A discarded, weathered journal was found along a redacted beach. No water damage. It appears as though the text was intentionally placed. Meant to be found. The pages were well-worn. Well-loved. There are no dates or timeframes to indicate when the following claimed events took place.
Greetings. I can only give you my code or field name. Just call me Lich—no jokes, please. I imagine myself as a serious person who takes their job even more seriously. Someone has to. I literally have to. For the sake of common civilians like yourself.
Oh, how sometimes I miss the air of blissful ignorance. Before everything came to light. Having to find out that monsters were quite real.
That may have peaked your interest.
You, I would imagine, are curious about the shrouded world you live in. These “monsters,” cryptids, aliens—however you want to flavor it—are kept under very close and extensive checks and balances. For the most part. I am someone whose job is to take care of what “the most part” does not cover.
So my background is unextraordinary. I grew up in some backwater town in Pennsylvania. I always had a slight preoccupation with the unknown, specifically animals. Animal anomalies, creatures that have perplexed scientists for years, demons, dragons—you name it, I researched it.
The writing suddenly appears to be in a sloppy, uneven scrawl. The page is slightly torn, making it seem that the author was interrupted while writing. A word or two appear to be smudged.
I am with the (unclear, words are smudged) Security Worldwide Program. I mainly work and deal with every unofficially documented cryptid on the face of the planet.
For example, Coelacanths—yeah, you’re welcome. That was all me. No, I did not enjoy THAT expedition. Mosquitoes are quite dangerous and annoying.
I am rambling. Sorry. This has been a very long trip.
My organization is supposed to assess and analyze the risks that cryptids pose to the world at large. I am one of the “experts” in charge of providing security and aiding in the relocation (if needed) of the hazards…cryptids.
Lately, the organization has become corrupt, which has led to illegal trade involving the cryptids. No joke—you want a Manticore for your twelve-year old’s birthday? No problem. My team and I will have that HANDLED.
Truth be told, I am on the run. I went rogue. Got tired of doing what my company told me to do. Now me and ol’ Blue Eyes are on the run.
I think I will leave some food for thought to quench that curiosity you have. The first of my random string of exploits I will reveal is the high and mighty Quetzalcoatl (q-ets-a-coat-el).
If you haven’t heard, they are a species of Brazilian Dragon. I really should not say “they.” I should say “them,” as there is only one in the entire world. In existence. At a time.
These, for simplicity’s sake, “dragons” are massive, two-hundred-foot-tall giants. They have a beautiful plumage that would make every single peacock on the face of the planet jealous. The Quetzalcoatl has stone-like features, giving their face a petrified-stone-mask look.
They have pale green scales and splotches of colorful feathers all over the dorsal sides of their body. They are mostly green in appearance, but their feathers are a combination of dark green, violet, blue, and orange. Their body is very long and serpent-like, with two sets of wings—so four, yeah, four individual wings.
Quetzalcoatl commodities are popular all over the world, specifically in black markets. The “items” in question include blurry photos, scales, or the occasional feather. Now those—those are rare.
We classify unique, one-of-a-kind creatures in the God category. Again, more on that maybe at another time. If I have time. Or even feel like it.
Anyways, God-category creatures are considered timeless or immortal. They are consequently considered dangerous and illegal to buy, sell, trade, or kill.
The Quetzalcoatl is similar to a Phoenix. You probably do not even know what that is. Think, super powerful fire bird. There is only one, and when it ignites for the final time, it leaves behind an egg. So it starts and ends in an inferno.
At the end of its life, the Quetzalcoatl lays an egg. This egg will hatch into a replacement in, say, twenty-five to one hundred years. Now, this is all according to recorded and approved research. Huge questionable gap, right?
Well, according to the fancy people in the lab coats—which are our LOVING and CARING biologists—the hatch time depends on the weather or some ecosystem-related thing that I do not know about.
Listen, if it isn’t about capturing or studying monsters, everything else is above my pay grade and beyond my attention span.
In this particular situation I found myself in, the Quetzalcoatl in question was very angry and territorial. You see, the dragon laid its egg very close to a village and is wreaking absolute havoc.
These behaviors include, but are not limited to: eating livestock, scaring people, destroying buildings, upturning vehicles and—oh, did I mention they breathe fire?
Yeah. It is a mess.
The people of this village, according to history, would satiate the beast’s unrest through ceremonies, singing (campfire songs? I don’t know), rituals, art and the like. Yeah, none of that is working.
So guess who gets the phone call? Me.
Guess who does not feel like going? Me.
Guess who is going? Me.
The plan: relocate the egg.
Good thing I have my heavily enforced Kevlar vest.
The idea is to lift the egg using a steel net, which would also lure the upset Quetzalcoatl away. The egg is to be taken to site Q (another smudge on the page was noted).
My social services representative…let’s call him Jerrick…has already made contact with the natives at the new location. Deals were struck, temples razed, and some fine beef jerky was available.
Things look good for the dragon compared to the tiny village it is harassing.
I am sure you are wondering: well, why not use other creatures, dragons, cryptids, or whatever to do the fighting for us?
Uh, are you out of your mind?
God-class creatures have this fun ability to either compel lesser creatures into doing their bidding or scare them away. So then I would be going against two creatures or trying to chase after one.
Yeah, it is not a good idea.
We got there nice and early. I do not mean any of that.
The sun was barely breaking through the thick canopies. I had bacon. I mean, I ate a lot of bacon. You never know—it could be your last meal when it comes to my job.
