Argh ... apparently not even a demon is exempt from Murphy's Law. No sooner do I notice that it has stopped snowing, and remark upon it, it starts up again! This time it's windy too, how very nice.
I do not mind snow, I do not mind blizzard conditions, as long as I do not have to venture out in them. Tomorrow, during those painfully bright daylight hours, I must venture out. My oldest minion has to attend that ritual she received a summons for earlier. Bah.
Bloody Hell. It's stopped again.
Behold my evilness! Bask in the Darkness that is my presence. All shall obey me ... or get sent to bed early.
Saturday, January 17
The snow has finally stopped. Other than my minions, Hell Hounds and personal incubus, I have not seen another living soul today, mortal or not. Eerie and strange, even for one such as myself. Cold too, but my Northern, demonic blood is well accustommed to such temperatures. Except when my HellHound, Kari, decides it's time to come in and forgets to shut the door that he opens himself. I wandered to the other side of my domain and found eight feet of snow spread from one end of the porch to the other. Do you mortals have any clue how much eight feet of snow is? Well, Demon does now! It's enough to cover a 14 x 16 foot area three inches deep in most spots. It occurs to me that Hell Hounds would make wonderful slippers.
The HellHounds are taking much delight in the two feet of snow that has descended over the last 24 hours. Still more snow falls. This side of the mortal realm looks very peaceful and very white. Blindingly white to my accustomed-to-Darkness eyes. Not a soul stirs out in the frigid landscape but for my HellHounds though. I like this ... as long as I do not have to gaze upon it.
My small coven has run into another of those strange mortal customs. This one consists of sending out vasts amounts of colourful paper, with arcane scribblings upon it and directions to use one of their weird communication devices. I availed myself of this device and learned that the little paper my coven received is a summoning for an annual ritual, directed at my oldest minion. Mortals call this a "Birthing Day".
My minion is to bring an offering of some significance, or else she shall be sacrificed to heathen gods called "Popularity". How very strange these mortals are. Do they not know that their gods are false? In my millions of years of living never once have I encountered "Popularity", yet mortals sing his praises at every turn. Silly mortals. I'll bet my next sacrificial fish that "Popularity" is merely Loki playing with a pseudonym. He always did like to tease the mortals. You'd think he'd have grown up in the last three thousand years.
My minion is to bring an offering of some significance, or else she shall be sacrificed to heathen gods called "Popularity". How very strange these mortals are. Do they not know that their gods are false? In my millions of years of living never once have I encountered "Popularity", yet mortals sing his praises at every turn. Silly mortals. I'll bet my next sacrificial fish that "Popularity" is merely Loki playing with a pseudonym. He always did like to tease the mortals. You'd think he'd have grown up in the last three thousand years.
Friday, January 16
Mortal Types That Irk The Snot Out of Me:
1. Mortals who say they will leave forever, and believe "forever" is 48 hours long.
2. Mortals who take advantage of other mortals' weak natures and soft hearts.
3. Mortals who think to control ME, the Demon of Darkness and all that is Evil.
4. Thought Police.
My oldest minion is out investigating strange mortal customs. I believe they call it a "school dance". I'm told there is lots of strange chanting, and much stomping of feet involved. I hope she gathers enough information that I, too, shall be able to infiltrate these odd customs. I like to stomp my cloven hooves and wail.
1. Mortals who say they will leave forever, and believe "forever" is 48 hours long.
2. Mortals who take advantage of other mortals' weak natures and soft hearts.
3. Mortals who think to control ME, the Demon of Darkness and all that is Evil.
4. Thought Police.
My oldest minion is out investigating strange mortal customs. I believe they call it a "school dance". I'm told there is lots of strange chanting, and much stomping of feet involved. I hope she gathers enough information that I, too, shall be able to infiltrate these odd customs. I like to stomp my cloven hooves and wail.
Thursday, January 15
During the time of Light, I brought my smallest minion to an instructor who trains him in the art of communicating with mortals. Today she focused on the "K" sound ... my evil little minion growled his disapproval at her, but cooperated when I snarled at him to behave. I hate behaving, I can imagine how my minion felt.
My bigger minion recieved sacrificial fish today. We added them to the cauldron with the other sacrificial fish. They shall be left alone for a time.
My bigger minion recieved sacrificial fish today. We added them to the cauldron with the other sacrificial fish. They shall be left alone for a time.
Wednesday, January 14
Wondering about the Demon's Realm of Darkness? My chilling abode strikes an uncanny resemblance to Dante's Ninth Level of Hell - Cocytus.
"This is the deepest level of hell, where the fallen angel Satan himself resides. His wings flap eternally, producing chilling cold winds that freeze the thick ice found in Cocytus.
You can read the full description here.
The Hell Hounds wanted in, not five minutes after going out to play in the snow. No wonder. Silly Hell Hounds. It is currently a lovely -30 degrees Celsius outside. Too chilly for my Caustic Canines, who are used to hotter realms (in other words ... basking in the hot, evil glow that is my constant presence).
Tomorrow I shall stalk the earth. Why you may ask? Because I feel like it. My demonic Northern blood demands that I do so ... or I won't have any groceries. I mean victims to feed my minions. They eat a lot you know.
