The spell didn't wait long, before dumping a figure into it. Who then promptly collapsed into a groaning pile. What little they could see of the figure was clothed completely in white and a bit short, though a slowly writhing spade tail tip indicated they had gotten something with at least demon blood in it.<br/><br/>After a moment, the figure picked itself up with all the all the grace of a drunk cow, and carefully rubbed his head. As he blearily took in the surroundings, his hand seemed to check for various items on his person. "Pants, check. Shirt, check. Coat and cloak, check. Boots, check. Spell pouches and pack, check. Hat..."<br/><br/>After a moment of checking his head, he turned around, revealing his features. "Where the be damned hells is my be damned hat?"<br/><br/>His features were almost handsome to the point of being unnatural, only blemished by cat slit iris, two small horns on his forehead that were almost decorative, and a small pair of fangs that were clearly visible whenever his mouth was open, even slightly. As he spotted his hat, he snagged it, and realized he wasn't where he had been. He picked up and dusted off the fedora, before putting it on his head and squinting against the bright lights of the chamber. "Have mercy on a drunk, and dim those lights. And where the gods be damned hells am I? Tira is gonna kill me for not paying that tab."