findinganewshrubbery

[findinganewshrubbery]

NIPUNI AHHH WHY ARE YOU SO KIND

I was having an instense loving Hades and Adra moment yesterday and I sketched like 20 things in a span of 40 minutes, I have so much content to work on now, I’ll treat myself!!! today will be fun!!!

Also since it is sort of related I was asked for fic recs some days ago and here are some that come to mind:

Story about a Joker and the Thief by ForcedRedacted / I’ve been reading this one slowly and loving every moment of it!! it is super long and has everything you could ever want and even has a continuation, I am blessed

The Immortal Wound / Stillborn by Illegible / that is a super talented sweetheart and writes the most tender, satisfying and heart wrenching things I can’t stress this enough

Saudade / Yuán | ��� by did_you_reboot / this story has made me cry so..so many times, almost as many times as Hades does in it, I love pain and redemption arcs and characters in extremely bad mental health conditions apparently

Mortal Instants by emmerwrites / A lot of suffering of the beautiful kind, short bad end but so sad and loving and in character

Irresistible Force by Sky_kiss / short, poetic and with a gorgeous characterization and dialogue, very well written, may as well be canon

Consider: The cat by Darkforetold / so sweet and fun and then it just murders you. and Just another sinner that is as sinful as it sounds and the characterization is cheffkiss

I’ll throw more of these your way once I recall them!! I’ve read so many and keep finding amazing ones!! also mind the tags since the ratings are all over the place!! also please throw recs my way too I need more food!!!

[findinganewshrubbery]

Rhek’alakar

He never had been very good at letting go. But to do otherwise would kill him.

There was a spot, just beyond the wall to the south. There was a lake there, and he managed to make it there in one piece. As he stepped onto the water, it froze under his step, and he left a trail, a path of ice into the middle of the lake. Slowly, he slumped before sucking in a breath, clenching his hands and letting go.

The scream echoed back at him off the walls, uninterrupted until he had to suck in a breath. Ice had thickened into a floating island before the bridge snapped and set it adrift.

Only the familiar saw what came next.

[findinganewshrubbery]

Rhek’alakar

It was easy enough, to write out his thoughts. To pour his heart out onto the parchment. He had read a great many books, and knew a great many ways to phrase things that were both flowery and raw. Words that felt hoarse as the nib of the quill scratched them out across the sheaf on the table, that came from his rib cage and got stuck in his throat. There were bitter words, sad words, hopeful and desperate ones. Ones that felt like he was howling pointlessly into the gale winds of a northern blizzard, swallowed up by the blank spaces as if they never existed in the first place. 

Across the parchment, he vented his pain. He vented the loathing that had built up within him since the sight of the corpse, the bitterness of how quickly another had been found, and the quiet moments that tears had frozen in his fur. All of these and more, from the quiet hopes he had held (��I hope we can be friends again one day’) to the self-mocking laughter that rang through his core (’What good would shouting do?’) were laid out, covering both sides of what he wrote upon. A pinch of sand set the ink to dry before it was turned over, to avoid smudging any of the words. 

He stared at his work afterwards, chest heaving as if he had run a mile in a handspan of seconds, drained. As the parchment was lifted, he swallowed dryly and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the letter before drawing back and holding it carefully by the corner. It always took him a little bit longer to produce what he needed, considering it was the precise opposite of what came easily to him. Still, he sharpened his focus and cupped his hand under the dangling corner of the page. 

It blackened quickly, the conjured fire spreading across the parchment, consuming the words, swallowing the meanings like a vengeful Quetz’lun. It was only fitting, he thought, before a wash of frost halted the fire as it was about to consume the last of it. All that was left was the first word and the first letter. It was a message unto itself. 

He tucked it into a cheap envelope and curled his fingers around it, sending it through a small portal. It would get where it needed to go. They always did.

The winterfang took a breath, picked up his quill with his left hand and dipped it into the inkwell. He had letters to write.

