 Item number SCP-356 Object Class Keter Special Containment Procedures SCP-356 is currently uncontained. All attempts to contain or neutralize it have failed. Research into methods for containment are ongoing. Personnel who observe the entity are to be treated with Class G amnestics, and must be located with at least one freshwater stream, river, or lake within one kilometer of the treatment facility. All historical references to SCP-356 are to be removed and or attributed to myth, shell shock, PTSD, and hysteria. Reports regarding loss of life and damage as a result of SCP-356 incidents should be scrubbed of all references to the anomaly, and replaced with narratives involving military conflict, natural, or man-made disasters. Regions in which SCP-356 are likely to appear are to be monitored regularly. Personnel are to be deployed to aid evacuation efforts in the event of an incident. Direct observation of SCP-356 should be avoided. Description SCP-356 are a group of quadrupeds resembling horses and other equines. Individual instances deviate significantly from other equines, particularly due to the lack of hair, presence of three-toed hooves, thick translucent skin, and either single or multiple human torsos fused to its back in addition to the normal equine head attached to the horse's body. Each torso has a pair of arms and a head attached, where the arm span reaches twice the height of the entity itself, and end in five sharpened protruding bone digits in place of human fingers. In most instances, SCP-356 possesses a hole where the human nose is normally located, and is capable of emitting high-pitched screams up to 110 decibels in intensity. The size of each SCP-356 instance varies, with the largest recorded manifestation reaching 30 meters in height and 15 meters in length. SCP-356 instances, thus far, have proven to be impervious to conventional weapons. Instances materialize near the sites of war, terrorist attacks, and natural disasters. Multiple manifestations may occur depending on the scale of the event, as indicated by the entity's materialization during numerous historical events throughout the 19th, 20th, and 21st centuries. SCP-356 instances display high levels of adaptive intelligence during incidents, often engineering situations to trap or torture their targets. Due to this, it is currently theorized that SCP-356 may be sapient. Direct observation of SCP-356 by an individual will result in the entity becoming aware of the observer, at which point it will display directional awareness of said individuals at all times. SCP-356 manifestations are known to engage in predatory and stalking behavior, utilizing the environment to conceal and camouflage themselves. Survivors of such behavior report that the entity will manipulate and follow its targets, pursuing them well beyond the site of initial manifestation. See incident log I-3456-032. SCP-356 will continue such behaviors, deliberately exposing itself to as many individuals as possible, until it has captured a large number of individuals, at which point it will dematerialize. What happens to subjects taken by SCP-356 is currently not known. Should SCP-356 be incapable of collecting a sufficient number of subjects, it will continually materialize near individuals who have observed it before, until it is able to capture them. SCP-356 is either unwilling to cross, or incapable of crossing, bodies of fresh water. This was initially discovered by Foundation plants within Basra, Iraq during Operation Iraqi Freedom. Foundation agents were forced into rapid retreat across the Tigris River by three SCP-3456 manifestations, at which time they discovered that the instances either could not or would not set foot onto the bridge. How and why SCP-356 is unable to cross such geographic boundaries is currently unknown. The following section contains journal entries from Dave Harkind, an infantryman in the British Expeditionary Force during World War I. This journal describes several SCP-3456 sightings over the course of the Battle of Somme. Mud all over the uniform, and their faces are so pale. Look like they haven't eaten or slept for months. Commanding officer is rather shit-hot for battle. It's quite admirable. July 2nd, 1916. Woke in the early hours of the morning. Ground was shaking. Damn near shook me out of the muck onto the dugout floor. Pulled blokes and the bunks on the other side looked like they had just seen a ghoul. Pair of northern Irish lads and Kitchener's armies, if I remember right, kept muttering about a knackety, you must be some mick thing. We're both gripping a gold crucifix. Was about to lay my head down, then get a wink of shut-eye when I ended up scrambling into the mud. Loudest damn thing I've ever heard thought it was the hun artillery about to mark us with a whiz bang. Only problem was, never did get the bang. The morning asked our brass hat about the artillery barrage. Gave me a funny look and asked what the bloody hell I was talking about. July 2nd, 1916. We went looking for the dud that must have come down last night. Didn't find it, but found something even the almond wall I probably can't explain. Strange looking crater I've ever seen was shaped like a giant hoof. July 3rd, 1916. Huns made a push today. First time they've moved into our region. First time I've ever seen combat. It's not romantic and adventurous. It's terrifying and deadly. My