The Chronicles of Bilrach are journal pages found during dungeoneering which can be read (and later re-read by talking to the Dungeoneering tutor) to educate the reader on the history of Daemonheim. The various entries written by Bilrach, a Mahjarrat, detailing his travels through the Daemonheim Castle dungeons in search of a portal he calls "The Rift". This rift would, in theory, release the Mahjarrat god Zamorak from whatever realm Guthix banished him to after the God Wars, resulting in Zamorak rewarding Bilrach in one way or another.
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.
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 all be linked in somehow, but time does not allow for further investigation. My power now is to be used on one thing: forging through the very earth that separated me from my goal.
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 the rearguards and the servants to dig the early sections out. I won’t be wasting any of my power 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.
There has been acceptable progress since my last entry, but still I 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.
Those fools! I pity the imbeciles of my kind. To think they looked down on me and doubted the extent 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!
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 to question my rule. They dare not stand up to a Mahjarrat. They dare not question me, Bilrach, their master.
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 behind collapse and reappear elsewhere. There 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'd 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 all and use their meat to feed the other slaves. Hah! How I do amuse myself so!
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 they'll follow me deeper if they want to survive. As if I'd stop to maintain an area for them to live in!
If memory serves, I've passed the two-century mark of tunneling into this place. I feel the pull of the pour below. If I 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 must beat any who also seek it, as if they could stand up to me.
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 effectively. For my purposes only, I will slow my progress to extend a hand in helping them set up. They'll make up for this later.
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?
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 planes of existence. I must be right.
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!
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!
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 to do this; none of the others have 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...
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.
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 fools! 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.
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.
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 manged 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!
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 to themselves as the gorajo and they maneuvered 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.
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.
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.
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 Masters 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.
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.
As promised, I'm recovering whatever time and depth we have lost to the gorajo. I have found methods to push faster and farther; 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.
I pulse with it now: the power that seeps from the interplaner rift. I 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 has such influence on this world, could He not break through Himself? I must not sully my purpose with doubts: the end is too close.
While I destroy and carve through the land with a satisfying ease, the areas behind me 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 the slaves who remain strong enough to come with me. I will not look back now, I leave my problems in my wake.
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.
The end cannot be far now, I feel the dark energy around me, draining me: shouldn't it be empowering me? The voice tells me to stop writing. Have I used up all my power getting this far, or is it ebbing through other means? The voice tells me to push onwards. I know my master will have the answers. I'm still myself. I must listen to the voices and push on.