- [Lord Theodore] May 14th, 1883. I received a most curious
missive in the post this morning. It has been four months
since I returned to England, having nearly lost my life in endeavoring to become the first
man to reach the summit of the foreboding and
deadly Mount Everest. I have spent the time since in research and recovery here in London, nursing my wounds and
documenting my memoirs of the harrowing trip up the mountain and my nearly fatal encounter
with a creature I found there and have not planned to embark
again for distant shores until after summer has passed. That has changed, I fear, as
the result of today's letter. - [Author Of Letter] To Lord
Theodore Thomas Blackwood, CBE; Colonel Joseph D'Enfante, l'Armee de Terre of the Republic of France,
does hereby cordially invite you to participate in the hunt of a great and terrible creature that threatens the lives of thousands. The Tarasque, a creature
great and terrifying, of late believed to be legend, has risen and threatens
the security of the land of Provence and France itself. Colonel D'Efante has been authorized by the President of the Republic to pay a sum of five
million English pounds to the man or men who shall
slay this infamous beast. - [Lord Theodore] I immediately
dashed off an acceptance and sent it out with the afternoon post. I have always been a firm believer in the proposition that even in the most preposterous of myths, there
lies a kernel of truth. Whether an ancient
behemoth that breathes fire was bringing ruination to the
south of France, I knew not, but I knew that the army and the president themselves were concerned enough to seek out a man such as myself and were willing to offer a bounty that would finance a score
of proper expeditions for the killing of a single beast. May 20th, 1883. We disembarked in Avignon. Mr. Roosevelt and I spent many hours sharing our tales of adventure. I find in him a true intellectual who understands what it
means to be a naturalist. Mr. Dukov I found more
difficult to talk to. He is a private man
who prefers the company of his books and his studies
to that of his fellows. I did my best to avoid speaking to Mr. Harris during the trip. I intend during our expedition to be no less than a gentleman, but the man leaves a
sour taste in my mouth. May 21st, 1883. Avignon itself looked like a city at war. Soldiers patrolling the streets, barricades at the edge of town. Not far outside the city, we reached the edge of
the quarantine zone. Soldiers had been hard at work digging trenches, erecting fortifications. The young men keeping watch
looked battle-scarred, as though they had seen
indescribable horror. I asked on passing if any of them had yet seen the Tarasque. Only a few, the scouts and lookouts, had seen it from a distance, I was told, for nobody who had engaged the beast at close range was still alive. We set up camp on the
edge of the dead town. Mr. Harris returned by evening and informed us he had
spotted the Tarasque to the southwest, near the village of Bellegarde, in the act of destroying a farmhouse. Its route, he said, had not
been difficult to trace, for a swath of barren land
seemed to lay a trail. Even the grass itself was not safe from the Tarasque's wrath. Tomorrow we will follow the
trail and engage the beast. May 22nd, 1883. Shortly after midday, we spotted the creature in the distance. It was stationary, seeming to nap in the afternoon sun. It was a massive thing, longer than a whale and
taller than a giraffe, and it looked to outweigh either. Its scales glistened in the sun, and its teeth, massive and shining, were bared as it rested among
the chaos it had wrought. Had it wings, I would
have called it a dragon. With our weapons in tow, we
stealthily approached the beast to a range of less than 30 meters. We drew straws, and it was agreed I would take the first
shot at the abomination. Steadying my gun against the fence, I took careful aim for the
sleeping Tarasque's head. I held my breath, made my
final adjustment, and fired. (gunshot) We watched with delight as the top of the Tarasque's
head was shorn clean off. The beast slumped to the ground, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Harris let out a cheer, and
the dead beast came to life. Mr. Roosevelt and Mr.
