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Daemonheim, tijdens het trainen van Dungeoneering.

Informatie

Er bestaan zes soorten dungeoneering journals: Chronicles of Bilrach, M. and Thok Letters, Stalker, Behemoth, Kal'Gerion en miscellaneous notes.

Chronicles of Bilrach

Deel 1

Year 1225 of the 4th Age:

Finally! After four long years of bringing in weak-minded fools to follow my cause unknowingly, today is the day - the day I begin the great descent. Today, my research pays off and the journey begins; today, I journey down towards ultimate victory. My power is as true as whispers calling. Today, I begin.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 2

Year 1241 of the 4th Age:

After years of evading detection, my research finally led me to the castle above. It seems similar to that of the dragonkin of old; protectors of the artefact, enders of the Great Wars. Of course, I should have suspected It to be hidden in a manner as straightforward as this! Fools to abandon such a place; why would they move on? It must be all linked somehow, but time does not allow for further investigation. My power is now to be used on one thing: forging through the very earth that seperates me from my goal.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 3

Year 1266 of the 4th Age:

Many of the weak-minded servants and slaves are moving with me as I go deeper. What curiosity or purpose drives them? I didn't even have to force many of them. I cannot dwell; as much as I hate to admit it, I need them for now. I must have rearguards and servants to dig the early sections out. I won't be wasting any of my power on doing this; I'll save myself for a challenge worthy of me taking a more frontal role. For now, I'll have to settle for the role of slavedriver.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 4

Year 1285 of the 4th Age:

There has been acceptable progress since my last entry, but I still crave for more. I will have to work on re-awakening my lost power. While my mighty slumber restored a large amount of power, it was once again lost in my great search for this place. Evading detection required some interesting methods and many disguises, which has again left me drained. I have faith. In time, my full power will return once more and, when it does, I shall break through the world with such a fury as to make Him proud.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 5

Year 1312 of the 4th Age:

Those fools! I pity the imbeciles of my kind. To think they looked down on me and doubted the extend of my power! Pathetic. Zemouregal, if he could only see me now, he would not be so quick to judge my abilities. I have no doubt that he'll be wasting his time on some lost cause for power that he'll never obtain. They'll see my true strength in due time; they'll see who will be sacrificed, they'll tremble at the mention of my name!

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 6

Year 1324 of the 4th Age:

The area I've broken into below is beginning to exude more heat. It might even be suitable for my minions to dwell here, to more efficiently serve my cause. Those who refuse to move here out of fear of my power, I will just force or kill. They dare not question the power of my rule. They dare not stand up to a Mahjarrat. They dare not question me, Bilrach, their master.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 7

Year 1337 of the 4th Age:

The soil I tunnel through is like no other. Someone or something has created this place as some sort of safeguard. Sometimes, when I use my magic to carve through, the areas collapse and reappear elsewhere. This is some magical force at play here that is hard to comprehend. Recently, many of my servants were cut off - they said the dungeon I forged had a different layout from when they left.

On the topic of servants, they are more frail than I feared. The giants last longer, but they can no longer fit into the small tunnels their human counterparts dig. I'll just slay them and use their meat to feed the other slaves. Hah! How I do amuse myself so!

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 8

Year 1403 of the 4th Age:

It turns out that I was right: the area above has begun to cool to freezing. My servants are moving deeper with me; it was pleasant to see them do it voluntarily for a change. Perhaps they believe themselves to be with me in this great descent? Ha! They'll last as long as their use permits, and if they'll follow me deeper, they want to survive. As if I'd stop to maintain an area for them to live in!

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 9

Year 1424 of the 4th Age:

If memory serves, I've passed the two-century mark of tunnelling into this place. I feel the pull of the power below. If I can reach the bottom, great reward will be mine and the world will burst open as I dominate the kingdoms of this frail world. Enough, I must return to my work. I cannot guarantee that I am the only one seeking this, and I must beat any who also seek it, as if they could stand up to me.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 10

Year 1446 of the 4th Age:

Yet more meatsacks have perished under these conditions. Why they insist on sleeping and eating once or twice a week irritates me to no end. They leave me no choice but to mate them up and breed new offspring to continue my journey.

The depth I have reached is of a different potency to the above. The rock and heat are suitable for simple beings to survive. Obviously a powerful being such as myself has no problem moving on, but this would probably be the best depth for my slaves to settle so they can serve me more efficiently. For my purposes only, I will slow my progress so extend a hand in helping them set up. They'll make up for this later.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 11

Year 1464 of the 4th Age:

I'm as clear of mind as the day I started this descent. My methods and the nature of this place may seem random, but I've yet to use the more dangerous and unstable side of my power. My sanity is unwavering; hearing whispers from the earth below is not a sign of my mind breaking, it merely confirms I am getting closer and should continue down. Should I be concerned that the whispers try to guide me?

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 12

Year 1505 of the 4th Age:

Progress is frustratingly slow, as of late, but it is progress at least. I'm nearing the end with every day and I must retain my focus, my drive. I know what dwells at the bottom - there is only one thing powerful enough that can emanate power across the planes of existence. I must be right.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 13

Year 1533 of the 4th Age:

Finally, those fools near the surface who refused to follow were forced by their need to survive! To think I didn't have to lift a hand in the end. Today, I hear a mass of exodus, all moving down to this depth. I know this is a higher power's doing, bending the will of the world to my cause. I continue.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 14

Year 1573 of the 4th Age:

Forty years have passed since my last entry and, finally, this area is completely self-sustaining. A working chain of production has been created amongst my slaves. The digging should be far more efficient and, more importantly, I have a solid rearguard if any choose to come after me. As if anyone would try to follow in my footsteps now!

