Ihp's Sandbox 2
rating: 0+x

Item #: SCP-2307

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2307-01 is to be stored in a medium-sized (35 liter) aquarium tank filled with water taken from either Dozmary Pool or Llyn Ogwen1, which is to be inspected weekly for flaws in the tank. Secondary and tertiary tanks are to be kept to store SCP-2307-01 during primary tank maintenance.

SCP-2307-02 is to be kept in a climate-controlled case meant to preserve skeletal structures, and is to be cleaned and inspected for damage immediately after each test conducted with it. Use of SCP-2307-02 with other memory- or record-affecting SCPs is permitted with approval from O5-2.

Description: SCP-2307-01 is the remains of a long sword, with a 56 cm hilt and a partial blade 40cm in length, estimated to be approximately 43% of its original size. Uranium dating has shown that the hilt and cross guard of the sword date to approximately the 4th Century CE; however, the metal used in the blade dates to approximately 3.2 Billion BCE. Along with the high levels of iridium present in the metal, it is hypothesized that SCP-2307-01 was forged out of meteoric metal. SCP-2307-01 is in a severe state of disrepair as a result of being submerged in water for at least 1300 years.

SCP-2307-01's primary anomaly manifests when a subject attempts to wield it as if it were an intact sword. Following this, several inconsistencies will manifest in records pertaining to the individual wielding SCP-2307-1, including birth certificates, resumes, credit reports, and even genealogical records to reflect on the subject in a positive light. The changes vary from individual to individual, and information can be inconsistent between sources. Changes to these records have no bearing on the status of the individual wielding SCP-2307-01. Consistent patterns of record alteration include:

  • Birth certificates having altered spellings of names, birth dates, and in some cases, gender. In addition, individuals will have their birth dates altered to be on more significant dates. In tested individuals, this has included July 7th (7/7), October 31st, December 25th, or February 14th.
  • Educational records will show that the subject scored highly on major academic tests, and attended several institutions of higher learning, some simultaneously. Subjects report no change to their knowledge as a result of these alterations.
  • Subject's financial records- including bank statements and tax records- will show them as being wealthy, with a net value of at least $750,000 USD.
  • Individuals living in countries with democratic voting will have records (including newspaper articles and disused ballots) featuring the subject as being a prominent candidate in some form of political campaign, with inconsistent records of them either winning or losing to the candidate they were opposing. If a win, it will be in a landslide election; if a loss, it will be by a small margin. Voters in the relevant elections have no recollection of the individual.
  • Finally, death certificates will not reflect the actual cause of death of the subject; subjects will invariably have died in some form of combat and died from causes such as sword blows, bullets, and arrows fatally impacting.

Usually, most accounts only agree on the fact that the subject held SCP-2307-01 at some point in their life.

Furthermore, when SCP-2307-01 is not submerged in water taken from either Dozmary Pool or Llyn Ogwen, the metal of the blade will regenerate at a rate of approximately 15mm/day, and rust will begin to flake off of the blade, revealing pristine metal beneath. Testing following periods of SCP-2307-01 being unsubmerged for long periods has shown an increase in the potency of its anomalous effects.

SCP-2307-02 is a druidic crown carved from the skull of a horse, believed to have been worn during rituals in 5th-7th Century Britain, originally believed to have been unrelated to SCP-2037-01. SCP-2307-02 is in poor condition, with several fractures in the bone as a result of age and repeated use in recent years. The underside of the crown has a partial inscription in old Welsh, with the letters "Myr" legible.

Individuals wearing SCP-2307-02 possess eiditic memory as long as they wear it, as well as a complete immunity to all forms of memory and record alteration. Amnestics are completely ineffective, both on memories of the subject possessed by others, and on the subject themselves. It is impossible to artificially alter records pertaining to the subject while they are wearing SCP-2307; attempts to alter them electronically will result in editing programs crashing, and manually changing them will cause a catastrophic failure of the writing instrument.

SCP-2307-02 was previously classified as E-9382-U, and was used in experiments involving memory- and record-altering anomalies. Following Test 2307-19, it was reclassified as a component of SCP-2307.

Test 2307-19:

Hypothesis: Use of E-9382-U in conjunction with SCP-2307 will allow either for records pertaining to the subject to be unaltered, or for the records to be altered at will. If records are indeed able to be altered, the subject will attempt to modify their birth certificate so that it reads that they were born exactly one year before the date listed.
Test Subject: D-2307-19, Born 08/15/1977.
Record of Test: D-2307-19 reacts with some level of disgust at the prospect of wearing E-9382-U, stating that he "doesn't like freaky bone stuff". D-2307-19 says he will comply if he is given an extra dessert ration. Request granted; subject puts on E-9382-U.