Harris barely had time to fire a round each at the beast before we were forced to scatter. We watched in horror as the wounds it took sealed themselves within seconds. We were able to allude the Goliath, and by nightfall we
were among the soldiers at the barricade, our prides injured, but
otherwise in good health. May 28th, 1883. After our second attempt
to attack the Tarasque on the 23rd proved no more
successful than the first, we have come to a conclusion
that the beast cannot be killed simply by gunshot or electrification
or setting it aflame, for the rate at which it
heals its injuries is so great and its tolerance for pain
and mutilation so high, that even the mighty
broadsides of the Royal Navy would have little chance of destroying it before it could take their lives in trade. To slay the Tarasque, we determined, we would have to immobilize it and deal such destruction upon it that it would be utterly annihilated before it could free itself. We prepared our trap in
the fields near Graveson, a village between Tarascon and Avignon that the Tarasque had yet to lay waste to. We had judged that the
beast stood about nine feet at the shoulder, six feet
wide, and 30 feet long. We dug a long trench in the field, wide and long enough to contain the beast, and deep enough to stop
the beast climbing loose before the damage could be done. In the bottom of the pit,
we mounted steel rods, sharpened to a fine
point, by the hundreds, each tipped with a noxious poison I had acquired in the Orient. Mr. Roosevelt has agreed to act as bait. He will approach the Tarasque on horseback and attack it with his elephant gun. Once it gives chase, he
will lure it to the pit. Providence withstanding, nothing shall be left of the creature but ash and bone by sundown tomorrow. May 29th, 1883. Success! The plan went off without a hitch. It was afternoon before Mr. Roosevelt could coerce the Tarasque
into pursuing him, but surely enough, the reptilian
behemoth fell into the pit, impaled upon the spikes. Messrs. Dukov, Harris, and I,
lying in wait out of sight, joined Mr. Roosevelt at the pit's edge and unleashed the full fury
of our armaments onto it, our rifles and shotguns,
the particle destabilizer, Mr. Dukov's electric rifle,
and the pitchblende gun. The monster let loose a screech from the pits of damnation itself as bullets and explosives tore
its flesh loose bit by bit and jellied kerosene burned
slowly and stopped it regrowing. By the time the fires had died down, a charred skeleton was all that remained. We have separated the
beast's massive skull, blackened and perforated, from
what remains of the monster, and a handful of soldiers are hard at work filling in the pit with earth. Tomorrow we shall bring
the skull back to Avignon and collect our reward. May 30th, 1883. We were hailed as heroes by the army when we arrived in Avignon with our prize. In the morning light, the Tarasque's skull seemed whiter than it
had the night before, and more charred flesh stuck
to it than it had seemed when we dragged it from the pit, though surely it was little
more than an illusion. The four of us posed for photographs, and Mr. Dukov asked to
have his photograph taken with his head in between the massive jaws of our fallen prey. Imagine our horror when
the jaws snapped shut, severing Dukov's head
neatly at the shoulders. The skull of the Tarasque
rolled loose from its place on the stage and snapped again, taking another chunk of his body, and the soldiers screamed and fainted as it seemed to be growing
a new coating of flesh and scales over its charred exterior. We watched, shocked, as the honor guards fired a volley at the skull. The chips it took off
seemed to replace themselves instantly, and I was
dumbfounded as sinew and muscle seemed to spread across
the creature's bones and knit into shape. The jaws of the disembodied
Tarasque opened, and it shouted in French. [Tarasque] Vous me rendez malade. [Lord Theodore] The rest of the Tarasque, covered in earth and grime, held together by a few
lonely strands of muscle, lurched through the
square with uncanny speed, trampling men in its path, ignoring gunshot and cannon fire as it made to rejoin its head. Mr. Roosevelt and I had no
desire to see what happened next. We retreated into the vault as a blinding light filled the square and a blistering wind, mightier than the
hurricanes of the Caribbean, slammed the door shut
and sealed us within. June 13th, 1883. Providence smiled upon
us after all, in the end. On the morning of the 1st,
the vault door opened, and I regarded a major of the army and a company of men
searching for survivors. At least ten thousand were incinerated when Avignon was consumed by flame. Even those who had survived, I learned, have been burned or blinded,
and pitchblende-fever will likely claim many of them in time. We were two of only a handful of witnesses to one of the greatest disasters to strike France in recent memory, and having been at the center of it all, the army regarded us with great suspicion. Mr. Roosevelt and I parted ways in Calais. He intends to return to
America, he informed me, and pursue a political career. In that, I wish him well. (doorknob turning) I returned to my house
in London this afternoon and was informed by Deeds that a postcard had arrived for me this morning. The handwriting in the
brief unsigned note within resembled that of the strange Englishman who had attended the questionings, whose notes I caught brief
glimpses of from time to time. I present that message below. [Author Of Letter] To Lord
Theodore Thomas Blackwood, CBE; The Royal Foundation for
the Security, Containment, and Protection of Anomalous
Objects and Phantasmagoria requests a meeting for
the purpose of negotiating an alliance favourable
to both our parties. Please call any time (excepting Sundays) at No. 19 Marylebone Road, Westminster, and ask to speak to Doctor Thursday. Your discretion is
requested in this matter. [Lord Theodore] I have not
heard of this Foundation before, and I do not know if I
intend to take them up on their mysterious overture. Perhaps I shall hear them out, but I have never been one to serve in one man's employ for very long, and I value my freedom as a naturalist and explorer above all else. We shall see.
Yeah I'm pretty shocked too, it's like they themselves are an anomaly, able to appear out of the blue and post great content.
Who are they? Just asking for later
I found them a few days ago
Its made by a kind of well known guy called craig
The channel isn't voiced or drawn but was created by Cory from NewScapePro, someone I used to watch back then, he did his own SCP Stories but in Minecraft to visualize them
Can I get a link my friends?
Edit: Im extra dumb never mind.
Channel link: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC8pmIe5FjmYlwP0Uf2dyQXQ