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Being Mundy
Rplog-icon Who: Daimon Hellstrom and Balor
Where: Great Kills Park, Staten Island
When: 05-14-2014
Tone: Social, Weird
What: Daimon Hellstrom takes a relax in Great Kills Park when he encounters the Death God Balor. Who can't help but laugh at how the mighty have fallen.

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You'd be amazed what you can find in a landfill. Aside from the mundane sort of contamination, sometimes there's the spiritual kind...and that's what it was like tonight. Somehow, a cursed artifact ended up as part of the landfill. One thing led to another, a few people's souls were getting leeched, and hey presto, it's "Balor, pause that game and go snag a ghost, and I don't care that you're in the middle of Form 6 of the longest boss battle ever."

Needless to say, Balor hasn't been in a great mood tonight, and his mood got even worse as it turned out the **** thing was really, really ****in' fast. Not very powerful, but fast. Fortunately, a couple blasts from his Evil Eye tagged it along the way, and it's been weakened by now.

So it is that a half-visible, formless figure drifts into the park proper, screaming bloody murder...moments before a deep-red, mist-like beam of energy lances out, /grabs/ it, and starts to drag it struggling and screaming back towards an approaching short form that glows with blood-red lines of power. It's over in moments...the thing's far too weak, and soon enough, it's sucked into the horrible, endless blackness of Balor's Evil Eye, before the black fades back to blood-red.

Balor rubs at the Evil Eye a bit, shaking his head. "Aiden, I got it...somethin' ain' feelin' right, though, so don' go sealin' me quite yet." A pause, as he looks around, and frowns, looking irritated as he spots... "Hellstrom. ****in' figures."

Daimon rubbed his temple and looked right at the unsealed form of Balor and smirks, "Just figures! A man can't even rest on a park bench with a ****ing hangover without a ****ing death collector showing up and trying to collect."

He looked at the apparition with his inborn magical sight and said, "Oh wait it's just you Balor. Didn't recognize you with out the bratty look on your face."

"My night kinda sucks already, Hellstrom, so don' go makin' it suck ***. That's like a whole 'nother level o'suck, you unnerstan'." Balor walks towards Daimon, the blood-red mist swirling about his Evil Eye as though irritated itself. He crosses his arms, and looks Daimon up and down. "The ****'s wrong with you, lad? Almos' didn' recognize /you/, sure. Y'look all weak an' ****." He takes a seat on the park bench next to Daimon, chuckling. "Gotta admit I prefer y'lackin' the stupid glowin' penty an' all. That looks ****in' stupid, I hope y'know." He grins, and pokes at Daimon's chest where the mark used to be. "****in' ****! Y'lost it, didn' you! Hah! /This/ I gotta hear! How'd it happen?"

Daimon looked at Balor a bit confused. What the hell was the silly 'tween god talking about? Daimon glanced slowly at his bare chest and his eyes widen, " F****in'- What the f***in'. F***. Who the f*** f***ed this f***ing... How did I f***ing f***k. F***! "

He jumps to his feet, seemingly lost that bit of tiredness that he was lazing around about. The headache was still there, it was actually getting worse now, "****ing A!! I mean seriously ****!"

He thought for a moment trying to put it together, where the hell was his brand, the mark of the Hell. The physical mark of my Dark Soul!"

"S***! I got sloppy. I should have known better than to push my luck with all of that. I mean damn I don't ****ing regret it or anything. But ****!!!!!"

Balor just bursts out laughing, doubling over from it. "Holy ****! Y'didn' know? ****, man, y'gotta pay 'tention' t'somethin' little like, oh, almost /all/ of yer ****in' mystic power gettin' sucked outta you!" He quickly scrambles for the smartphone at his belt, whipping it out of its holster and snapping a picture of Daimon. "Oh, ****, I'm gonna get this /framed/. Your face, it's /priceless/!" He hops to his feet, grinning broadly. "I'm /sooo/ **** glad Aiden sent me out here tonight...this is better than /any/ boss battle /ever/. Daimon Hellstrom, ****in' mundane."