On the subject of slaves, I've had great success in my breeding program. I've taken the strength of the giants, the skin of the goblin and the size and basic intelligence of a human, and created a barely adequate but much-improved slave. Conditioning has sped up progress also. I've even bred them to believe pain is good for them! They'll literally work until they drop dead where they are!

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 15

Year 1461 of the 4th Age:

Is it fate that significant progress is made on the anniversary of my start date? Four hundred years of careful destruction and here I am, nearing the half-way mark! If I can make it half-way, I can make it all the way. I swear my power increases the deeper I go. It will not be long before I unleash on this earth. I will be closer to the end than the start. Soon, I will be at the Rift!

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 16

Year 1645 of the 4th Age:

Centuries have passed since I awoke, but, still, there has been no sign or word of the others. Pathetic. I see now why He chose me as His second in command. If the creation and summoning of the mighty Tsutsaroth demon for Him wasn't a sign that I am worthy of that title, what I am doing now will be. None of the others dare do this; none of the others have to power to do this; none of the others have the focus to do this. They settle for scrabbling around with what is left and they will be punished for their lack of faith. Curious, I still feel the presence of K'ril in this realm...

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 17

Year 1693 of the 4th Age:

It turns out that I have been rewarded for my time creating the area above for my workers to inhabit, as it will serve as a powerful hub to the surface and help speed my progress. Even so, the fact that they fear the depth below is a concern. Thankfully, I can force a lot of the cowards, but I fear it won't be enough to make quick progress. The time may be coming for me to use some unstable methods.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 18

Year 1724 of the 4th Age:

A disgrace! I thought losing servants out of fear to the depth was bad, but now rebellion? I quashed this before it had a chance. Two treacherous fools dared attack me? History will mark this day: the day Astea Frostweb and Lexicus Runewright were enslaved by the mighty Bilrach and split for all eternity. They thought their combined magical ability could stand up to me? Small-minded fool! They will never be together again and will serve my purpose as guards of my great dungeon forever. There will be no further uprisings after that demonstration.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 19

Year 1731 of the 4th Age:

A new depth has been reached and it is weak to my magic. Using portal magic should be safe enough here. If the portal network is successful, I can not only dump our waste and effluence into another realm, but I can search for powerful creatures to enslave and defend my great work here.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 20

Year 1824 of the 4th Age:

Nearly a century passes and I have been rewarded. Portal magic was the best move I could have made, and it has reinvigorated my enthusiasm for this project. Not only am I able to draw power from the portals as I once did, but I've managed to enslave ever-more powerful and destructive beasts. The stalkers, the lumbering behemoths and the curiously noble Kal'Gerions are all creatures of my will now, defending my great work as if it were their own. Those who search for me and follow my footsteps will have brutal obstacles to overcome. Now, to find something even more powerful!

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 21

Year 1890 of the 4th Age:

I hazard to call it a disaster, but something grossly unwanted has happened. One of my portals malfunctioned and a race of troublesome creatures crept through without me noticing. They refer themselves as the gorajo and they manoeuvred against me from the very start; their culture despises the reanimation of the dead and the summoning of demons, it seems. The backward fools. While my powers are great, they have a habit of keeping out of sight, so I fear this will be a long fight.

Zamorak guide me!

Deel 22

Year 1911 of the 4th Age:

Curse the gorajo! The air here is turgid with magic, and no matter how many times I close the portal to their realm, another reopens. I've decided to forge on; those pathetic creatures will pay later. I will reach the Rift soon and come back to destroy them once and for all.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 23

Year 0 of the 5th Age:

I've heard that some are calling this the beginning of the Fifth Age; it would seem suitable if they weren't calling it The Age of Man. Bah! I rename it The Age of Reckoning! I will allow the humans three hours to celebrate, and then we work again. I will not allow them any longer than that: revelry leads to rebellion, and I cannot afford to massacre them as we get so close.

Praise to be Zamorak!

Deel 24

Year 5 of the 5th Age:

This is it. The area below is weaker than the bedrock I have been forging through, and my magic carves through it like saw through flesh. This must be fate's reward for seeking the interplanar portal below, the portal that separates me from my Master's realm of banishment. To think He could have been banished and contained! Vile trickery...

I, Bilrach will find this Rift, where the barrier between realms thins.

I, Bilrach, will re-open it and release my Master upon this world once more.

I, Bilrach will release Zamorak!

Deel 25

Year 24 of the 5th Age:

Curse the blasted gorajo! They've wasted more time and progress than I care to expend. Their elders and children will pay for their misdeeds. I vow, here and now, that I will sunder their world with the power I acquire at the bottom of this place. Blast them and their cowardly raids, their burning of the beams and struts, and their plundering of our resources.

Zamorak be praised, gorajo be damned!

Deel 26

Year 45 of the 5th Age:

As promised, I'm recovering whatever time and depth we have lost to the gorajo. I have found methods to push faster and faster; my portals rip through floors like never before, and anything I leave behind is dumped as waste in the gorajo realm. Let their families pay the price for their warriors slowing me down! I grin to think of the welcome they'll be given by their families when they return home.

Zamorak be praised!

Deel 27

Year 79 of the fifth age.

I pulse with it now: the power that seeps from the interplanar rift. It cannot be far, and we progress with exhilarating speed. I question whether my proximity to my master has meant that he lends his power to mine. Wait - if He had such influence on this world, could He not break through himself? I must not sully my purpose with doubts. The end is too close.