hands can't stop shaking. I already messed up the chit once. The Huns had our outfit up against a wall, damn near overran us. Didn't help that drained the night before, making our foxhole filled to the brim with muck. All of the frits came right at me, just... I put one between his eyes. Filled right at the edge of the trench and had to look him in the eyes. Poor lad couldn't have been more than 17 or 18. Martin, one of those Irish lads, is gone. Was unlike anything I'd ever seen. One moment he's standing, shooting up the Huns. All of the sudden, the mud starts boiling. Before anyone can react, mud just flies everywhere. Everyone else is suddenly knocked down off their feet. I look up, the wanker's just gone. There wasn't even body parts left. I haven't told anyone, but I'd swear that there was bones coming up from underneath him right before the mud went flying. His mate, Brendan, was digging in the mud for hours, looking for the crucifix. July 14th and 15th, 1916. Huns tried to push this morning in the rain. I was in the machine gun nest with Brendan, the other Irish chap in my unit. They kept coming and coming, getting stuck in the mud and I just kept shooting. Sun is rising. I'm on watch till eight. At least that's what the brass had said. I've started losing track of how much time's been passing. There's something out there. Something lurking out in the mud. Dead Huns nearly dazed off last night, listening to the moans of the blighty wounded stuck out in no man's land. Poor bastards got left behind, saw something in the edge of my vision. Something big. Couldn't quite make it out. It was much darker than usual. Evercast sky was obscuring the full moon. I heard a couple of screams, but whatever it was was gone before my flare hit the sky. July 30th, 1916. I've been seeing them. The edges of my vision ever since that first night. They're huge, but they move so damn fast that they're gone before I can get a clear look. Or at least that's how it was mucking out until today. Thick fog and mist rilled in this morning, blanketed everything. We figured the Huns might use it to launch another push. Bastards have been pushing non-stop since the 20th. Saw it through the fog. Looked like a shadow hiding in the mist. Some sort of horse-like creature with a something jagging along the ground. A giant lump with a ride it would sit. They said the lump started moving. I could have sworn it was a person or something that looked like a person. It sat up. The things dragging along the ground reached out in front of it and picked up something. I thought it was a couple dead jerrys until they started squirming. I'll never forget the noise it made, louder than a badgey, shrill and twisted. It looked right at me. Two pairs of glowing red orbs. August 5th, Brendan calls them knuckle of ease. Won't tell me much more than that. Beginning to understand why all these blokes looked so terrified when I first arrived. August 13th. Bloody hell. Bloody hell. Their nightmares. Been on watch two nights in a row. One just appeared right there, right in front of me. 20 feet. Had to be at least 20 feet away. Powered into the sky. Got my flare to go off in time to see it pick up a couple wounded jerrys in the mud. They don't have bloody skin. It was just muscle and fat. The thing on its back wasn't human. No way. It could be human. Had no skin either. No legs. Just merged straight into the horse at the stomach. I took a couple shots at it with my rifle. It did absolutely nothing. Like I was shooting it with a sling shot. It stopped as soon as my flare reached its highest point and turned. It looked straight down at me. Both the horse and the thing on its back. It smiled. August 17th, 1916. Been assigned night watch the past four nights straight. Tried to tell the brass hat about the knuckle of ease. Didn't believe me. Said it was the shell shock playing with my head. Had to put a sock in it and keep on. It keeps coming back every night. Same spot. 20 feet in front of me. Picks up wounded jerrys. Turns and looks and then it's gone. It's playing with me. I'm sure of it. Last night there was another one too. Four of those things on its back did the same damn thing. Seven a.m. August 20th of 1916. Jerrys made a big push yesterday. Rained two days ago all day so the muck was deep. We were in the machine gun again on the pill box. So many of them in no man's land last night couldn't tell the dead from the living. Haven't slept in six days. There were five tonight. Three of them had more than one of those things on their back. The one that keeps coming back dropped something. Saw it shine in the flare light. 10 a.m. August 20th 1916. Went out into the mud where it appears every night. Found Martin's crucifix and tin hat. August 20th 1916. They're getting bold. I saw one out in broad daylight. Pretty sure it was the same one. Buried itself in the mud just lying there waiting. We're going over the top of three. There are more out there now all doing the same thing. God help us. Official records show that Dave Harkin was declared missing in action on August 20th following a failed British counterattack against the German trenches. Additional queries have revealed that one Brendan O'Malley within the same unit was also reported missing in action on the same date. Harkin's journal was found 20 feet from the edge of the German trenches two months after he disappeared.