L.T. File: 003: Ṭṣeí Uśhùl ɺómɨⱱ-Faceless Stalker
Those who stalk with no faces were the bane of the aulvi in the below. They can be your closest friend or the leader of your travelling troop. Your teacher. Your brother. Your sister. Your lover. They take the form, and can maintain it until death. They have an uncanny knack for knowing about their victims, but the terror doesn't end there. The Faceless stalkers were the confederates in the grand experiment of those who dwell below. The worst part is that Those who stalk with no faces were not originally part of Those who dwell below. The Faceless stalkers are the original aulvi, the first and second generations, part of the original experiment. Thousands and thousands of Aulvi were dissected and put back together with the unknowable entropy from the endless beyond.
The only surefire way to know, before the death of a faceless stalker that one is not who they say they are is to cut them, and keep the blood for ten days. After ten days, the blood, instead of congealing or drying, will turn to a viscous goo. Then one can be sure that that individual is a stalker... assuming they retain their form. their true forms are skinless, noseless, eyeless monstrosities with nails like needles and a fleshy mass instead of muscle or skin. where there eyes should be are two meaty sockets. In this form (and in their assumed form, if they so choose.) they can compress their bodies to move without impediment through spaces as small as their 'heads'.
In addition to the aforementioned terrors, they have a supernatural ability to speak and understand any language and three pronged tongues that suck blood. Research suggests that blood is not necessary for their nourishment, but they savor it more than any flavor, and they savor aulvi blood more than any other, preferring the flavors of those close to the form they inhabit. One final way that faceless stalkers can be found is that some either by inconvenience or poor planning have found a member of their original bloodline to take the form of, and have drank the blood of another of their family while in that form. They either go mad, or become lucid. The lucid have, almost exclusively killed themselves after a brief time of exceptional kindness. Those who did not kill themselves were killed trying to help their 'families.'
Summary
1. Capture Note — Field Unit 7: “The Flesh’s Cry”
Recovered From: Field Captain Lirä Veinlight
Operation Codename: The Flesh’s Cry
Classification: Sphere 3 — ṭṣeí uśhùl ɺómɨⱱ (“Faceless Stalker”)
Location: Eastern Anadi District, Webway
Status: Compromised / Containment Successful / Operative Lost (psychological/grieving leave)
Summary:
Local witnesses reported an unknown traveler lodging with the family of Field Captain Veinlight (off-duty). After seven days, a body was discovered near the family dwelling — female, mid-70s, missing face and left arm. Field Captain identified the victim as her daughter, Ripples. The figure believed to be Rehnë "Ripples" remained alive and in the home.
Operational Record:
- Unit dispatched: 4 Tranquil Shadows operatives.
- Blood of Ten Days protocol initiated on the duplicate Rehnë at 1:03 twilight.
- At 1:14, specimen displayed distress and attempted self-defense using familial familiarity; repeatedly called Captain by childhood nickname “Coalie.”
- Upon confirmation (viscous transmutation), Captain Veinlight enacted personal termination order, initiating dreamfire incineration, with local burning.
Final Addendum (Recovered from Captain’s personal dictation slate):
“She asked me if I remembered the lullaby. She got the words wrong on purpose, the way Ripples did when she was thirty — ‘to make the night less scary.’ She said she was sorry for taking her shape. She said she thought wearing her might make me love her again. When I burned her, she smiled. And when the flames cleared, I couldn’t tell which one I had saved.”
Additional note: this operation has been difficult on all of us, especially Coal and her husband Walks-on-silver-threads. Anadi do not have familiarity with Faceless stalkers, and this horror had been a greater challenge for him than most, suggested psychic dulling, and grief therapy.
Additional note from Director Sashine- Onyx Wind : Captain Veinlight, Coal, as I know her has been put on leave pending a positive psychological evaluation. Her loss will be missed, operatives encouraged to seek her out during free time to help her cope with loss of daughter. I will visit when possible, as I know the pain of losing a child.
2. Fragmented Account — Unknown Author (Unaffiliated Civilian Journal)
Recovered From: Abandoned campsite, three leagues south of the Shattered Pathway
Condition: Blood-stained pages, partial burn damage
Annotation: Author not identified. Tone and terminology suggest a surface wanderer, non-initiation into the Tranquil Shadows.
I’ve been following it for three nights now. I thought it was my sister at first — same gait, same old joke about the moon being ‘half-drunk and leaning.’ But when it smiled, it didn’t wrinkle right. The teeth were too even. It never blinked.
I know it’s not her. But it knows everything she knew. The place we buried our dog. The scar I hid on the sole of my foot from the glass in the river. I can’t sleep anymore. Every time I shut my eyes, it’s humming that lullaby again.
It doesn’t breathe unless I do first.
They said it’s some kind of mimic — a blood thief, a face-eater, something that was made in the deep. I don’t know what to call it, so I’ve named it the Hollow Daughter. I think it likes that name. Last night, I heard it say it from outside the tent. My voice saying it.
I have my knife. The blood test thing sounds stupid, but I’ll do it anyway. I’ll cut it, and I’ll wait ten days. If the blood turns, then I’ll know. It will not have been in vain. I’ll—
Entry ends mid-sentence. Final line scored through in blood: “it’s already insi--.”
3. Journal of a Faceless Stalker — “The Shape of Remorse”
Recovered From: Dreamfire burn site near River Ankhal
Material: Charred parchment reconstructed via mnemonic spellweave
Designation: Lucid Variant (self-terminating)
Day 1 —
I am called Olive. I will wear her well. Her family is kind, their grief shallow and sweet. They will not look too closely. I will learn how to laugh again, as she did.
Day 3 —
The taste of their food means nothing. The warmth means nothing. But their voices… I feel echoes where I should not. They speak my name and I answer. I do not know whose voice I use.
Day 6 —
I found the younger one — her daughter — bleeding from a fall. Instinct took me. I drank. The blood was familiar. It was like drinking a memory of myself.
Day 7 —
The songs are wrong. The walls hum. My hands shake. I dreamed of the first time I was taken apart, when they said they could make me better. I think I am still in pieces, only wearing the shape of a whole.
Day 9 —
They say I am kind now. They say I help more than Olive ever did. I don’t want to be kind. I want to forget. I want to stop tasting the past on my tongue.
Day 10 —
I watched the sun come up through her eyes and realized I never had my own. I took her knife, the one with her initials, and I waited for the others to sleep.
If I end this shape, perhaps the echo will stop calling itself by her name.
If there are gods above The Below, let them forget me.
— Olive (or whoever I was before the face was gone)
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