Zamorak be praised!

Deel 28

Year 113 of the fifth age:

While I destroy and carve through the land with a satisfying ease, the areas behind are becoming alarmingly unstable. Just today, one collapsed and the interplanar shockwaves caused the earth about it to warp and corrupt. While this corruption is concerning, I refuse to be stopped; I move on and force those  slaves who remain strong enough to come with me. I will not look back now, I leave my problems in my wake.

Zamorak be praised!

Deel 29

Year 137 of the Fifth Age:

His whispers have turned to voices, and I am close to Him now. I am but a few years from the end; yet, I fear the progress will be slow. So much of my power is spent defensively, propping up the floors that threaten to crash down upon me. The floors above are warped, out of control and dangerously unstable. I have trouble containing them, so, instead, I have chose to protect just myself. That being said, what followers I left behind are now lost to corruption, and I fear that a foe will rise that even I could not deal with. Still, I move on alone; if I make it a little deeper, this area will serve as a challenge for anyone who tries to reach me.

Zamorak guide me!

Deel 30

Niet beschikbaar.

M. and Thok Letters

Deel 1

Little sister,

Cheating, blasted, cheap magic! I've said it before, but I mean it more than ever. Our paranoid seers have waved their magic wands across the dungeon entrance and made every item that crosses it, save our undercrackers and overclothes, too heavy to bear. Thok lasted a few steps, of course, but even he had to make his excuses and ditch his battleaxe.

Still, it's not only our seers who think we're at the source of the wave of power: Thok's shackles have raised too. Strike me if I don't believe 'em all: we're a few floors beneath an ancient castle in a dungeon that's soaked with magic and lively with beasts. Got me thinking: if something is here, you can be sure that Thok'll find it first. I'm going to find a moment to break from the clan and go it alone with just Thok. Where there's power an there's many, I plan to carry away armfuls of the stuff.

Your older brothers,

M. and Thok

Deel 2

Little sister,

Hell, I miss you. I know that doesn't sound much like me, but I have good reason. Since we split from the rest of the clan, we've been getting by with our plain clothes and fists, but theres been one close call too many. Time has come to arm us, dress us and feed us, and you do that better than any I know.

So, I'm scribbling this on an anvil, having made a battleaxe, sword and a couple of platebodies. The workmanship is about the shoddiest I've ever seen, but I get a buzz from looking at them!

It's the materials, though, Bryll; there's stuff here that you've never seen: metals strong and completely alien, and strange plants that can be spun to make boots. Since you're what keeps us moving, we've named the boot material after you. I ain't told Thok yet, but he's wearing Marmaros armour; couldn't resist giving my name to the metal.

Your older brothers,

M. and Thok

Deel 3

Little sister,

Thok has gone berserk. The lughole won't wait for me now, and I'm following a trail of ash and creature bones. Only yesterday, I'd been slipping out of Thok's shadow to carve into the bats, shades and warriors that would try to flank him, and he'd been spraying the walls with their innards. But today, we came upon something out of a hellish fairy tale. Hanging from the ceiling was an eyeball, swaying on its stalk and dripping goo on the floor.

Thok was on it from the start, but the eyeball secreted some terrible spittle that kept me rooted. I would have retched if I could move any muscle in my body, instead, I could only watch as Thok wrestled it from its stalk. Problem is, Thok reckons I'm in over my head, so he's blitzing a clear patch for me to follow. Only thing that stops the sentimental, thuggish fool is the keys, puzzles and locked doors, if they didn't slow him down, I swear he'd be at the bottom of this dungeon by now.

Your older brothers,

M. and Thok

Deel 4

Little sister,

We met someone today. That's 'met' in the talking sense, rather than the stabbing, crushing and gouging way that we've gotten used to over the past week. (Has it really been a week? Damn what a place this is.) That someone was a she, and in her own way, she was pretty. Said she was a gorajo, and she wasn't new to seeing humans like us. We parted on good terms and she handed Thok some 'primal gloves', given to any gorajo who braves the 'warped pits'. Looks like fancy-pants gauntlets, but Thok's wearing them with a gormless smile on his face. The hairy fool is in love.

The good news isnow, that I held my own. Thok had to rein in his huge swing, for fear of hitting 'his lass' with the battleaxe, so I was able to nip in and do most of the work. Who knows, perhaps Thok is happier about fighting by my side now?

Your older brothers,

M. and Thok

Deel 5

Little sister,

Honestly, who would be crazy enough to use a book as a weapon? Mad Melzar maybe, but there's no telling if he's even alive anymore. Just our luck, then, that we stumble upon a crazy libraromancer, or whatever you want to call him, who pelts us with books rather than, I don't know, rocks, or weapons or the bones of the dead. This place must have a hell of a grip on the mind. The books got me thinking about why I write these letters.

There's the obvious reason: it takes my mind off this endless dungeon, but I think that's missing the point. Even with Thok, the human shield, I can't help but feel that we won't make it. These letters are little scraps of our story, and I naively hold onto a hope that you'll get them, or someone else will find them useful. With the rest of my illiterate clan above us (hell, they make a lot of noise) that hope seems misplaced, but you can never tell.

Your older brothers,

M. and Thok

Deel 6

Little sister,

Marm got stomped, but not so bad that he dead. I protected him best as I could, so please don't get mad at me. The big stomp creature so strong and fast, faster than Thok, but not as strong. I mashed up eels for Marm as they made me upchuk anyway. I hope Marm will live and write to you again. That always makes him feel better.

I can't hear the noisy feet of my friends above us anymore. Whoever at bottom of the dungeon is Thok's now.