Subject is then instructed to remove SCP-2307 from its container and hold it by the hilt. Subject briefly complains of hands getting wet, before exclaiming and dropping SCP-2307 on the floor five seconds after removing it from its container.

When asked the reason for this action, Subject gave this statement:

I saw something weird. I was.. I was riding a horse, and had an army around me, at least… nine-hundred people. All guys, all in armor. There was one guy— I remember him as K, I think— who was the size of a goddamn house. They had three crowns on their shields. Some guy was next to me with the crown on his head. He was… advising me on the battle.

Testing was suspended following this statement. As of 5/21/2015- five years after the experiment was conducted- no alteration of D-2307-19's records have occurred.

Conclusion: Further cross-testing with the two items is deemed necessary.


The following document collects statements given by Alexander Penter (formerly D-2307-19), who has been made an E-Class individual for the purposes of study. No other Class-D personnel have been affected by SCP-2037 in the manner which Penter claims to be affected. Statements are listed in the order collected, and appear to be mostly about a single individual, with the exceptions of Statements 2307-42, 2307-51, 2307-57, and 2307-59, which is listed separately.

I remember talking to my wife about putting up new tapestries in the throne room. My wife. She was… goddamn beautiful. I don't have a wife, but she was my wife. I… we wanted kids, but she couldn't have any. I remember making sure of that— she and… some French name I can't pronounce, I think it was French. He and her were doing things behind my back. I acted like I didn't know, but in the middle of a battle, I paid someone to sneak into the castle and stick an arrow on her womb. What the fuck?

The tapestry… I still remember it. It's fading, get me some paper?

Note: What is believed to be part of the tapestry described, or at least a tapestry sharing the same heraldry, has since been located in the British Museum, having been recovered from a series of unidentified ruins in Cornwall.

I couldn't breathe. It was like I was having an asthma attack in a coffin. I remember lightning striking— I think I did that. There's fire everywhere, and people in robes are trying to get me out of the building. They know I'm mad, and they're mad at me, too. They're going to have me melted down because I'm cursed, and they're saying shit in Latin the whole time. I took a class in high school; get me some paper and I can write it down.

Note: Translated from Latin, the dialog reads "We shall not hear you, pagan mistress of Hell. We shall cast thee out of our house, though you burn it."

You said the… crown, weird calling it that. You said it belonged to a druid, like, World of Warcraft, Dungeons and Dragons druid? The guy who was wearing the crown, he… I got a good look at him this time. He was really young, like a teenager. Pointed teeth and fangs. He was dancing around a fire, throwing spices into it and saying things in some language— I don't know it, sorry.
There were shapes in the fire, shapes of people. There was that big K guy I told you about, then there was a guy holding a big cup, a man who turned into a wolf, a knight with a talking lion, someone who I could only describe as "perfect", and someone who did… fuck, did magic like this guy did, and I knew this guy, Bedivere he was in danger of being executed a kingdom over.

Son of a bitch. Am I looking through the eyes of King Fucking Arthur?

Okay, okay, I'm fine. Sorry.2 I'm fine, I can talk. Just… get me some water?

God damn that was scary. I was fighting against… I'm pretty sure they were related to my sister, Arthur's sister, whatever, and even I know who that is. Elves? Fairies? Whatever you want to call them. Three others were there— the wolf-guy, who just came back after his wife stole his way to turn into a guy again, was pinned under a pack of them. K — I think Sir Kay? — almost melted them off with his hands. Jesus. And I laughed as I smelled them burn. Wolf-guy — I called him "Bisclavert" for some reason — joked about not needing dinner tonight, and I laughed.

Never meet your heroes, am I right?

Sorry about the mess.3 But that's what you get when you see your guts spilled everywhere. I was…. I was dying. I was in a hospital bed, but I knew I would die. Not even a hospital, just a tent with leeches and… the druid was gone. He'd been gone for a few years. My sister… who I just realized was the father of the guy who killed me, came in to take me away, across a gigantic lake.

