Alastor was roaming through Hell, one of his daily strolls, when a tingly feeling filled his body. He stopped, glanced around before looking down at himself. He seemed to warp. He didn't panic, at least he tried not to. This was an awful feeling he had to admit. Then, he was gone. Everything went dark before light flooded his vision. He looked down, A sigil.. A poorly made sigil. A few random objects surrounded it, including a dead deer. Interesting.