Your older brother,

Thok

Deel 7

Little sister,

Guthix bless Thok! He's looked after me in the most random and unexpected way! I came back to consciousness with the body of a dead icefiend thethered to my leg. An icefiend! Which side of the line does that fall on: madness or genius? So, thanks to the wayward logic of my brother, my pain has numbed and I am up and about again. From Thok's broad smile, he has missed me. He looks thinner, having had no one to cook for him, and there is a deep gouge in his side from a fight that must have come close to besting him. I try not to think about how far upwards he must have travelled to get the icefiend for me. Thok may not have a brain, but his heart could beat for both of us.

M. and Thok

Deel 8

Little sister,

Thok's wound is festering, be damned! I could have... should have... noticed and cleaned it earlier, but I got distracted by my own wounds: and so here we are, in dungeons that are fetid and rank with corruption; sores have welted on the side of the wound, and it's in a bad temper, giving off a rotten aroma. It gets worse, little sister. The wound is like catnip to the undead on this occultish floor, and they stagger after us in their hundreds. With Thok flagging and more enemies than ever coming for us - even as we sleep - I worry that we have reached our limit, as I've certainly reached mine. My concern is that Thok will not turn back until he has reached the end of this place, like a pebble striking the bottom of a well. Is there glory to be found in that?

M. and Thok

Deel 9

Little sister,

I can't think or sleep for worries. When'd I get like this, Bryll? Terrible visions of the future plague me: you, begging for gold pieces in the alleys of Varrock; Thok's wound, cankerousstruts, and rotten, opening to reveal a giant eye; and me, tongue rolled to the back of my throat, as I am prepared to be eaten by the warped creatures of this place. I... I can barely walk forward any more now Bryll, and Thok will not look at me any more. He says that I am not myself and won't talk to me until 'his Marm' comes back. Bless the brute - imagine being so empty of any concerns or doubts.

We are down one floor shy of sixty (I have notches on my primal sword hilt), and a huge hulking beast awaits us in the next room. That's nothing remarkable, but the thought of another battle seems to ebb all energy from me. It's like my hope and will-to-survive have been devoured. I... I think I just want to say goodbye, Bryll.

M.

Deel 10

 

Littul sister,

Thok never been as angry as I am now. I will explain to you, Bryll, but it will take more words than Thok ever written before.

Every floor that Thok and Marm go down in the dungeon, Thok wanted to break skulls, break the walls that hold up the dungeon, break leg off that holding Thok back. Then Thok get to bottom of dungeon, there was no evil wizard to kill, no big boss to tear in half, no dagger-moth throat to slit. Nothing. Nothing but a body, dead and wriggling with maggots.

So, Thok and Marm sat. Silent. We come so far and nothing wait for us, no death nor gold nor women.

It was at that point that words started speaking in Thok's head, saying horrible things and filling head with hate.

Same must have happen in Marm's head. Marm began to cry, tried to slit own throat with sword, but Thok broke Marm's arms and draped him over shoulder. Marm passed out, which for the best.

Thok sat some more, try to think of what to do in the darkness. Then a man comes. Man looks Fremennik but smells clean. Man has white beard and say words that hurts Thok: 'You not chosen for this'. 'You die if you see what really is down there'. Bah! Man makes Thok so angry!

Bright man is more powerful than Thok - Thok can smell that much. Man heal Thok's leg and unbreak Marm's arms, but he say that Marm cannot continue, that Marm is close to going mad. He wants to take us to the surface, to take us away from this place, and will not take no as answer. Thok so angry, Bryll, but knows that man is right. Thok could not let Marm go mad. Marm is strong mind to Thok's strong blade. So, we return to surface after so long here.

Will anyone believe Thok? I leave letter in hope that someone can make it here. That mean someone must show strength of Thok. Thok fear that no-one will see this in Thok's lifetime. It sad thought.

M. and Thok

Stalker Notes

Deel 1

Fourth Age, year 1832. Date unknown.


Of all the creatures our Master has brought through from other realms, the stalkers are by far the greatest triumph. Their very form is weapon in itself, floating grotesqueries that are essentially giant eyeballs, or clusters of eyeballs, with vicious maws in places none would expect. They also command great control over magic; even the rank and file stalkers and the smaller seekers have great resistance to the magicks of our world.

The dark, twisted energies that are so rife in their home plane, coupled with the inherent magical nature of the beasts themselves, have allowed several unique and powerful stalkers to develop from chaotic evolution.

One such unique example calls itself 'Plane freezer Lakhrahnaz' in our tongue. I regret asking it to state its name in its own tongue, as the resultant combination of both audible and inaudible sound from its many lipless mouths gave me a huge headache and caused blood to cascade from my nose, which Lakhrahnaz then froze. This one has great power over temperature, and I believe the best place for it is near the surface, where the environment is cold, barren, and most importantly - far away from me.

Deel 2

4th Age, year 1832. Date unknown.


The stalkers build nests formed of a combination of debris and biological matter that they produce and spit from their gaping maws. They mainly use their nests for resting and growing, but also to spawn in them. The creatures reproduce asexually, from what i have witnessed; a single eye with a snake-like optic nerve slid out of one of the creature's eye sockets, burrowing into the nest and out of sight, presumably to grow.

I have such knowledge of stalker nests because a particularly powerful one calling itself 'Night-gazer Khighorahk' has set one up in what used to be my private chamber. I came back to find my enchanted torches extinguished, and an unnatural darkness.
When I lit one of the torches, the creature shrieked and recoiled, lashing at me with its tentacles. I extinguished my light source, and the creature regained its composure. It seems this creature is at home in darkness, and uses the cloak of shadows to its advantage.


