[2025-06-23]
The Nail-Men look much like regular men, for they are in fact, predominantly men. Nail-women are not unheard of, but they seem to be few and far between. There are only a few subtle differences between the Nail-Men and regular kinfolk. Their eyes shine flatly, opened too wide, reflecting light which does not quite match their surroundings, but completely matte at the pupils. They grin like salesmen, a combination of infantile glee and opportunistic malice. Their grip is always a bit too strong, like someone attempting to express dominance through a handshake. They speak incessantly of the future and the great feats to be performed there, and are prone to great fits of excitement whenever this topic arises. They seem to have difficulty telling people apart, especially faces, and will attempt to conceal this by pretending to recognize everyone they meet. They will speak to you as if you are old friends, even if you have just met. They do not sleep, or if they do, it has never been seen. They are completely immune to mental infiltration and other forms of psychic attack. Attempting to access their minds results in a sensation not unlike an echo bouncing off a brick wall. There is simply nothing there.
They are most obviously marked by the six inch iron nail which has, at some point, been forcibly hammered into their forehead.
Nail-Men are of course, not actually men. They are nails. The man himself is dead, and the nail acts through him. They remember much of their former lives, but struggle to recall the details. They will claim that these are inconsequential and irrelevant. Who cares if one cannot remember the path walked from your childhood home to the schoolhouse, or the date of your sister's birthday? You may talk to one, and he may claim that he is the same as he ever was, only better. He sees clearer now. The nail was a blessing really, it destroyed the parts of him which were weak and sentimental. The parts which were holding him back. He may even heartily recommend that you get a nail yourself.
But it is not the man who speaks. It is the nail.
No one knows from where the Nail-Men originate. It is thought that perhaps they are dimensional invaders, or a sort of living curse. It is possible that they simply made themselves. What is well known is how a Nail-Man is made. The procedure is simple. First, a nail must be made. A simple iron nail, of specific dimension and gauge. This nail is then etched with a pattern of rings around the length of the shank, particularly spaced. None of this is particularly difficult to do, and an adequately prepared nail may be made by nearly any halfway-competent blacksmith or metalworker you may find. The nail must then be activated by being held beneath the tongue of an extant Nail-Man for a day and a night. For obvious reasons, they are unable to talk while this is being performed, and so this is when they are at their weakest. Once properly treated, it is then only a simple matter of approaching an unsuspecting victim, and quickly pounding the nail through their skull, ideally directly in the middle of the forehead.
When done correctly, this destroys the frontal lobe, killing the conscious mind instantly, while leaving the autonomous functions intact. The body still breathes, and its heart still beats. It will still digest food, and react to pain. But there is no longer any agency within it. There is only the nail. If the nail is ever removed, the body will instantly fall to the floor like a ragdoll. If the body sickens and dies, the Nail-Man will panic and attempt to find a new, viable body as quickly as he is able to do so. However, he will not be able to do this unassisted, as a third party is always required to hold the mallet, and drive the nail. For this reason, Nail-Men often exist in groups, though they seem to hold no fondness for one another. They are solitary, but rarely do they act alone.
Nail-Men do not hide, as a general rule, though they are not unable to. They are proud of what they are, and are so convinced of their own superiority that they resent needing to conceal themselves. They wear their nails ostentatiously, a winking third eye of dull metal. They do not adorn them. They do not polish, or paint, or tattoo. They do not draw any more attention to it than it already receives. The nail is enough.
They occupy cities and urban areas nearly exclusively. They are creatures of law and civilization, and the law protects them. Much of what they do is done legally, openly. They work as merchants, traders, and speculators. Many are quite wealthy. They purchase great swathes of property, raze entire blocks in order to construct vast factories and workhouses. They are captains of industry. They will occasionally run for office. They claim magnanimous motivations, speaking of new jobs, wealth for the community, an undertaking which will be to the benefit of all. A rising tide lifts all boats. Whenever possible, they will purchase slaves to render into new Nail-Men. If they cannot, they will simply prey upon the poor and the destitute, selecting those least likely to be missed.
