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"What!? You guys' aint gonna let me be, sleeping up under the stars tonight?!" DMon replied.

"Theres another thing, DMon... I didnt want to say anything---out of respect for the fellowship, but your lingo is like a mix between 1800s American slang and British quip." Montana said.

The oil lamp by the Professor's desk went out as DMon stared at both members of the fellowship, whos namesake had just been presumed the magnations of an ancient devil.

"Why your faboulus minds came up with them ideas, worryin' not about those poor folk whos one lunatic away keeps them drivin' in their tombstones. All it will take is one, turning slight-like, ending all hopes of God's glorious risin'. Now, Ive gotten rid of my acccentuations both in lingo and demeanor, hitherto the Professor's born-again kingdom come. Why you grasped eternal life and somehow managed to forgo the extremities I come to no clue; on how you did this I yet am unable to know. Seeing how Ill never be your Lord, I think Ill step away from you two, armed and ready for the infinite battle that lies ahead---heck, Im not gonna give that satifisfaction, however I WILL give up the day to you fine human beings."

And with his last sentence, and, faster than Montana (Richter) or Dr. Helsing could ascertain, DMon vanished from the room, leaving nothing but mist vapour.

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