I have decided it is in my best interests to requisition new private quarters and leave the best to its doings; we will soon be moving down further to rejoin the Master anyway, and this creature will act as a powerful guardian against any daring to follow us.

Deel 3

Fourth age, year 1832. Date unknown.

The stalkers are intelligent creatures, and are capable of startlingly intellectual conversation in our tongue. The varying magicks that the different types of stalkers use also shows that they are each capable of independent thought. The creatures also seem to react to others far away from them, indicating some kind of shared consciousness. The stalkers are a strange and powerful race, and I'm glad they chose to ally with us, instead of rallying against us. Such powerful, intelligent creatures could have caused our Master serious hindrance.

The stalker I saw today is, as usual, different from the rest by some degree. For a start, this creature cannot, or does not, fly. It drags it mass among the ground when it is forced to move; however, it tends to suspend from whatever is available using long tentacles. The creature has poisoned itself above the ladder that leads from this floor of the dungeon to the next; a perfect position to guard the only point of access to the next floor from interlopers.

This stalker calls itself 'Shadow Forger Ihlakhizan' and wields both light and darkness to attack its foes. I witnessed it disposing of a slave who tried to flee the dungeons. While the slave was fighting it, Ihlakhizan let out a brilliant flash of light, disorienting the fool. In a panic, he fled and took refuge in the shadows, which engulfed and devoured him, leaving no trace that he was ever there. This creature is by far the most unnerving and grotesque of the stalkers I have witnessed thus far. I will be glad when we abandon this floor, and move on to the next one.

Deel 4

4th Age, year 1832. Date unknown.

My studies into the stalkers have given me a reputation among the other mages, as if my findings are less worthwhile than their empty parlour tricks. They cannot see the magnificence of the stalker, the repugnant wonder that fills you whenever you stare into their eyes. Just yesterday, I stumbled upon another reason to admire them. While I sat and sketched in a stalker nesting pool, a bovimastyx wandered in. Before I could shepherd it back out, a large single-eyed stalker rose from the pools and began circling it, its single pupil flashing with some form of luminescence. I sat back down and took notes, while the bovimastyx whinnied and looked understandably uncomfortable.

Halting suddenly, the stalker flashed a red pupil and exploded with a thunderous crack, knocking the mastyx to the floor, bloody and stunned. I could only watch in fascination as smaller stalkers slipped from the larger stalker's carcass and began to devour both the body of the mastyx and what must have been their mother. A wondrous sight.

Deel 5

4th age, year 1845:

My journals are missing, I have horrible, terrible images of Bilrach pacing through the upper floors of Daemonheim, poring over any disrespectful entry and tearing it out - littering the floors with my prose. Indeed, everything written has gone missing from my offices: the requisition forms, the environmental notes, the written pieces I have collected on my travels. Nothing good can come of this. I fear a terrible cloud hangs over me in these weatherless depths.

There is nothing left to do: I must continue as if all is well, and merely hope. My next task is to research a creature newly come to this plane; Bilrach has asked me to write notes on Shukarhazh, a stalker that is remarkable because it is so unremarkable. It is neither aggressive or communicative. It shall be a curious case, and it could yield useful results in taming of the stalkers - but my dark cloud also has a voice, and that voice tells me that this stalker is by no means benign. Bilrach, be merciful; let this not be a trap.

Grondaban.

Behemoth Notes

Deel 1

4th Age, year 1824. Date unknown.


Our master's experimentation with portals to other realms has brought us many interesting creatures. One of the most significant races discovered are the ones we call the behemoths.
These vast creatures are physically powerful, and some even possess some latent magical powers. Unfortunately, they are not evolved to the point of communication, and are capable only of following natural instinct, not instruction. A pity, but they still have their uses.


We shall place them throughout the dungeons as guard dogs. There is a particular strain of behemoth that is well suited to the frozen-over areas near the surface. It has a thick hide, and is entirely driven by a natural desire to feed. In these barren, frozen areas, food will be more scarce, and I believe this creature will fight all the more fiercer for it.

Deel 2

4th Age, year 1824. Date unknown.


The more I see of the behemoths, the more impressed I am with the diversity of sub-strains within the same race. The analogy I gave you of dogs is more appropriate than I had imagined; numerous creatures of various sizes and psychological characteristics are all part of the same genome and share only a basic shape.


The latest strain brought to my attention is one I have affectionately dubbed the 'bulwark best' on account of its hard, rock-life outer shell, and the adorable shield-life mandibles it employs to protect itself from incoming attacks. These creatures are essentially invulnerable, as long as their shield remains intact, with only magic having even a a modicum of effect on them before the shield is removed. These creatures make excellent guardians, so, I shall place them in areas of the dungeon that we no longer concern ourselves with inhabiting, in order to ensure that even the areas we have long forgotten pose a challenge to interlopers.

Deel 3

Fourth Age, year 1824. Date unknown.


The plane the behemoths come from is a vast, open wasteland. It stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction, and different areas have wildly differing climates - permanent blizzards to scorching desert to salt marshes devoid of almost all life. This has allowed for the astronomical difference in physical attributes the creatures display. Their skeletal structure remains similar throughout strains, but the hardness of their hides, shape of their mandibles and claws, the bulk upon their bones and their size vary greatly.


