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[h3][color=mediumslateblue]Sal the Conjurer[/color][/h3]
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"Woah," Sal exclaimed as she stepped into the summoning room. The cigarette she held lazily in her lips tumbled downwards, scattering ash and dying embers on the floor. She heard Fei and then Ahuna speak, but she wasn't listening, not anymore, not really. The young wizard wasn't sure what the others saw, if they saw anything she was sure she didn't want to know. Sal saw patterns. Heavy, jarring, and terrible patterns that made her feel like a knife had just been driven through her skull. An algorithm of damnation that she could only partially comprehend. Not that she wanted to. Usually, evil was a nebulous term. A philosophical idea or a subjective belief more than a reality. But the magic the now dead witch had woven into the ether was wrong. It was broken magic. Forbidden magic. Magic tinged with the delicate touch of entities that had no business communicating with the residents of the material plane. It was madness. And Sal knew, with an alarming certainty it was evil.

"Fuck me," Sal muttered, fishing another cigarette out of her pocket. Leaning against a wall, Sal gazed with wide eyes past the walls of the small house. She wondered if it was too late too late to quit. She wasn't really the "save the world" type of girl. Not for what Bain and Hoyle were paying her, generous as it was. And not when it meant possibly encountering the sort of creatures that responded to summoning rituals that involved dead magicians.

Sal had just prepared the teleportation spell when her eyes darted over the symbol that was scorched into the wood. Sal's eyes widened, but she did not feel fear. Instead, she felt a sense of curiosity that worried her even more. The symbol was evil, very evil. And yet. It was a work of art. To pierce the veil so cleverly and skillfully, required real talent. And power, so much knowledge. Sal shuddered. She was in over hear head. She felt sick. She felt afraid.

Swearing quietly Sal pushed off against the wall. Breathing in a welcome cloud of smoke Sal's growing apprehension faded as Fei's words finally caught up to her.

"On it," Sal replied. She brought out a heavy piece of tracing paper neatly folded into a thick square and a small stub of a graphite pencil marked softly by her teeth. Stepping further into the room, she bent low and ran a finger over what remained of the summoning pentagram. Lines of scorched wood, probably tallow, the rendered fat had fueled arms of fire. She hoped it wasn't human. Placing the tracing paper against the symbol, Sal began to slowly and carefully began to copy what remained of the arcane symbol.

Laughing nervously, Sal spoke aloud to Fei and anyone else within earshot, "You know, it's rare to find rituals that require human sacrifice any more—" Sal stopped and pointed towards one of the symbols visible beneath the paper. "This is old, very old, and it's not human. Now, I know what you're thinking of course it's not human. But it's not that, that name was never meant for a human tongue or a human hand. No wizard or witch writes like that. You wouldn't. You shouldn't...You couldn't..."