[Suzerain of Sheol]

The Chaplain looks to the young woman in disbelief.

"Do you jest, child?" His gaze narrows on Dara for a moment, seeking, and then... "No, no you do not. To think, such innocence should endure..." He looks pained to answer her. "Demons, child, pouring from the Infernal Sea. At first, there came in endless myriads, but we beat them back. We slaughtered them with the fury of God and a rain nuclear fire. They scarcely dare to rise into our lands now."

"And the dead, the mindless shambling hordes are as nothing to the horrors, the ABOMINATIONS the Abaddon has risen. Wraiths sustained on the pure malice of their ancient grudges, titans of awful power who move as a whirlwind, shrieking songs to ravage the soul. Endless, they come, and endless we blast them and sear them, raze them and ruin them, but how can we slay the dead? The Abysmal Angel holds their souls, and ever does he work new flesh to house them. His war is endless, it's outcome inevitable. We cannot survive forever."

"And Nephilim... NEPHILIM! Bastards! Whoresons and leprous! Degenerate, heinous, obscene, retarded spawn of wanton sinners! Incestuous children of rapist angels! Only by the grace of God are they so few in number, there is no torture fit to answer the atrocity, the depravity, the GOD-DAMNED PUTRESCENCE of their presence in this world."

The Chaplain falls quiet then, seemingly unaware of the vitriol in his outburst.