rating: +24+x

Item #: RPC-549

Object Class: Alpha

Containment Protocols: RPC-549's course is to be monitored by ASF on the lightvessel Watchers. The vessel contains fire proximity suits on deck which are to be used for RPC-549-1 documentation retrieval. (See Addendum.) Civilian ships are to be redirected from RPC-549's proximity by ASF personnel disguised as a film crew.

Description: RPC-549 is a derelict longship made of tissue similar in composition to balaenoptera acutorostrata1 traveling across waters near Antarctica at an average speed of 1 knot. The object moves by anomalous means as no external force has ever disturbed it's continuous momentum. The word Requiem is scrawled in ogham runes on the longship bow. Continually-grown lilac, lily-of-the-valley, and hollyhock flora decorate the majority of its hull. Perfectly preserved wine and fruit sit vertically affixed around a pillow made of hemp. If damaged, the longship will generate bone and organic tissue around breaches until fully repaired.

RPC-549-1 is the remains of an adolescent female. The remains are ignited by unknown means every 3 days. As such, RPC-549-1's body is in a constant state of cremation. The instance will promptly reappear on RPC-549 upon total disintegration or attempts at extraction. In all cases, the instance revives with an arrow protruding from her abdomen.

Addendum: Abridged list of known skaldic poems manifested alongside RPC-549-1 40% of the time have been documented by the Authority. The logs are named after the authors presumed to have produced them.

Rūsiyyah Log 1

Ingirun bore me Hervor with red flecks,
a sweet child, unraveled at mid-wife Ygror's breast.
When Erik called, she became a fletcher.
As Ólafr's Sons charged with shield and axe,
she shot them from the holes of flax.
Gold bristle and Elm deer, Hervor's aim was keen,
till gadflies ate at her eyes,
and wolves, her neck,
poor girl,
to purple nights, auspicious stars.
I let you go.

Ygror's Log

The berries turn sour,
all of the Wood expires.
No balm rids the itch,
dead things lay still and then twitch.
No whale bone paste for pale Ygwin,
nor chicken, nor cock for the puss of Sigrunn.
The baths now ice yet the skin boils.

Harald's Log (impartial translation)

…came so fast like Black Horses…
Horn of ox and steer twist into crowns,
…the Elder things come….
the Wild Hunt sets… twilight unravels…

Rūsiyyah Log 2

Ingirun dead to winter, like Astrid and Sigrunn,
Gisle by arrow, Harald by sword.
The suns are setting,
they flee from fimbulvinter.
Dark jötunn consume the morning and noon,

for we are all Guests upon this realm,
and when we cease,
the white wood Yggdrasil and her acorn peace,
I lay her still,
Omnia mutantur, Nihil interit.

She leaves to Ancient Ægir on Great Wurm flesh,
My last, I miss you most.
I whisper to her ear final regrets,
follow the wolf through stormy Living Winter.
Find your way back to me, sweet child,
through the purple and swirling green,
that which is loved can never die, will never unlove.

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