SCP: The Unforseen Variable

Bruised beaten and bleeding I found my feet swept up from under me and a stinging pain emenating from my back. Begore I could find myself eating a mouthful of dirt in addition to my meal from earlier I rolled to the left as a wodden sword embedded itself in the ground. The offender, the still armoured honour guardsmen, loomed above stone faced as they spoke. "Should that have been steel you would be at best paralyzed and at worst dead, again." Their voice was gruff, commanding, unabating and directly told anyone who heard it that they brokered no shit.

My training thus far had gone terribly. Despite my abnormal strength, advanced mind and inherited muscle memory I wasn't a tenth of the swordsman of the man in front of me. At best I could block and at worst find myself disarmed and whooped before 10 seconds had passed. All of which happening while they carried a much heavier weight than myself.

I began getting up as I spoke. "It would seem that the physicians inadequacy in-"

"Don't make up excuses, unless that damn doctor made you lose your memories, you're forgetting, it makes sense considering how long it's been since you've been on the battlefield. Don't worry I'll whip you up to shape." He grabbed my arm and yanked me up, pointed at a dummy and said with a toothy grin, "Swing your sword."

Nooding I moved over, spread out my legs one left in the front and right in the back as I sw-

"WRONG! WHAT ARE YOU A PANSY? BEND THOSE KNEES, WE'RE SWINGING A SWORD NOT DOING WOODWORK! HOLY FUCK ARE YOU A DALCOP!? HANDS, APART, FROM, EACHOTHER, I'VE SEEN 5 YEAR OLDS SWING STICKS WITH BETTER FORM."

Safe to say it wasn't going as well as I hoped. I initially imagined that the boost to my physical form and muscle memory would be able to help me, but I was sorely mistaken. Although I could bat the guardsmens sword around they'd either keep their distance until I slipped up, or parry my swing before pressing the advantage and come in for their own. Instincts was not enough when faced by a vastly more skilled oponent. The rest of the day went much the same as I found myself repeatedly beaten in both of the senses, but nonetheless improved, miniscule though my gains where. After I affirmed to seriously work to improve myself.

Day after day I'd read in the study grasping at the basics of etiquette so as not to cause a diplomatic incident. In all honesty I hadn't needed to as "my" previous station as a knight already labelled me as barbarous and uncouth in many nobles eyes. That however was temporary as if I where to become the king of Brittany the way I acted would have to mirror that.

During the week my failures stopped being as atrocious. I lasted several seconds more on average, and every once in a while would be able to create openings in . However I knew that was derived from more surperior physicality than skill, and despite those openings existing Argent, as I came to know his name, was faster and vastly outskilled myself, making the openings more for show than something to be capitalised on. That was especially true as they had started to create fake openings to goad me into attacking and would rub it in with remarks in the style of, "Are you blind as you are amateurish?"

During said week he learned and decided to capitalize on the fact that my "illness" left me unable to feel pain unless I wished too. Argent although cautious at first, most likely worried about pushing me too hard, slowly increased the exercises I did to an insane degree. Capitalizing on the fact that what should have been a serious case of muscle fatigue and an eventual body shutdown rather seemed to strengthen me instead. With this discovery we moved onto more strenous exercises meant to stretch and work multiple muscle groups, or that's how I intepereted "Now if you do this you'll find a clenching feeling up multiple places."

Although Argent focused on exercising after his initial assesment he slowly moved onto more practical application. How to hold a sword, stances, general gaps in armour and how to block. I hadn't even swung a weapon until he thought I wouldn't forget the basics.

The second week was much the same as the first, building muscle, getting tutored on sword fighting, studying how not to embarass myself, and oddly enough a rather odd runour spreading around. The guardsmen seemed more on edge, the servants whispered to each other when no one was looking and a few looked afraid. Finally done with this unneeded panic I yanked a passing servant and brought them to the side.

"What in bloody hell is happening?"

"My-y duke, I-um, there's been cases of people going missing and appearing in random rooms knocked out." The servant stammered out. This us rather concerning as someone could be probing the keep for weaknesses. Wanting to learn more I pressed.

"Continue, I doubt that is the last of what you know.

The seevant swallowed, "Only f-few recount having been struck by something from behind, a-and some servants have sworn they've heard footsteps about the keep, but when turn towards the noise they see nothing. More and more are finding themselves seemingly appearing in rooms, it's almost as if we've been cursed! S-sorry for my outburst my duke."

This clearly wasn't hostile action. If it was they're dumber and more spineless than the boy in front of me. There's a difference between probing the defenses of a compound and just knocking people out for the hell of it, if they where hostile they'd most likely kill at least one of them to avoid detection. It was most likely that shade upoing the training of the fanatics to get some practical experience. If anything I saw it as a positive as it might give the servants and guardsmen some experience in counter-espionage.

Looking at the servant who had been staring at me with a hopeful look in his eye I spoke. "It seems they are averse to killing, perhaps the thing is refreshing their craft."

