know how to describe it.

It’s reached the stairs, but it’s not moving.

Moving to investigate as best able while avoiding detection. Never been more glad for rubber soles.

Contact Report: Unicorn mare, young—not a filly, but pre-middle age. Obvious symptoms of trauma—ruined clothing (labcoat?), mange (mane + fur), field-aura fluctuations, ragged breathing, hysteria. Coat was scabbed over in places, clearly soaking wet, beyond what would be normal to anticipate outside standard sweat. (Cantrip? Deliberate?) Observed for +/- 30 seconds, at <10 metres, but did not engage. Tagging as High-Value Individual 1.

Subject behaviour was erratic. Constantly moving, even if just to shiver; head on a swivel, even without outside stimulus—seemed particularly focused on the walls, ceilings. (Expecting an ambush? But why the walls?) Likewise, can clearly tell she’s constantly muttering, but no detectable sound, even to low-level vibration sweep.

Eyes were the strangest part, though—she’s not using Nighteye, but her pupils were blown to the point you couldn’t even make out the original colour; the irises were completely swallowed in black.

I feel for the poor girl, but if this is the same one that screamed earlier, then there’s something else at play here. She’s terrified of something—presumably whatever slaughtered half the science team on level two. Until I’ve dealt with that, I don’t want to run the risk of her alerting . . . whatever it is in a panic and getting us both killed.

Or beaning me over the head and nibbling on my corpse. I’m not discounting the possibility she’s the responsible party. One bad day, a lab accident, coupled with pre-existing instability—else biological agent, potentially explaining the sopping-wet coat—fever-sweat. Too many unknowns, but that would go a ways to explaining the sabotage upstairs. Contingencies there revolved around a thinking creature.

She’s retreated to the upper level for now (flinched noticeably when she passed through the psychostatic field at the top of the stairs). Leaving her be until the remainder of the facility has been secured.

Objective Report: Had to step out into the hall to better track HVI-1. Returned to complete examination of the corpses—may have to redact report. Decomposition appears comparatively more advanced than first draft implies.

966.23.07 (0953)

Recon Unit proceeding to Sublevel 4, nominally lowest level of the facility. Darkness consistent with Sublevel 3; appears that all lights below Sublevel 2 have been deliberately disabled or destroyed.

Have moved through several large rooms of unknown purpose since descending the stairs; Sublevel 4 appears to be four or five times larger than 3, larger than even the dormitory level, and nowhere near as linear. Broken equipment blocks a variety of doors—only items recognisable are the odd phonograph arrangement behind shattered glass, and a wide assortment of shattered crystal. Lab equipment, but nothing as obvious nor as surgical as the bay upstairs.

It’s wet down here, as well; moisture in the air, pools on some of the flooring. The blueprints weren’t particularly clear on this point, but there were a few notes regarding some kind of aquifer in the vicinity of the plant. The shear stress from some of these gouges must be putting pressure on a load-bearing column somewhere, else punched through enough rock to permit seepage.

You’d think it’d have to be practically on top of us, or else just big enough to exert a lot of pressure, but I’m no geologist.

Empty room after empty room—overturned tables, chairs, workstations. No bodies. Been keeping an eye out as I write, but there’s nothing.

Contact Report: Indistinct whispering, possibly psychostatic.

Occasional metal groans/shrieks (?) in the distance. I have followed the clearest path through the sublevel for at least twenty minutes; still have not reached a terminus or loopback. Must be well under the mountain by now; metal must be under incredible strain beneath all this rock. How excavated? Existing tunnels?

At least two rooms are consistent in structure and format with holding cells—sparse, recognisable bedframes, two-way glass, off the central hall.

Still haven’t found one damned diary or experimental log amongst the detritus, and no bodies after the two upstairs. Come on, guys—you didn’t think to transcribe your thoughts for my personal convenience as you were running from the monsters?

Whispers are getting louder.

_______________________________________

1038—entering large, two-storey room after substantial loopback—far end of ring (partial?) from entrance? Observation room overlooking the main floor, no obvious entrance. Two-way glass, again. Metal panelling here is warped (?), especially around the large ceramic (?) plate in the centre of the room, mirrored in the ceiling. Odd disbursement pattern—not uniform.

Doubling back to check hallway.

Located the entrance behind a false panel in the metal wall. Shrieked terribly as I forced it open, but it swings freely now. Closed and secured as best able behind me. Narrow stairs up, pivot right into observation room.

Dear C

Objective Report: Recon Unit located two, possibly three bodies in the observation room. Evidence of significant They’ve been torn apart—positive identification not possible—but not clear that there’s enough here to reconstruct three complete ponies No damage to surrounding structure, or evidence of warping as below. Almost as if they just up and

Something is coming. Big, lone, probably our killer. Must’ve heard the door—two-way glass should let me obs

Obe

Objective Report: Science team They’ve been absor Recon unit reports all remaining members of research team KIA by means of unknown biological agent. Nonretrievable, potentially epizootic.