Daimon turned around and stared daggers into Balor, "I don't look in the mirror a lot, it shows me my true form and I don't like being reminded of it. And I've been casting so little magic I haven't been noticing. Things have been off, yeah, but I didn't realize my Dark Soul was gone. S*** this explains the way she's acting too. F*** ME UP THE *** WITH A BIG METAL D***! This is bad!"

He turned for a second and then spun around again to Balor, "You don't tell a single ****ing person! If you swear on your very existence, on all your Names, Balor, Balar, Bolar and all the rest!. Swear on your offspring, your wife and your followers! I'll tell you what happened."

He sighs, "Seriously if this got out, if the demons knew I was vulnerable right now, I'd be in a grave so ****ing quick even you wouldn't be able to claim my soul."

Balor narrows his normal eye, as the red mist swirls violently around the Evil Eye. "My offspring ain' somethin' I swear on, Hellstrom. I ain' got the right. An' they ain' somethin' you get to mention, either. Y'forget that an' me claimin' your soul ain' gonna be a joke." He takes a step towards Hellstrom, but takes a few deep breaths, calming himself. "Fine. I ain' tellin' nobody, an' I'll keep this /wonderful/ picture t'myself. I'm swearin' on everythin' I've got the right t'swear on." He pulls his earbud out, tossing it to the ground and stomping on it. "An' Aiden's cut off too, which prob'ly jus' got my saves erased, so y'better **** well be happy with that."

"Okay then," Daimon said as he calmed himself down, he realized he had asked to much of Balor, but he was rather ****ing freaked out right now so he'd hope the tween god would give him a pass on decorum for a night, "I owe you my old limited edition Yellow Pokemon Gameboy color and the games I've got for your silence too."

He sat back down and says, "I doubt you are going to get this in your current form, but I'll go with it the f*** anyways. There is a girl. Her name... well we'll call her Rogue since that's what she prefers anyways. Anyways, we took down a N'Garai brood and the portal they were coming through. Got to know the girl, liked her. She's a mutant who absorbs life force and powers by touch. So I made a spell that got around it."


"Forgiven," Balor says, immediately, at the mention of the Game Boy. At least he seems to rebound fast. Though admittedly, that /is/ kind of a major offering as far as he's concerned. He smirks, hopping up onto the bench and having a seat as well. "Girl, Rogue, killin' freaky ****, got it. An' then she was hot, an' you're Daimon Hellstrom, ****in' dumb**** scoundrel, so y'wanted t'do what came naturally. So, lemme guess. Spell backfired or worked too **** well or somethin', made y'vulnerable t'her weird-*** power, an' she ate yer Dark Soul by mistake?"

Daimon actually smirked a bit at that, "Well if you're going to put it that way..."

He then shook his head, "Not entirely. I was careful, had my fun for a while, joined up with her on her team of delusional detectives where the boss seems to think we live in a noir novel. Messed with them on all that stuff."

He sighed and said, "Hired by some druids. Went near your old stomping grounds to Stonehenge. Found out the Ley Lines are tainted. Went to get paid, found the head guy went mad with his magic. Brought Rogue with me..."

He touched at his smooth pecs, "We fell asleep together afterwards, I guess... I can't keep spells going when I'm asleep. Rogue's done this before, permanently absorbed the energy and powers of another chick before. I guess arrogance made me think it'd never happen to me." Balor blinks--his normal eye, anyway. The Evil Eye doesn't have an eyelid. "Second time somebody's mentioned Stonehenge this week. Weird **** went down there, huh?" He shakes his head a bit. "So what you're tellin' me is y'know y'can't keep spells goin' when you're sleepin', y'know this girl's sucked somebody's powers dry before, an' y'still get yerself in a situation where yer gonna end up asleep with her touchin' ya." He laughs. "Hellstrom...you're pretty ****in' stupid. Y'know that? There's arrogance, an' there's **** boneheaded dumb*** brainlessness."