The servant stilled as my works sunk in and quickly sauntered off.

Continuing onward with my walk I decided to take a detour, I needed somewhat of a break and I've grown tired with having to practice the mannerisms of a posh noble posturing to seem sophisticated. I understood the need and importance of such things, didn't mean I'd like it. As I trekked about the keep I wondered about the possible technology I could attempt to bring in. I didn't exactly have a degree, or was educated enough to create something from scratch but in these consitions, but that was the purpose of scientists right, to take ideas and see if they could be applied.

As I backtracked to the courtyard I signalled two of the hinour guardsmen to follow me as I retrieved my horse. I wasn't worried about having to rely on instinct as even if I broke my neck I'd ultimately be fine. As I sauntered to the gates atop my horse, the guards, pikes in hand, donned in leather armour with ocassional steel present on them at the walls yelled for the gates to be opened. Kicking up dirt as I rode off I took off towards a smaller hill I'd scouted to the East from the keep.

As me and my escort rode off after some rather rough riding I glimpsed at the duchies main "city", which when compared to modern times was really just a rural town, the people tilled the fields while looking to be in rather high spirits. I wasn't surprised however as even though a lot of the money they put towards improving their living situation simply wouldn't be used, that was still better than most lords at the time. If anything the sple fact that by working hard they could imrpove their lives, not just for themselves, but their family generations down the line motivated them.

As we got closer I thought about that [Authority] tab that had randomly appeared. Having made it through the more uneven forestry environment and onto the plains I once more pulled open the system now less worried about somehow crashing my horse and decided to figure out what it was about.

—->[Authority]

[S.C.P. Foundation]

[Clearance: 05-1]

[Claim Rewards: Y/N]

[Accept Promotion Quest Administrator]

[G.O.C. (Global Occult Coalition)]

[Rank: Civilian]

[Accept Initiation Quest: Y/N]

[Chaos Insurgency]

[Use: "Human Resource"]

[Accept Initiation Quest: Y/N]

[Serpents Hand]

[Worth: Droplet in The Cosmic Sea]

[Accept Initiation Quest: Y/N]

What the hell is an 'Initiat-

[Inquiry Detected: "[Initiation Quests]" are the preliminary requirements to gain "[Rank]" or "[Authority]" pertaining towards a certain path you wish to proceed towards. Gaining "[Authority]" in certain certain organizations allows for the claiming of faction wide bonuses and individual rewards. To complete these quests the user must either complete the requirements themselves, or structure their organization in a certain way. This has been circumvented in the

"[S.C.P. Foundation]" questline due to the one known as 05-1 granting full overseer access to the user. Normally to gain such status a vote would be held among the current members.

It is however reccomended not to attempt to pursue all paths as the requirments of progression may conflict with each other, and may even be impossible due to the base conflicting ideologies that make up the groups.

As I rode I had to refocus as I started stearing my horse to the left. The importance was not lost on me, this would be the basis of how my entire organization would be structured and operate. The bonuses provided would allow it to specialize in certain roles and actions while others would be unobtainable due to not being able to fill the requirements due to conflicting ideologies. I slowed down my steed, eventually coming down to a halt, my eyes bore into the words displayed

[Claim Rewards: Y/N]

The honour guard slowed to a halt besides me, no doubt nervous at my impromptu stop. They looked at each other, hands on their hilts as my full focus lay on the screen in front of me, I decided what to pick.

——> [(Y)/N]

————————————————————

[Title Recived: Overseer]

"Needless to say, you're not supposed to be viewing these files. I say: take a chance. You've come this far.

Some of the following information is true. Some of it's false, even ridiculous. Sometimes I know for sure, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I'll lie. It doesn't matter. Whatever I've told you here, someone somewhere believes it. And belief has power.

Realize also that the O5 Council might not even exist."

-05 Command Dossier

[Select an Overseer to Inherit from]

[05-1] [05-2] [05-3] [05-4] [05-5]

[05-6] [05-7] [05-8] [05-9] [05-10]

[05-11] [05-12] [05-13]

————————————————————

Fuck

This was bad, very bad. I know nothing about the overseers on account of only having access to the SCP files. I don't know their abilities, potential anomalous objects in their posession, or most importantly if there's any debilitating disadvantages I could get stuck with. This was simply a game of chance, and as much as I loathed it I could do nothing to change it.

So as I sat their blank faced with eyes swirling with an unknown intensity scrutinizing it I eventually decided to choose 05-1. I hadn't done so for any particular reason as the little inferences I could make would most likely be wrong and lead me astray into believing things that weren't even correct, however the first, the origin of anything had some influence. Even if it was something bland and unimportant I knew I'd be able to handle it on my own anyways.

——>[(05-1)]

As I did so the title changed.

Authors Note: I've become the thing I swore to destroy, an author who's unreliable as f*ck.