The specimen that I was brought before today is one extreme example of these creatures' diversity. I was brought before it and not the other way around, because only part of it could fit through the portal to our realm. What I stood before was a huge face with claw-like mandibles, angrily thrashing about and trying to force the rest of its ample frame trough the portal. I decided to leave it as it was; the portal it had come trough was directly in front of a door we needed guarding, and, as long as we bait the portal daily, it will spend most of its time guarding it.

I have instructed my underling manges to set up similar 'arrangements' with other specimens of similar size, all over the area we now inhabit. They will keep us well-protected from interlopers and cannot get deep enough into our realm to devour anyone of an intelligence level that renders them worth keeping. In the event we need to get through any of the doors, all we need do is close the portal to be rid of the beast, it an admittedly  horrifying, albeit amusing, manner.

Deel 4

Fourth age, year 1828. Date unknown.

The behemoth have never been a stable race, or particularly predictable. They may be useful, but their influences and actions have meant losing two years of digging through cave-ins and countless resources being spent on taming them, often with no luck. Our problems stem from them being near-impossible to kill or herd back their portals should they become unruly. Once they are here, they are here permanently, it seems. Runebinding is the elegant but expensive solution, whereby an behemoth is infused with rune magic and then controlled by magical pulses. from a series of pillars. Lexicus came up with the system, before his mind wandered, and we haven't been able to improve on it ever since.

Deel 5

Fourth Age, year 1824. Date unknown.

I try to spend as little time with the hope devourers as possible; indeed, the rooms about their pens are often empty and few handlers dare to venture close. This should make feeding them difficult, but the truth is far more interesting: when bovinmastyx are herded into a devourer pen, they file quietly towards the devourers and drop to the floor, accepting their fate. Some even nuzzle the devourer's maw, as if willing themselves into its mouth, and, naturally, the hope devourers oblige. This hopelessness is fascinating, and that fascination is obviously shared by Bilrach. He spends many hours with them, feeding off their energies as they feed off his. He returns invigorated, and they seem stronger for it.

Kal'Gerion Notes

Deel 1

Fourth age, year 1837. Date unknown.

The Kal'Gerion demons that our Master has brought to us through his experimentation with portals are powerful allies indeed. These demons were already an army when they were contacted by our Master. After a brief demonstration of his power, their leader, Kal'Ger the Warmonger, pledged allegiance to our Master, and began ordering his armies as he instructed. The rank and file Kal'Gerion demons are essentially lesser and greater demons as the rest of the world knows them.

The significant Kal'Gerions are the generals in the army. The one known as To'Kash has great magical powers, and can manipulate moisture and temperature levels in his environment. He has been stationed in the cold upper levels of the dungeons, where he can make most use of his powers - with the amount of cold moisture already in the air, he can encase anything in a large block of ice with a mere snap of his demonic fingers. His favourite party trick is to freeze something alive, and shatter it with a mighty blow of his fist, leaving a pile of fragmented ice, bone and blood in his wake.

Deel 2

Fourth age, year 1837. Date unknown.

The Kal'Gerion army has a very simple military structure: Kal'Ger is the leader, his five generals are immediately below him, and the lesser and greater demons make up the rank-and-file fodder.
These order themselves by strength, constantly battling for supremacy, competing to rank the highest among the lowest.

One general in the Kal'Gerion army is Har'Lakk, known as the Riftsplitter. The demon uses portals to other planes in a very interesting and unorthodox  way. The one time I witnessed him fight, he opened a portal in the ground of his plane to the point above an erupting vulcano in another, and the explosion of flames, ash and magma, incinerated his opponent effortlessly.

This ingenious and inpredictable use of portal magic makes him a highly effective combatant. He can control his combat environment and create deadly hazards for his opponents at will, making the ground beneath them as much their enemies as Har'Lakk himself.

Deel 3

Fourth Age, year 1837. Date unknown.

The Kal'Gerion demons hold power of all forms in high esteem. The generals brought before me, up to this point, have been users of various kinds of magic, and it is good to know that raw brute strength is recognised and held in high regard among the Kal'Gerion.

Bal'Lak the Pummeller, the latest of the Kal'Gerion generals to be placed in my charge, is everything that  epitomises a raging demon. He smashes thing with his two huge hammers, as hard and as fast as he can. His blows are so powerful and the rage running through him so fierce, that his hammer blows carve cracks in the ground, out of which bubbling magma and noxious fumes rise.

For this reason, I have decided to post him in the abandoned area of the dungeons just above our current habitation and ritual area. The potential for collateral damage should he get into a fight is large, and I would like to keep our current habitat, well, habitable.

Deel 4

Fourth age, year 1837. Date unknown.

Bilrach was presented with the face of a dead Kal'Gerion at banquet today, which intrigued me. It seems that, when in the presence of a superior, a Kal'Gerion will offer a gift from the body of a demon they bested in combat. The more powerful demons, meanwhile, know that they cannot be bested in one-on-one battle, so taunt and belittle the smaller demons, goading them into fighting each other.

I think of one Kal'Gerion as I write this, Yk'Lagor the Thunderous who thinned his ranks by forcing them to kill eachother, and then demanded new troops be brought in from the Kal'Gerion realm. Mages report to me that Yk'Lagor is still in the occult floors of this dungeon, being bled of this power as a lesson to those greater demons who would question Bilrach. The display of power should mean that Bilrach receives more Kal'Gerion body parts in the future.

Deel 5

Fourth Age, year 1837. Date unknown.