[findinganewshrubbery]

Rhek’alakar

Unwrapping the bandages from his feet, the winterfang breathed out a sigh of relief. Unbroken skin was starting to sport the same stubble as the rest of him, and he gently tapped and slid his hand across one of his feet to test if there was any loss of feeling. There wasn’t. If anything, without the fur his feet were more sensitive than usual. Still, at least it didn’t hurt to walk any more, which meant he could stop hobbling slowly around the city. It -also- meant he could start running and jogging back and forth to the fishing hole. 

But why would he want to, he whispered to himself. Why not simply teleport-

Shaking his head, he stretched idly and swung in his hammock, yawning widely. A day. He would give himself a single day to work the sensitivity from his feet and then he would pick up where he had left off be it with defenses for his hut or anything else. 

For now, he had another chapter to read.

[findinganewshrubbery]

Rui’nuir

“It’s a -secret- rock.”

“Not very secret if you’ve told me about it, Nuir.” The boy squinted at his half-sister as the two of them sat on the shore, dipping their toes into the water. They were children, with the runt being both smaller and younger, and both had short hair. It was the same colour for both of them, an ultramarine blue, though they differed in that the boy was a lighter shade fur-wise.

“Alakar, it’s a -secret rock- not because people dunno about it, but ‘cause you tell it your secrets and it keeps them safe for you. It doesn’t work for other people, ‘cause its only gunna hold secrets for one.” The girl beamed, holding the rock proudly. She turned and offered it to her half-brother, and he accepted it solemnly. 

“How’s it work?”

“You just tell it your secrets! Don’t tell it too many, though, ‘cause it’s not gunna be able to remember them all for you.” She folded her hands behind her head and flopped back on the sand, staring upwards with pink eyes to watch the clouds. “You gotta say ‘em silently, too, otherwise the wind’ll hear and carry the secrets away.”

“Dummy, you can’t say something silently. You’re not -saying- it then.”

“Are too!”

“Are not!”

The rock had been worn smooth by the years and was secured to a leather strip with a casing of wire. Somewhere, in the frozen wasteland of Northrend it was being stared at. Two unblinking blue orbs studied it in the space that had been cleared between the hand that held it and the head the eyes were born by, trying to remember what emotion the memories had held. As always, a decision to continue contemplating the rock was made beneath the snow that had long since buried its holder. 

Above, the blizzard raged on.

[findinganewshrubbery]

Recordings of the Familiar

The familiar chimes, layering itself with an illusion of the Winterfang. He sits, legs stretched out, wearing his canvas, cloth and leather pants, shirt and vest in their white, blues and browns. A blue hide cape is draped about his shoulders, and without the illusion he usually garbs himself with is, instead of his fur and hair, largely bald and covered in stubble. Looking hung over, if clean, he sits silent, staring for a long moment. Several times, he opens his mouth as if to say something, before pausing and seeming to think better of it. 

A hand lifts with the focus in it, turning it over while pink eyes drop to study the purple metal. Faintly, the sounds of a waterfall are picked up from the background, before he sheaths his focus and produces a leather bound book. Carefully, his fingers trace along the worn cover before he opens it to a random page and smooths his fingers across the parchment. 

His mouth opens again, as if to say something before he closes his eyes and leans forward to press his forehead against the blank pages of the book. If he speaks, the sound is either quiet enough that it is covered by the waterfall or the familiar was too far away to pick it up. Lifting his head, he reverently closes the book and lays it aside, staring forward once more.

Rhek’alakar lifts his hands, scrubbing at his face before sighing. Shaking his head, his bandaged hand lifts and his fingers curl. 

The recording ends there.

[findinganewshrubbery]

[findinganewshrubbery]

Old Alternate Bri’we

The hut smelled sweetly of decaying aspen leaves.

She woke up slowly, warm and comfy. The furs were plush, and as she glanced around groggily she saw a low table with a female darkspear wearing her hair up and smiling softly as she met her eyes.

“Good morning, Bri-Bri. You woke up just in time! Breakfast is ready, Dear.”

