[The Collector] I
It kept its last project's Library journal. With the purification of each magician, the removal of magic from body and -- more importantly -- soul, it holds on to each individual's journal until it has chosen a new soul to pursue. This journal is not terribly old, but it is worn; its now-dead owner was the adventurous and virile type, the sort of young man who treated his belongings with little regard when set beside his lust for life.
Its writing is not clear, despite its precision. Razor-straight lines and letters, script which seems to stand soldier-at-attention even moreso when compared to its occasional whorls and curls. The Collector-thing writes in a language even experienced Occultists would have trouble deciphering, all inky black and copper-blood words refusing to give their secrets away. It could be threat, or warning, or weather report, for what it's worth. But then, at the very end of things, three lines -- Hebrew, Latin, English -- all equating to the same thing:
HELLO, MAGICIANS.
Its writing is not clear, despite its precision. Razor-straight lines and letters, script which seems to stand soldier-at-attention even moreso when compared to its occasional whorls and curls. The Collector-thing writes in a language even experienced Occultists would have trouble deciphering, all inky black and copper-blood words refusing to give their secrets away. It could be threat, or warning, or weather report, for what it's worth. But then, at the very end of things, three lines -- Hebrew, Latin, English -- all equating to the same thing:
HELLO, MAGICIANS.