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Scabatha's Log: Day ???

The Malchus is truly a thing of beauty! My surroundings bend to the will of my mind and the skeleton of creation is laid bare before me! So why the hell don't I have an answer yet? Despite all that I've uncovered, the true nature of demons and the force that gave rise to them is still a blur, as though something far, far greater than even the Malchus doesn't want the truth getting out. Perhaps I am not yet ready. Would an elder demon be able to see what I seemingly cannot? I danced among my mental constructs. Countless doors to countless worlds opened all around me. Though separated, they were still part of the same greater whole, like the branches of a tree. The answer must be below, where the roots lie.

Demons spread chaos and discord wherever they appear. It is as though they are lost children screaming and crying out for the love of their parents. Our very existence seems incompatible with an orderly cosmos. Perhaps our point of origin is below even the roots, a place of shadows, a reflection of the universe itself. Maybe the time for our homecoming is upon us. Though powerful, even the Malchus cannot help me here. The great search continues.

End Log

Description

Scabatha's Log: Day ???

The Malchus is truly a thing of beauty! My surroundings bend to the will of my mind and the skeleton of creation is laid bare before me! So why the hell don't I have an answer yet? Despite all that I've uncovered, the true nature of demons and the force that gave rise to them is still a blur, as though something far, far greater than even the Malchus doesn't want the truth getting out. Perhaps I am not yet ready. Would an elder demon be able to see what I seemingly cannot? I danced among my mental constructs. Countless doors to countless worlds opened all around me. Though separated, they were still part of the same greater whole, like the branches of a tree. The answer must be below, where the roots lie.

Demons spread chaos and discord wherever they appear. It is as though they are lost children screaming and crying out for the love of their parents. Our very existence seems incompatible with an orderly cosmos. Perhaps our point of origin is below even the roots, a place of shadows, a reflection of the universe itself. Maybe the time for our homecoming is upon us. Though powerful, even the Malchus cannot help me here. The great search continues.

End Log