Bri swallowed dryly for a moment, before looking around. A normal hut, herbs drying on one wall and a few more piles of sleeping furs. A small kitchen area. From outside, she could hear the sound of the surf, and trolls laughing in the background. Looking back to the woman, she squinted slightly and blinked a few times.

“Who…? … You are… Mother?”

The druids questions came out sounding strange, drawing a concerned look to the older redheads face.

“Oh, Bri-Bri... You had a fever, and the witch doctor said you might not…” She sniffled, hurrying over to wrap her arms around the younger darkspear, murmuring softly. “We almost lost you, Dearheart.”

Confused, Bri moved to slowly start to tuck her arms around the sniffling female.

_Bri’we!_

Her ears flicked, brows furrowing as she leaned back.

“This isn’t real, Bri’we.”

She jumped slightly, startled as she looked towards an unfamiliar troll with an ‘x’ burnt over his lips. His hood was pulled too low for her to discern anything else. What was more, -he was floating-.

“You need to rest, Bri-Bri. You’re still recovering from your fever!”

The elder darkspear female shifted to try and block the male from view, reaching to cup the sides of the druids face. Her lips parted to speak once more, only to draw back with a soundless exclamation.

It was hard to make sounds when the druid had wrapped her hands around the figments neck.

Foliage sprouted, grasses and thorny bushes pushing their way through the furs as trees manifested and burst through the roof of the hut. The male apparition glanced around as the druid pressed forward, moving to stand and snapping the neck of the lie that had manifested as someone she had never known, and in that moment she knew.

“Thank ya, Hexhamster.”

Bazu laughed, presence vanishing from her mind.

She opened her eyes to the waking world, turned, and immediately decked the naga enchantress in the face.

[findinganewshrubbery]

Recordings of the Familiar

Rhek’alakar’s image was clear, crisp and supported by a hammock as he held a book (Not the journal he often carried, but an actual honest to goodness book with words in it. It had a blue cover with a darker blue binding.) with his good hand. He was wearing canvas pants cinched at the knees, a white long sleeved shirt with poofy sleeves that were cinched at the elbow, and a leather and cloth vest on top of that in various shades of blue and brown. Bandages made the sleeve on his left side somewhat thicker than the right, and the legs of his pants from the knees down were caught on the bandages that swathed both legs from toes to mid-shins. He was bald, furless, with faded bruising around one eye and  a mug of something that steamed floating within easy reach. 

“New entry. I hate this climate, but it is easier to survive through a lack of fur here than it ever could be far and away in my home to the north. Talizara did something particularly dense and as such, my fur began to fall out. While I am no longer stricken with the plague - Prelate Jab’lok arrived in a timely fashion and cleansed both myself and the shaman - I was in the water long enough that it made my fur and hair begin to fall out. Instead of waiting for the despair of watching it shed in clumps and strands, I decided to take matters into my own hand and shave.”

His good, unbandaged hand reached out to snag the drink and take a measured sip before leaving the earthenware mug to hover in mid-air once more. 

“I did this thing in tandem with flaying my burns. Perhaps not the wisest decision I have made, however... As much as I dislike him, Antu’zul Dre’zil has been... Persistent. I have tested everything he has given me and it has not appeared to have any adverse side effects. This has led to their presumed proper application. The Anzu’zul has warned me not to consume the orange substance, and given me a list of its effects. I was able to discern some of what it is he uses to brew his healing potions and, while I am not an alchemist, I recognized enough about what he said to know that he seems to know what he is doing.”

The bandaged hand waved idly through the air before the winterfang let out a quiet, pained hiss and settled his hand back on the book. His lips twisted into a sneer.

“Antu’zul Jazsin apparently told him about my... Issue, with my mana addiction. I have lived with two races of elves who suffer from it and have worked on their own methods of mitigation. I will not become like them, I am not so unwise as to not recognize my limitations and have learned from their mistakes. I will not trust her again with sensitive information of that caliber again. He recommended a form of Pandaren meditation with the intent of teaching me how to let go of it better. I have told him the edges of why I find it difficult to let go of magic; It is not safe to do so in this clan. As such, I have set strict limits on how much I draw at any given time. I will maintain my familiar and my illusion, as these are necessary defenses. I also avoid the larger, more powerful spells as they would require me to draw more than I should. I instead have committed myself to an application of small magics for a variety of purposes to determine the best possible application for the least possible cost. I will be -fine-. I do not need others to worry about me needlessly.” 