He looks a /bit/ more serious, though he's still obviously more than a little amused. "So...what're y'gonna do now? 'sides tryin' to avoid ****in' me off an' dodgin' all the folks who'll be out for yer head, I mean. Y'got a way t'get it back? ****, d'ya want it back? You're kinda...purified, if y'think about it."

Daimon thought about that for a second, 'Purified.' That sounded rather nice. Could he be free of Hell. Of his Father. Maybe that's why he hadn't gotten any calls from Dad lately. He wasn't tied to Hell anymore.

He suddenly shook his head, "No, I'll need to get my Darksoul back. Anna doesn't deserve my fate. My fate is my fate alone."

He looked over at Balor and said, "You know what, I'm going to through in my old Atari computer too. You just helped me realize what I need to do. I need to look up soul transference, I need to get that out of Anna... before she does something she'll regret."

He smirked at last and said, "I've spent years learning how to contain my Dark Soul, how to make it work for me. Anna... she's had days. She's going to kill someone, she's going to hurt someone. I can't let that happen."

Balor smirks a bit. "Y'do have a self-sacrificin' side, don'tcha. I'd offer t'just eat the **** thing for ya, but that sorta thing could go bad if I ain' ready for it, an' I ain' sure I'm ready for it yet. Y'ever wanna get rid of it for good, though, maybe we can talk." He chuckles. "Far as soul transference...if /somebody/ didn' go sealin' my magic, maybe I could do somethin' for ya. But /somebody/ thought it'd be a good idea if ol' Balor couldn' go usin' all kinda ****in' awesome curses an' potions an' ****, s...huh. Usually he doesn' let me get that f..." A pause, and he looks down at the crushed earbud. "Oh. Right." He looks over at Hellstrom. "Anyway, y'need some help with that research, I don' mind helpin' y'out. Won' even charge y'for it...since yer givin' me your stuff anyway." He looks more serious, then. "I kinda know what it feels like t'have somethin' in y'that y'don' control."

Daimon smirked at Balor, "You mean those seals that are keeping you from doing what you can do? You should have come to me the first day you met me. I would so just break them down and let the God of Death run rampant."

He held up on hand and it was in a sign of holding, "But I do know the old ways, and the new ways. That's why we keep meeting Balor. You are new and old at the same time. Seriously, think about it! Video games, I can give you video games and you'll do what I want."

Daimon stood and started to draw a circle around himself, "My yellow GBC will be on your doorstep tomorrow. As will my Atari computer. You swore not to share. If I need your help, I'll call you."

Daimon finished the circle and winced a moment, "I'm still a sorcerer and I'm still and exorcist. Just because I don't have my infinite power source, don't view me as weak!"

And with that he vanished in a gout of Hellfire. Left behind again was his phone number on a card.

Balor hmphs, shaking his head. "I viewed you as weak even when you /had/ your power source, Hellstrom," he says, chuckling a bit, once Hellstrom has vanished. "But you aren't what I eat." He stands, taking the card, and sighs, putting it in his pocket as he pulls out his smartphone. "Call Aiden." A few moments, and he holds the phone to his ear. And winces, holding it back. "IcanexplainIcanexplainIcanexplain! ...kinda." Another heavy sigh. "It was really urgent, really secret ****in' god stuff. An' I can't tell you, 'cause I swore not to. Keepin' promises is good, right? That's what you're always tellin' me. So, see, if y'wipe my saves, you're teachin' me not t'keep my word. Y'want that on your conscience?" He starts to walk off. "Anyway, it's done here, so I'm puttin' the patch b...OW!" That as his eyepatch slithers out of his pocket, up onto his face, and straps itself on none-too-gently. His signs of power vanish, the blood-red mist and lines fading away as his hair shortens and returns to a natural color, and he hmphs. "Y'did that on purpose. Fine. I'm headin' home, an' my boss battle better be /right/ where I left it!"

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