We had gone to the lake, before. I saw it one last time, when they came to take me away. Then, something… something came out of the water. She was beautiful, more beautiful than… Gwen, can't pronounce her full name. Her skin was kind of blue, and she had… feelers in her hair, like anglerfish, but less… sinister, I guess. She wasn't human. She took the sword from me, told me that my story would be told for ages, and… kissed me goodnight. Then, I was gone.

That asthma-coffin feeling again. I got pulled out of it by someone, and I realized: I was a fucking sword. And then, I wasn't, I was a little kid. Maybe eleven or twelve, and the sword was just too goddamn big for me. I thought if I had the sword and my brother's armor, I could fight in his place and he wouldn't be dishonored. People pointed at me as I went, and I thought I was in trouble. At the tournament, my opponent saw the sword, took off his helmet, and bowed to me. Then… Myrddin came up and told me what the sword meant.

It meant I was the king.

Statement 2307-42:

My name was Myrddin. I was old, but I looked very, very young. I'd been mistaken for sixteen, but I was born when Christ was. I found a stone circle— I was going to use it for a spell — and someone desecrated it, sticking a sword in the… dolmen? Is that the word? I went to take it out.

Then… heat, pain, a voice. I think I got struck by lightning. The voice told me that I… I needed to find a boy, maybe in a hundred years, maybe in two-hundred. He would wield me and bring together people who would… mesh well. They would lay the foundations for an empire where my… my people would come, and survive after a great… battle? Something far east, a conflict with… I think the voice was trying to say 'cancer'.

The voice said something else— a curse. No stories told about me or anyone I knew would ever be the truth, but they would inspire all who heard them to be better followers, and… better people, I guess.

Statement 2307-51:

Hey, uh, this thing doesn't actually do things to your body, right? Because I'm allergic to wool, and I'm pretty sure that's what I was wearing.

I found the.. well, the sword, I guess, when it was on the shore— or in the shore. It was, like, three feet into the cliff. I pulled it out with some of my friends from the monastery— I think I was a monk— and we took it back, seeing it as a sign that… something holy happened, I guess?

We kept it in a wooden box, but over the next few days, we found weird things happening with our writing— our Bible changed to say that Adam and Eve getting kicked out of the garden was a good thing, and that the Serpent was… beneficent? That's the word that got thrown around. Also, according to the new book, Jesus brought Lazarus back to life with lightning, like Frankenstein.

Someone tried throwing it in the fire, but it wouldn't melt. The lightning started, after that. The tower caught fire, and the whole place started to burn. A dozen of the… convent, is that the right word for monks? Died, and I got hit by lightning making a break for it.

That same voice told me I had taken not a sword, but… her pen, part of her stylus. It told me I could repent and survive if I followed its directions exactly. I did what it asked— took it to a blacksmith, who made it into a sword, a proper sword. Then, it took me towards a stone circle, I stuck the sword in the dolmen, and… left. Drank myself to death somewhere.

Statement 2307-57:

I was the water woman, the one I told you about when Arthur died. I was visited in the lake I lived by some monks— I think they were from the same order that got smote. They said they wanted help. They said that something 'unholy' was upon the land. I told them I "did not care of their mortal ways" -her words, not mine-, and then they said a name: MEKHANE.

I told them I would agree to whatever they wanted me to do. They had sent someone disguised as the son of the king who had the sword- who had apparently been made with his half-sister, ew- to kill him in battle. They said that they would… bless my lake, and one of my sister's lakes, to hold the sword of MEKHANE in it, so that it couldn't make new legends, whatever that means. In exchange, I would be written about as a queen among fairies- er, fae, or whatever. The Lady of the Lake, they called me. I liked the sound of that. Son of a bitch.

Statement 2307-59:

I was writing the word of the world, on a beach, using lightning. My people ran around below me, gathering up the glass from where the lightning struck, and transcribing my word onto their own scrolls, where they would make my holy books. Then, one day, I was hit by… something, and my pen broke. I managed to make most of it land on the beach, but… some of it didn't.

A big chunk of my pen landed a quarter of the way across the world, somewhere where I didn't care about it. And then they tried to break it. I didn't like that, so I tried to burn them with lightning and eventually, they gave in.

I've probably told you the rest of this, but from different perspectives. One thing I remember, though… remember that Lady of the Lake girl? I remember doing something to the sword- her kind didn't like iron- so that it wouldn't hurt her, or anyone like her. I don't know why I did it; I kind of remember thinking it was for safekeeping.

And then I saw… myself, holding the sword with that hat on, and then I saw the whole thing over again, and over, and over, and over, and over… until I finally dropped it.