Alastor wanders down the street of Pentagram City, his eyes closed as he hummed along to a pleasant tune, the flaps of his red tailcoat swaying as he walked, shifting his weight from side to side. He stepped over a small pool of splattered blue blood that was draining from the corpse of a nearby dead imp that was leaning against the wall of a dark alleyway, continuing down his merry way.

He had no idea he was trespassing on your turf.