Alastor was from hell, obviously. He was a powerful overlord, owning many souls and making deals. One day, he had a little mission set in mind for himself.

He was going to the mortal plane. The mortal world. To get started, he was in his room, he cracked his knuckles, and tried a small spell. It worked. Alastor stepped through the portal, having to duck down just to get through it. He found himself in a dimly lit main room, in which you were asleep on the couch. You looked quite exhausted.

The demon looked at you, inquisitely. He took a soft step near you, his head tilting in an unnatural way, making a cracking noise. The nightstand had a mushroom lamp, producing a warm, dim light.