[HEADING=2]Hours In The Past (But Not Many)[/HEADING]
The dark smudge left on the ground that was once Rugal grows a little darker. A speck, it's darkness like that of the void of space, appears floating in the air. While a logical mind would deduce that this was the spot that the 'laser' hit Rugal, most would be dwelling on the fact that the speck was growing. That is, if anyone was there to observe it.
It grows and grows. A hole in space. Where it leads is a mystery to all but a few. A shape appears, before flying out of the gateway, supported by great black wings. An odd complement to his wolf-like head, or the tattered harlequin attire around his neck. There is a sword through his midsection, and blood on his hand, but the Sovereign Slayer cares not of this. He lands, and takes in the multitude of scents on the wind. People, many of them.
"Graveyard stuffers."
Jack Noir spreads his wings and absconds to a place where he may collect his thoughts.
The portal pulses again, and the Peregrine Mendicant flies out, a white copy of Jack Noir, if not for the torn grey sheets draped on her carapace. She lowers her precious cargo to the ground, the prone form of the Wayward Vagabond. He could have been mistaken for sleeping if a gaping hole punched through his stomach. A firefly takes off from one of PM's pointed ears, and hovers in front of her. The firefly's tail blinks rapidly, a message in morse code.
".-- .... .- - /.. .../- .... .. .../.--. .-.. .- -.-. . ..--..???"
The Peregrine Mendicant shrugs, and picks up the Wayward Vagabond body and heading towards the city across the water in search of help.