Though many wish to see them destroyed, if a Nail-Man is ever attacked openly, the perpetrator will be caught, jailed, and punished. The other Nail-Men will exert subtle pressure upon municipal law enforcement, in the form of regular donations or simply crude bribes, to ensure that the murderer is caught. He will be brought to trial, and an example will be made of him. If the attacker claims he was working in the common interest, and attempts to demonstrate the threat and malevolence of the Nail-Men, they will weep crocodile tears at the hateful persecution they face. Are they not sentient beings as well? Do they not deserve to live?
The verdict is swift, and the sentence is usually extreme.
Nail-Men only truly desire one thing, and that is to create more Nail-Men. They do not do this out of a desire to procreate, or a sense of self-preservation. They do not do this out of love for their fellows, for while they may form temporary alliances with one another, they invariably succumb to infighting and internal division, and cannot sustain large groups. They are simply compelled to do so, constantly and unthinkingly. They wish to see a world with more Nail-Men, for they are Nail-Men, and a world with more Nail-Men in it would surely be a better world. Those who do not recognize this are fools at best, and saboteurs at worst.
Nail-Men are unable to create their own nails. The implanting process destroys the fine motor skills, and so they posses no craft of their own. They must contract or hire others to make their nails for them, and they most often operate at scale. This is why they gravitate to industry, why they create their workhouses. Given time, they will create entire nail-factories, ranks of bonded workmen creating thousands of nails in a day, millions in a year. They store and sequester these, great creates of them, and ship them off to hidden locations known to no one. Each nail must still be activated, but once nails are in ready supply, this may be done exponentially. One Nail-Man may create seven new Nail-Men in a week. These seven may create forty-nine new Nail-Men in another. They are able to rapidly swell their ranks, limited only by the availability of nails, and the availability of bodies.
Mercifully, they are often the agents of their own destruction. While Nail-Men hold a loose solidarity with one another, they are never able to cooperate for long. They are often short-sighted, egotistical, impatient. They want everything to be done better, cheaper, faster. They ignore critical details of maintenance in favor of extravagant vanity projects. They eagerly embrace novelty, but grow bored with mundane functionality. They claim that they will be able to work miracles which never quite come to pass. They overestimate their own abilities, and when they fall short they will blame those around them. They inevitably stumble into pitfalls which they have themselves prepared.
There are those who wish to become Nail-Men, and these are the most dangerous sort. This is usually done for social or economic gain, for every city has its community of Nail-Men, and they are often influential and well-connected. They may spend many years working in the service of Nail-Men, thanklessly attending to the daily operations of business which are beneath a Nail-Man's notice. They will suffer great abuse at the hands of the Nail-Men, always ready to accept blame, obsequious and groveling. In the few instances where Nail-Men have managed to gather in great enough numbers to truly be a threat, it is the result of these individuals and their slavish devotion, fixing the mistakes, patching the holes, carefully keeping the machine running behind the scenes. In most cases, these dutiful sycophants will simply be used and then disposed of once their utility has faded, or the amusement to be derived from their abuse has grown tiresome. They will be ruined, and forced to retire back to normal life, nursing their petty grudges.
Occasionally, a toady will be favored enough to finally be "promoted". This is done with great ritual and fanfare. He will kneel before the mallet, and smile serenely as the point is gingerly placed upon his forehead. The Nail-Men will toast and shake hands, welcoming their new brother to their illustrious ranks. They will celebrate over libations long into the night. And in the morning, having forgotten none of his hatred and resentment, the newly-forged Nail-Man will begin the work of destroying each and every other Nail-Man who ever thought to look down upon him.
Once this is done, his rivals dead or else brought to kneel at his feet, broken and humiliated, he will diligently set upon the work of creating a new army of Nail-Men.