• Conversation 1
    • Lesser demon deacon: Why do we stop, tiny human? It is detracting from my flesh-rending activities.
    • Player: Why is it always flesh rending with you? Is there really nothing else you do?
    • Lesser demon deacon: I once dreamed of a more glamorous life.
    • Player: Oh... Really?
    • Lesser demon deacon: Yes. That of an equine dentist.
    • Player: ...
    • Lesser demon deacon: Father disapproved, of course. I come from a long line of flesh renders, and he insisted I took up the family trade.
    • Lesser demon deacon: I defied my father and ran. But then I came here - to this cruel, corporeal realm, whose noble equine inhabitants are no more.
    • Lesser demon deacon: With nary a root canal to perforate, all that remained...was to rend. *sigh*
    • Player: I had to ask, didn't I?
  • Conversation 2
    • Lesser demon deacon: Come, tiny human. Let us bathe this miserable land in the blood of our enemies!
    • Lesser demon deacon: Rivers shall run red! The trees shall drink of it and grow red themselves! Then they shall all get swept away by the red rivers which shall burst their banks!
    • Player: I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that?
    • Lesser demon deacon: Worry not, tiny human. You shall grow accustomed to the red trees eventually.
    • Player: I was less concerned by the shaky botanical digression and more by the blood bath.
    • Lesser demon deacon: If my vision of the future does trouble you so, tiny human, you need not be around to bear witness.

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