The oddly clothed Raven looks at the book found in the foot locker.
Leaning in close.
"Well my Lord, this here is a hideous thing in deed, it's the journal of Roger of Bolingbroke started in May of 1434. If I have my names and dates right here. He is or was, hard to tell, a renowned English astrologer and rumoured necromancer. And I have to say his handwriting is atrocious like a drunk spider, but readable."
Flicks pages with a swipe of its wings.
"What is it with humans and sex, really he goes on and on about it, endless perverse depraved confessions of sordid black masses, orgies, human sacrifices and sex, extortion for sex, rape o and the off base robbery, lots of Odd rambling and what passes for meditations. Buffoon calls himself Luciferian sorcerer. One kind of starts to feel sorry for goats! Reading this. His as 'mad as a bag of Moneys' if you ask me."
The journal slams shoot as Prince Molack got to the end.
"O and the Gardner did it"