The sneer eased into a scowl, before pink eyes closed and Rhek’alakar leaned back in the hammock. 

“... Of course, I say all of this, but the practical application is... Difficult. If I do not constantly attempt to draw greater and greater amounts, how can I push my upper limit and advance? What if there is an emergency? What if I need to be able to create a fifth portal? The first four will be maintainable, but the fifth has always given me trouble. My standard method of training is to draw as much magic as I can and maintain as many spells as I can until I am exhausted whilst fighting my familiar. This holds danger, but what else can I do to increase my capacity rapidly? I -must- get stronger. Zaka’fon is the Warlord now. Hexxer Tetaka has turned Antu’zul Bazu against me. I must be able to defend myself from two hexxers at once and entertain the notion that they may bring the Warlord against me at the same time. Sajix the Snake is still within the clan, and adept at striking from the shadows. Primal Xo’catl and Shadow Hunter Zo’Kiri are still within the clan.”

Tired eyes opened to survey whatever was above them, before the winterfang let out a slow sigh. 

“... I will ponder the matter further. Antu’zul Dre’zil -seems- well intentioned, but I cannot afford to trust any within the clan. For now, I needs must focus on healing and recovering quickly. I must do this thing faster than my foes, to better prepare for them. I will simply end this recording on a positive note and say that I inadvertently and enjoyably took some small amount of revenge on Sajix the Snake during the fight with the dwarf. A rune appeared on my person and amplified my spell, but then caused the same damage to myself and those around me before dissipating. Sajix the Snake was within the range of this, and I would gladly endure that pain if it meant hurting him again. This does not make us even by a long shot, but I enjoy recalling the memory of him saying my clan in vain.”

A slow smile curled the corners of his lips upwards before he waved his good hand. The recording ends there.

[findinganewshrubbery]

Rhek’alakar

Existence as a familiar was simple. It had only a handful of rules to follow, after all, which was nice for a construct. There weren’t many conflicts that way. The first rule was to alert Maker to anything getting within a certain distance. Of course, sometimes the familiar missed a few things but it wasn’t all -that- bad. It was able to find most of them, and certain adjustments had been made to make exceptions for certain things. For example, if an arrow was shot at him and it was able to notice it before Maker did, it didn’t need to chime to alert him. Maker would notice sooner rather than later on his own. But if it was something two feet tall or taller and a foot wide or wider, it was okay to chime then. Especially if it was moving slowly and making very little sound. 

The second rule was to keep track of the time. A subset of this rule was to chime at certain times and repeat back to Maker certain things said near it. Sometimes it lost messages, but usually it was pretty good at it. It had a number of pre-saved recordings, though any meaning behind them had been stripped away. It was just repeated sounds. 

The third rule, the most complex rule, was combat-related. It was to soak lethal damage if necessary as a last resort, act as a distraction, scout, attack, defend, anchor spells and act as a secondary teleportation point or amplification. There was a very short list of people who took priority. There was a very long list of people who did not. It knew that Maker had laboured for a very long time to smooth out any errors with its runic structures. It wasn't sentient, per say, but it had a connection to its Maker that was will and emotion based. It could follow new orders. It could, to a very limited degree, give itself orders in the case that its Maker was unconscious. Each of the rules had subsets of contingencies and modes. If it attacked something with ice, and the attack did nothing, it could cycle to the next ‘type’ and go from there.

What it could not do, was add or remove people to the lists. It could not decide what might be useful to record and what might not be, and as such had to be commanded to do so. It could not think for itself outside of the clear-cut rules that made it. It could not determine if anyone that was not its Maker was injured to the point where it must soak damage for them. It had no concept of right or wrong. Thus, it didn’t hesitate when directed down into the water and told to flit about until something tried to bite it, at which point it was to push it out of the water with a burst of force. 