Let the record show that this agent has, being of due sound mind, in due course determined, per Article XI, Section 3.A.I of Her Majesty’s Operational Codex, I’m blowing the facility.

Slipped out through the door when I thought it wasn’t

It can smell me, it knows had to double back through too many rooms lost it near its lair can’t find a way down to the transformers trying to move carefully knowing at any point that thing could come barrelling through a wall or wreckage or the floor or

There has to be a door. Floor grating? Maintenance tunnels? Access ports. THiNK

1200 HoW did I lose so much time?

Below Sublevel 4. Transformers are close, lights are on. Thing’s still stomping around upstairs looking for me. And the WHISPERS

I’m safe, for now. Didn’t see me drop into the ducts. How am I

If that was the thing they were working on, if it broke containment, what the name of Tirek’s red right hand was the research here supposed to accomplish. Rogue? Accident? Exceeded orders? Can’t have been deliberate, not with how many of them ended up melted into its

Celestia, wrap me in your wings.

I’ve staggered to a four-way, down here in the maintenance shafts. Gives me a moment to rest, look over the blueprints. Left, transformers; right, cave-in; ahead—some kind of repository or storage tank. Not labelled on the map. There’s a door, just ahead, though, so there must’ve been some need for access.
Doesn’t explain the golden light, of course. Joy of joys(!). Warm, inviting. Mage-light, or holiday candles.

Has to be a trap. Don’t know what else it could be—delusion? Mask still in place, so unless absorbed through the skin, there shouldn’t be any hallucinogen exposure to speak of. But after what I saw upstairs . . . how sopping-wet my fur . . .

Whispers are voice now. Warm, sweet. Sugary. Don’t like it but have to listen. Head hurts. But can’t let this not transcribe

Hooves dragging me down the corridor. Don’t want to, but

I’m opening the door.

_______________________________________

[On the facing page, opposite the last entry, is a crude, shaded-pencil drawing. It appears to be a fractal, angular; almost crystalline set of geometries, flowing and bouncing into one another in ever-shifting patterns; lines change halfway through a stroke, and the chaotic, rudimentary shading is obvious meant to convey an overwhelming sense of colour. Viewed from a distance, it might almost describe a face; or, just as easily, a multitude, bleeding and blending into one another at odd angles and intersections points.

The faces—if that is indeed what they are—are uniform in one key respect: they are enraptured.]

Objective Repot

To all the hind-bred

Dear Sons-of-Bitches

Oh, to the cold HELLS with it. I’m activating the recall rune before the bleeding or the fever (?) gets worse.

“Mosaic”. It describes a pattern, tiles, repeating. Harmony, a grand tableau. It’s the future, the touchstone, the ineffable clarity of a pattern we all fit into, our little sliver of glass meshing in light to form a masterful rendition of the whole. She wasn’t wrong about that.

I don’t know if I wrote that because she’s in my head, or if I’m just flat-out delirious. No, she wasn’t wrong about that, nor is Harmony. Our Harmony, the choice to love, to join, to become part of something larger than yourself. But gods old and new, not like this.

I made my decision, and she didn’t really care for it much. Whatever she may say about not controlling those . . . things, they didn’t waste any time to come screaming out of the walls. One of them opened up my leg—the gash is still burning, and Celestia knows what it—

At least I made it to the transformers. Did the old Ghost Trick—sent a phantom double back toward the stairs, shrouded best I was able, split off the double and ran to maintenance. Sergeant Deacon was always bitching about misdirection in boot, but this is one time the old goat was onto something.

I don’t know if they found the girl. They were howling their way up the stairs, so she had plenty of warning. I expect the transformers blowing would be a kindness compared to what they’ll do.

I figured out who she reminded me of, by the way. Been way too long since I wrote my sister in Hoofwich. Make sure she gets a copy of the notice. Not much of a last request, I know, but I’ll get my pound of flesh when I come back to haunt the asses of anypony that knew this was a one-way trip.

See you Yak-fuckers soon.

[Addendum/Command: later Pegasus flyover confirms crater collapse + creation of caldera in line with sunken-earth contingency CS-10039. Aquifer burst within expected parameters; extant geothermal pressure sufficient to collapse underground structures, fill remainder of crater not collapsed by remote explosive.]

[Per royal edict, caldera to be named in attending operative’s honour (see future ref. ‘Blacklight Crater’) once official cartography teams penetrate the region; estimated time to survey, 40 +/- 5 years. Colonisation/settling efforts to be delayed, 500 +/- 50 years thereafter, with additional efforts taken at regular intervals to scour the lakebed for any remaining magical residue.]

[End of file.]