I use the term “job” very loosely. It’s more like a hobby or curiosity that has gotten out of control.
So after breakfast, the day got insanely hot. I am unsure if I was more annoyed by the humidity or the bugs.
Oh, and the smell—it’s really bad.
Our small task force focuses on sweeping the area with special sonar equipment, as the Quetzalcoatl can mask its own body temperature. This is thanks to the special microfibric sensors packed into every square inch of its plumage.
So instead, we are trying to track and locate the egg.
We were at it for about four hours until we started to feel the tremors. The team was given the signal to put on their ghillie cover. If you do not know what that is, it is basically quick camouflage.
Ours are special. Our heat signature is hidden too.
Gotta know the enemy to fight the enemy, right?
However, the covering does not prevent our heartbeats from being picked up. We seriously underestimated the capabilities of the Quetzalcoatl.
It found us.
We radioed for back up, and the dragon screamed through the jungle. Trees, dead leaves, and exotic birds scattered before our very eyes. The hulking frame moved at unrealistic speeds and fluid, snake-like sudden turns.
It was not happy and did not plan on letting us escape. Especially since we are close to the nest.
In order to buy us time, I scattered the contents of my spice pouches. The intention was to confuse the dragon to buy us a few precious seconds to avoid casualties.
My plan worked, and the team was able to scatter. It was planned for scenario F.
You know, like plan B? We were well beyond plan B.
In this organization, you make multiple plans. Things that go bump in the night will never do what you expect them to do. This is mostly because a lot of the information out there about cryptids is biased and inaccurate.
We successfully made it into the cave opening after distracting the dragon. We found the egg.
However, the helicopters were not there yet to extract the package. The noise from our aerial assistants would only enrage the Quetzalcoatl more.
Good old plan G. Yes, we are beyond F now.
Outside the cave, it was pure chaos. You cannot blame the dragon, though—only acting on instinct to protect its own.
As we were debating our next move, we heard a shrill cry erupt through the forest. The Quetzalcoatl appeared to have been blinded—briefly.
We watched in shock as it slowly regenerated a smoking left eye.
We had no clue that it could regenerate.
Certainly not surprising for a God-tier creature, but like I said, most common knowledge about cryptids is highly inaccurate.
This was the time we needed.
The helicopter arrived in time to lower the steel net to secure the egg as the Quetzalcoatl recovered.
Our flight was rather rough. That is putting it lightly.
The spice mix no longer worked to keep the dragon at bay. It screamed at us as it wove through the trees at high speeds, chasing us. Nearly ready to overtake us at a moment's notice.
Our bait escort helicopters did not work either. Yeah, they were left largely ignored as the Quetzalcoatl continued to gain on us.
We were fools to think that the trees would serve as obstacles. The creature knew the environment better than we ever will.
A fun fact about Quetzalcoatls is that they are unable to fly very high. Despite having four sets of functional wings, they are meant to glide at low heights in their jungle habitats.
A loud crash shook us out of our thoughts as one of the bait helicopters was seen falling out of the air. The crew in tow safely descended to the ground with their parachutes.
The dragon’s rage grew as it barred its stony, fanged mouth in an angry snarl. It continued to click and snap its fangs at the safety net.
Sweat rolled down my face and neck as I did my best to not focus on the monster just ten feet beneath me.
I highly dislike flying.
I probably tasted my own breakfast from hours ago no less than seven times during that flight.
We finally arrived at site Q.
Though the flight took around fifteen minutes, it felt like we were in the air for hours and running from the Quetzalcoatl for even longer.
The main temple that was built for the Quetzalcoatl was very nice…but also very expensive. Shiny white stones adorned the structure tastefully. Hundreds of glyphs and depictions of the Quetzalcoatl and its legend complemented the climbing, squared off structure.
From the small window of opportunity, I thought I glimpsed a shining pile of gold, silver, and jewels at the top of the monument.
So, what we needed to do was smash the aircraft into the dirt near the main temple, while also safely jumping onto one of the escort choppers. Naturally, the Quetzalcoatl would go for the egg and bypass us.
That is what we hoped.
As I was preparing to jump, my boot string got stuck on a piece of the ripped metal doorframe. I screamed in the comms (our communication radio) for the crew to forget about me and focus on getting to the waiting chopper safely.
My heart leapt out of my chest and sank a little when I saw each of the team members jump from the open door.
The screaming of the helicopter's engine erupted in my ears as the red safety alarms started to blare and fill the small cab.
The craft was unpiloted. I was the exception.
I tugged and ripped at my boot string as thick, black, engine-riddled smoke filled the small space. Choking and soldiering through the chaos, I managed to wrench my foot free from the boot.
I did not have much time left as the chopper continued its rapid descent and sporadic flight path.
Squinting through my burning eyes, I saw the helicopter's trajectory was slightly off. I had a chance to jump and grab onto one of the overhanging sections of the temple.
I counted my blessings, took my chances and jumped….
The remainder of the last page is missing.
The next several pages have been torn clean out of the book binding and lost to the sands of time.
The last few pages of the worn journal appear to be sketches. After reading this entry, one could easily pick out a rough, hurried sketch of the Quetzalcoatl and a very detailed drawing of the egg mentioned in this entry.
Some of the pages appear to be damaged throughout the journal. However, upon closer inspection, a good five to ten pages appear to have been stuck together.
The writing is impeccable and clear.