There is a volatile respect between Bilrach and Kal'Ger, and it is easy to see how the unlikely alliance has persisted. Kal'Ger, for all of his petulant rage and sulky retreats to the demon forge - has gained the utter respect of a nation. His demons have installed him as their leader and taken his name as their own. Bilrach, I suspect, dreams of that depth of respect; his charges meekly die or serve him out of fear or lack of choice. In Bilrach, Kal'ger sees an unfettered power and raw power is the currency of the demon nation. In Kal'Ger, Bilrach sees the respect he expects to gain from finding our master. They are a dysfunctional family, but a potent and powerful one.

Miscellaneous

Deel 1 - Astrea Frostweb's journal

4th Age, year 1724. Date unknown.

Entry 1

It has been five years since Lexicus and I first signed up with Bill to assist in his work. It pains me to be away from my Lex. He is deeper beneath the ground, but I prefer the temperature up here as I am used to the cold climate. I shall visit my Lex later in his library; I have gone starved of his embrace for too long.

Bill claims we are digging toward the biggest magical discovery in the history of RuneScape, and, with what I have witnessed here, deep beneath the surface of the world my love and I left behind, I become more convinced every day it is true. I can only postulate to what awaits us at the culmination of all our efforts.

Entry 2

I have been asked to perform some peculiar tasks today - troubling almost. Bill has asked Lexicus and I to create various magical traps and obstacles on the floors of the dungeons above us. The reasoning he has given is to ensure progress continues unhindered from uninvited guests, but the traps and mechanisms he is asking us to build seem just as capable of keeping people trapped inside the dungeons as they are keeping unwanted visitors at bay. I am beginning to grow suspicious of Bill's motives. I will take my concerns to my beloved; perhaps, together, we can make sense of this.

Entry 3

Lexicus has uncovered a truth too horrible to comprehend. We must kill Bill. We go now to confront him, and put an end to this madness. May the gods protect us.

Deel 2 - Troll scrawlings

Fings wot I've eaten' in dis place:

Day wun: Icy bones. Good name. me called dat now.

Day too: Ice spider. Crunchy. Tastes good.

Day free: Rocks. Tastes same as uvver rocks, but arder. Teef 'urt.

Day four: Nuffink. Teef still 'urt.

Day five: Noisy human wearin' fur.

Day sicks: Fur. Taste okay. Froat itchy now.

Deel 3 - Environmental effects (part 1)

Fifth Age, year 46. Date unknown.

As we get ever-closer to whatever it is our Master seeks at the bottom of this place, the effect it is having on our world becomes more apparent. The very materials around us have warped under its influence, with previously unknown materials emerging constantly. At first, we began discovering small deposits in the deepest areas of the dungeons only; however, shortly after, similar discoveries were made further up the dungeons, until even the frozen-over areas built nearly 1,000 years ago were populated by these strange deposits: metals, new types of tree, new plants. All of these have emerged since we started the dig.

I can only postulate that whatever lies at our destination, deeper still beneath the ground, is something of such great power that it can change, alter, and dare I say, taint the physical properties of matter in our world.

Deel 4 - Divine skinweaver's journal

Each day my shame gets harder to bear, like an ox dragging a mountain to which a pebble is added every day. Of the skinweavers, I alone was chosen to accompany the party that my brethren sent through to the Dark One's realm. My task was to keep them alive. I am all that remains. The failure of my task is as clear as mountain spring. I cannot return to the gorajo. I will not inflict my shame upon my people.

I will remain in this world, and do what I can to aid those strong or foolhardy enough to challenge the Dark One. This area is full of unstable passages to other worlds that bring unspeakable beings into this one. I seek to stem the flow of evil, to protect the ones from this world from the fate that befell my brethren. Perhaps they can succeed where I could not, and I can take some semblance of comfort from knowing I helped the ones who may one day avenge my fallen brethren, and lift even a little of this mountain of shame from my shoulders.

Deel 5 - Hobgoblin scrawlings

I wake up today and me have thought. I am hobgoblin, I have magic. Hobgoblin don't normally have magic. I special. I chosen by Big High War God to lead army. I lead big tribe, have big army, and conquer tall ones with keen blades. world for Big High War God!

I make rules of army.

1 - Big High War God better than everything

2 - Me better than everything (but not Big High War God)

That enough rules. Finish later. More smelly tall ones been spotted. Why they keep coming in my house? I make big house underground so I be left alone, but tall ones keep coming down in my house. I go teach them a lesson.

For Big High War God!

Deel 6 - The price of betrayal

To all who read: beware. This is the cost of defying our Master's will. Give yourself to the Master, or he will take everything that makes you human, and, in unliving servitude, you shall spend the rest of time taking the lives of others to slow your decay to nothingness. If you refuse to work in life, you will work forever in undeath.

Hail Bilrach!

Hail Zamorak!

Deel 7 - Equipment requisition receipts

Requisition Order #739

Name: Rammernaut Hoskins

Position: Captain of the Rammernaut Guard

Requested: Big mace

Fulfilled: Yes

Notes; Reasonable request. This man is huge, our standard maces are like a child's toy to him.

Requisition Order #1025

Name: Rammernaut Hoskins

Position: Captain of the Rammernaut Guard Requested: Bigger mace

Notes: The last mace which I could not even lift was like a one handed hammer to him. This calls for drastic measures.

Requisition Order #1036

Name: Rammernaut Hoskins

Position: Captain of the Rammernaut Guard Requested: Biggest mace

Fulfilled: No

Notes: Any bigger and he'd have a balance problem. The last one is more than sufficient.

Deel 8 - Lexicus runewright's journal

4th Age, year 1724. Date unknown.

