The Khitari Records

— A summary of our history, that I’ve put together from material in The Record, for my fellow member’s pleasure —

The year 1865 brought to a close the most devastating loss that our young America had ever faced and, god willing, will ever face. It was the Civil War that turned brother on brother and darkened this promised lands soil with the blood of innocent man and monster alike. No matter what side you were on when it started, we all mourned at it’s closure.

But, while most returned to their hometowns, to wives and families, there were four men, among the many who had lost everything, who found themselves sitting around a dying fire the day their unit was recalled. The men were great allies and made an arrangement to return to the spot a year later, out of service, and ready to carve out a place together.

When they had returned, each leaving everything they had left behind, with nothing more than their kit and resolve to find purpose elsewhere, they began to wander as a convoy. The four, bonded as brothers performed jobs as they went, lived on the land, and slept many nights in calm wood, under tarp and tent. Purpose was found in such a wood.

One of the men awoke and left his bedding to find the wood was overtaken by a thick fog of a strange smell. Fog was known to him, but this fog set him on edge, and he decided to rekindle the light of their fire pit and stand watch with his rifle. The light of the fire on the surrounding fog warbled in intensity, raising and lowering. It became apparent that one such spot of this warbling wasn’t acting along with the rest.

The man witnessed a glowing orb, seemingly made from the fog itself, bouncing steadily through the trees, casting it’s light across the wood. Long shadows of the trees from this source reached out for incredible lengths and it grew closer, shining brighter, and as it approached, the man’s heart filled his limbs with ice, and falling backward, he ran to his brothers. Rousing them, the group gathered from under their cover to find more orbs, circling their clearing.

The orbs broke their steady train to scatter erratically around the camp. The men braced themselves as they came around them with a mighty wind, kicking up all they had brought, and sending a column of fog up around them, then as suddenly as it occurred, the orbs were gone, and the men were left panting and disheveled in the clearing.

They talked about the incident for hours the morning after, one had heard myths of Will o’ Wisps. Curiosity filled them and they decided to keep camp for longer in the wood. Several more visitations occurred, before they stopped all together. The men had overcome fear and marched headlong into a desire for understanding, taking notes. In this they found purpose and their group traveled in search of the unknown, so that someone would have the chance to know.

This group would later adopt the name Khitari several years later, after an incident with a Wyandot Indian Tribe. Several more years later, their group split to further their goals, returning each year to the woods of the Wisps to collect their data into The Record. These men would bring in others, they would pass on torches, and the record would grow. It was becoming apparent that the frequency of anomalous activity was growing, those smarter among us theorized that the sheer amount of horror inflicted on the land during the war somehow creates a breeding ground for strangeness. I’ve seen it myself, when hunting in places of great historical pain, the air is palpable with anomalous energy. As the years move on and more weathers the land, the more it twisted into bizarre forms.

At some point The Collector began to organize the loose groups, able to much other members couldn’t. The Collect was able to contact anyone who bore witness to an anomaly and was deemed a good potential Khitari, and offer them membership, through indirect means. Through this the group grew, made up of people who went out to discover the strange and have their material added to The Record.

In modern days, it’s difficult to tell how many Members there are. We’ve all been brought in, like the others, saw something, got a letter, an message over the phone, had a piece of technology go all funny and relay the message. “You have seen beyond the veil… Will you look deeper with us?” All it takes is a thought, a mental desire giving consent, a verbal answer, and then you’re in or you’re out. The Collector knows you’re an asset and you have agreed to become one of The Khitari, the ones who keep The Record.

The year now is 1994, The Collector isn’t against changing with the times, it would seem, as in old material from the past, when it as all physical material being sent to mysterious, changing, postcodes, drop locations, and the like, now all our material is done digitally. The Record is kept and is available to us all online, when you become a member you’ll often find a package at some point, what it contains varies, but it always allows you to use it with something to gain access. I once met another member, while hunting who was sent an entire portable computer, he liked to take it with him in the field, as even without a connection, it still could get to The Record, somehow. He said it hurts his back to lug around thought.

We’re a community now, more than it ever was, since the time of the founders. We leave messages for each other, carved in wooden posts, leave caches behind for others to find, usually with some photos and notes for fun, we have our own symbology. We’re a bit like those wisps back then, alone at the start, but we find each other at times, and all we do is combined in The Record. It’s a duty and an honor to be one of the Khitari, anyone can be one of us, but we chose to do it, and we gain purpose from it.

Stay Safe and keep The Record.

-Signing Off-