"This is the deepest level of hell, where the fallen angel Satan himself resides. His wings flap eternally, producing chilling cold winds that freeze the thick ice found in Cocytus.
You can read the full description here.
The Hell Hounds wanted in, not five minutes after going out to play in the snow. No wonder. Silly Hell Hounds. It is currently a lovely -30 degrees Celsius outside. Too chilly for my Caustic Canines, who are used to hotter realms (in other words ... basking in the hot, evil glow that is my constant presence).
Tomorrow I shall stalk the earth. Why you may ask? Because I feel like it. My demonic Northern blood demands that I do so ... or I won't have any groceries. I mean victims to feed my minions. They eat a lot you know.
Ah, the Darkness, my natural habitat, has returned to the land.
When the light returns, my Incubus will desert me once more to consult with the chattering horde of Imps in a realm not far away. It is ever this way. He leaves ... some times with the daylight, sometimes with the darkness. But always my Incubus returns to me at the turning of the clock, smelling of brimstone and sulfur.
When the light returns, my Incubus will desert me once more to consult with the chattering horde of Imps in a realm not far away. It is ever this way. He leaves ... some times with the daylight, sometimes with the darkness. But always my Incubus returns to me at the turning of the clock, smelling of brimstone and sulfur.
Tuesday, January 13
Argh! The light! It burns and scalds my evil eyes!
Too many things walk the Light for me to be comfortable. Things like dentists ... and municipal officers. It shocked me that neither of these creatures shrivelled and squealed in pain when faced with my awesome powers of darkness. But the light makes them strong. Strong enough to poke the teeth of my smallest minion and barter for little metal tags to hang on the collars of my HellHounds.
Must escape the Light ...
Too many things walk the Light for me to be comfortable. Things like dentists ... and municipal officers. It shocked me that neither of these creatures shrivelled and squealed in pain when faced with my awesome powers of darkness. But the light makes them strong. Strong enough to poke the teeth of my smallest minion and barter for little metal tags to hang on the collars of my HellHounds.
Must escape the Light ...
I am all that is evil. And I can not sleep. Soon my enemy shall arise (natural light), and my currently comatose minions will stir, ready for another day at the Realm of Darkness. My Hellhounds will come to me for their mission and we will try to take over the world! Oh, sorry ... wrong cartoon. Pardon me.
The shadows are stretching ... the darkness returns and I feel vibrantly alive once more. It is not easy forcing my lazy ass (but evil) out of my chamber at the crack of dawn every time daylight returns. But I must, for my minions must learn their dark skills somewhere. Although, really. You would think a name like Realm of Knowledge of the Dark Arts would imply that it at least is located in darkness. Hell no. That would logical, wouldn't it?
Monday, January 12
Today was such a fun day.
It started like every morning, I hear the call of the Darkside, and drag my tired but evil ass out of bed. Time to rouse my little minions of course. I sat and glared while watching them consume their victims for breakfast. I think today the sacrificial cereal was a large orange tiger. I think his name was Tony.
I watched in pride as the large orange dragon came and collected my smallest minion. His studies in the dark arts will serve him well when I decide to finally unleash him upon the earth. My oldest minion took cloven purple hooves to the Realm of Knowledge of the Dark Arts. The large yellow dragon decided she has become to large to convey, and so must enter the realm on her own.
I did many evil works today whilst my minions were in the Realm of Knowledge.
With a flick of my finger I destoyed many strange particles on my eating tools.
A small imp I have trained was put to work removing my floors of all traces of my last victims.
And the Hellhounds practiced their assassin skills by lying in ambush as I wandered through my citadel of the Dark. I have considered renaming it to Citadel of Light, just so I can see my Hellhounds before I trip over them. There should be a limit to practicing assassin skills.
Tonight I corrupted an Elf. It was joyous to me to see the poor Elf struggle with her good nature, but I lured over to the Darkside, and watched with glee as she drank of the fountain of Evilness.
It started like every morning, I hear the call of the Darkside, and drag my tired but evil ass out of bed. Time to rouse my little minions of course. I sat and glared while watching them consume their victims for breakfast. I think today the sacrificial cereal was a large orange tiger. I think his name was Tony.
I watched in pride as the large orange dragon came and collected my smallest minion. His studies in the dark arts will serve him well when I decide to finally unleash him upon the earth. My oldest minion took cloven purple hooves to the Realm of Knowledge of the Dark Arts. The large yellow dragon decided she has become to large to convey, and so must enter the realm on her own.
I did many evil works today whilst my minions were in the Realm of Knowledge.
With a flick of my finger I destoyed many strange particles on my eating tools.
A small imp I have trained was put to work removing my floors of all traces of my last victims.
And the Hellhounds practiced their assassin skills by lying in ambush as I wandered through my citadel of the Dark. I have considered renaming it to Citadel of Light, just so I can see my Hellhounds before I trip over them. There should be a limit to practicing assassin skills.
Tonight I corrupted an Elf. It was joyous to me to see the poor Elf struggle with her good nature, but I lured over to the Darkside, and watched with glee as she drank of the fountain of Evilness.
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