Entry 1

These past five years have elapsed so quickly that, were it not for the calendar hanging on my wall - each day marked off with a tally drawn by my own hand, or that of my beloved Astea, I would refuse to believe it had been five years at all. Silence and solitude have been available in ample amounts as I chronicle our descent towards what Bill believes will be the magical discovery of a thousand lifetimes, but their appeal wears thin. Later, I shall don my fur coat and brace the cold nearer the surface; I can bear the loneliness no longer, I must see my Astea.

Entry 2

I am growing suspicious of Bill's intent. I fear paranoia has addled his mind; he has tasked Astea and myself with sealing the way from the surface, to protect the discovery from those who would take it from him. He trusts me enough to task me with this - perhaps I can get him to confide in me further. I would feel much more at ease if I knew what it was we are digging towards, and why it is so important to prevent anyone else getting in, even at the cost of their lives. I will speak with him tomorrow, but for now, I go to Astea. She has been acting strangely since we were given this task. I think she shares my concern; perhaps we can find comfort in each other's words.

Entry 3

We stand at the precipice. Bill would cast us all over into the darkest of darkness, and bring ruin to us all. Astea and I must confront him. May the gods give us strength.

Deel 9 - Ammunition requisition orders

Requisition Order #782

Name: Sagittare Bolton

Position: Captain of the sagittare archers

Requested: 1,000 Sagittarrian arrows Fullfilled: Yes

Notes: This unit goes through arrows like we go through water, but they are necessary. Arrows delivered.

Requisition Order #1012

Name: Sagittare Bolton

Position: Captain of the sagittare archers

Requested: 2,000 Sagittarrian arrows Fullfilled: Yes

Notes: Need to increase resources devoted to arrow production.

Requisition Order #1023

Name: Sagittare Bolton

Position: Captain of the sagittare archers

Requested: 3,000 Sagittarrian arrows Fullfilled: Partially. 1,250 Sagittarian arrows delivered

Notes: Arrow reserved have run out. Did not have enough arrows to meet request. Put forward request for training saggitareunit to fletch their own arrows.

Deel 10 - Bellefleur's journal

Journal, year 1845.

It's been two weeks since Griss, Radgund and I were moved from the furnished floors to stand guard in this place, and it ain't got better. Aside from messengers, the only humans here are ill and old, shipped to the necrolords, who poke and crow over them as if they're burying up meats at market. Griss is hardly ever about. He's spending his evenings looking for Radgund, who's been lost for three days now. Griss don't subscribe to the notion that the necrolords have butchered Radgund for parts, so he's up and about when he can. Just wants the three friends back again, I guess. Perhaps I shouldn't be so down; there's every chance that we could be a trio again, surviving alone in this wasted place. Perhaps.

Bellefleur.

Deel 11 - Tombstone transcription

Tombstone Transcription

I have transcribed the words written on Grave Creeper's tombstone: 'Here lieth Atlus Creeper, grave digger. His riches were bones, and he stole liberally. We ask that you steal his riches with the same abandon. May his grave be toiled, his body spoiled and the worms grow tired of being turned.' I believe that, by reading the gravestone, I have been gripped by a terrible curse, wasting my body. I can only hope that, by reading this transcription, the curse has been transferred to you. I apologise, reader, but my situation calls for desperate action. Please do not take it personally.

Radgund.

Deel 12 - Arch necrolord request

Dearest Father,

We bow to your power and understanding, but ask that healthier bodies are brought to us. The plague wastes the humans, and gnaws at the bones of the afflicted, making their reanimated bodies similarly weak; as skeletons, they topple and chatter their teeth in complaint. Although your purpose is great and the Ultimate Task is approaching, we ask, as one, that you send firmer flesh and sturdier bones for us to sculpt into an army for you. Praise be to Zamorak!

Arch Necrolord.

Deel 13 - Blink's scribblings

Where Blink? Foosh! No see Blink because Blink over here. Foosh! Foosh! Foosh! No see Blink anywhere, because Blink is everywhere! Foosh! Blink walk backwards through portal. hsoo F! Ha! Blink hit enemy both backwards and forwards Fooshoo F! Blink walk into a bar. Foosh! Blink now otherside of bar! Joke, yes? Foosh! Foosh! Blink no need friends as Blink sees other Blinks as Blink travels through portals. Foosh! Blink Blink Blink Blink. Hey Blink! Foooooooosh!

Deel 14 - Gulega missive

Good news, fellow sachem! Bilrach, like a cub playing with adders, has brought the gulega here! We, the gorajo, have adapted and evolved to fight the gulega for longer than our histories: we know where to stab and where to squeeze. Yet, Bilrach ambles into our world and brings in the gulega like a mother cat with rabid kittens in its mouth. His handlers will fail to tame them, and his stormbringers will fail to kill them; so, the gulega will run amok, hurting Bilrach more than helping him. For once, in the long back-and-forth between the gorajo and the gulega, we are on the same side working against a common enemy. Our ancestors would marvel that this was ever possible. Bilrach, you have overreached yourself, and we sing praises to you for it.

Sachem Bloodrager

Deel 15 - Resource requisition orders

Requisition Order #1445

Name: Rammernaut Hoskins

Position: Captain of the Rammernaut Guard(lower floors)

Requested: 20 Bovimastyx, 200 rotten bouldabass, 100 human carcasses, 10 salve sacks of bones

Fulfilled: No

Notes: Request was barely readable, the writing was childish, and requester failed to provide any reason for the request. No records exist for why these organic materials would be required in the lower floors. Sub-standard written skills are not accounted for in subject Hoskins' personal profile, nor is the strange jelly-like substance that covers the requisition form. Request forwarded to head of guard for further disciplinary action.

 

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