Maker was pleased with it that day.

[findinganewshrubbery]

Rhek’alakar

The winterfang stared at the burning pile in the brazier in front of him, nose wrinkling. He had collected as much of his fur as he could find and dumped it in, nose wrinkling at the smell it made when layered on top of the smell of burning flesh as the flayed off strips of burned skin sizzled. It wasn’t the most pleasant smell, but he -had- smelled worse. At least this was something he could manage, something he could do on his own even if it left his feet and part of his legs painfully useless. His arm was easier to manage, at least there he was used to being hurt on a regular basis. Flaying it had been quick work.

Still, as he sat on his hammock and carefully wound swaths of bandages across his shins and feet to match those across his arm he pondered what exactly he was going to do now. He had a warning system, for all the good it might do him, and magic was something easily seen in the city with hexxers around. He needed something clever, something subtle and most of all, simple. Non-magical. A glance up at the floorboards and the dozing protodrake they supported had his mind working quickly. He could mount his bookshelves to the sturdy floorboards and weaken that one, so that if it was stepped on it would collapse and - hopefully - send intruders down into the lake, but for smaller critters... 

Not for the first time did he wish he had paid more attention to Antu’zul Bri’we’s methods with plants and keeping insects away. He would need something certainly for snakes and mice, but what about flying creatures... Perhaps a mesh? No, Rhek’alakar shook his head as he tied off the bandages and slowly - painfully - flexed one of his feet. Tracing his fingers across the cloth he left a layer of frost along the fabric and closed his eyes as the cold began to permeate and numb the flayed sections. If he wanted to have the upstairs act as Azu’s roost, he needed to leave it open. 

Which turned his mind back to magic, and with a curl of his fingers he clad himself in an illusion once more, eyes partially lidding as that soothing trickle of magic danced across his skin and built. It inherently reminded him that he wasn’t weak any more, that he commanded forces that could obliterate his foes, get him away from danger, that could...

That could...

The familiar chimed, and the winterfang jerked as he realized he was surrounded by floating, drifting books and reached out to catch what he could as the familiar flit in and stopped a handful of items from falling into the lake, letting whatever was left hit the floor of the second level. Drawing the focus and the journal back to him, he tucked both against his chest and shook his head. 

Control, he reminded himself, anything less would spell disaster. Poise, patience and stoicism. He should be as the great glaciers of the north. It was difficult to let go of the feeling of power that surged through him as if he housed the incoming tide itself, and half of the problem he knew was because he didn’t -want- to. Without it...

Memories of rocks being thrown at him, of being in the middle of the Hethiss shrine and having a rock shoved against his mouth intent to gag him as two of the snake worshipers giggled and chatted between themselves, of the very book he cradled being torn away from his hands flit through his mind. Pink eyes closed as his grip on the book tightened before he carefully opened it and tucked his forehead against a blank page. He could feel the anxiety and fear bleed out of him at the contact as he visualized each emotion and instance being preserved carefully in the pages, stored elsewhere. It couldn’t hurt him there. He was safe. As long as he had that book and its weathered pages he would be okay. 

Swallowing slowly and drawing in a ragged breath, Rhek’alakar carefully closed the book and leaned back into the hammock hung under his hut. A nap would do wonders for his mental health, provided he didn’t have another nightmare. His hut was warded and guarded, and the great bulk that shifted in the main floor of his hut was anything to go by. He would work on the defenses later, but for now...

Somewhere nearby, his familiar chimed a quiet descending third. 

[findinganewshrubbery]

Art of my bluboi in a 5e game, look at that rascal Art done by this awesome artist https://www.deviantart.com/rianith

[findinganewshrubbery]

Recordings of the Familiar

The arcane familiar chimes faintly, before an illusion of Rhek'alakar appeared. His robe was caked with mud and streaked with ash, while from the knees down it was stained with two streaks of blood that lined up with his legs. He looked tired, and was in the process of washing his face. He is silent for a moment, before he sighs.

"Where do I begin for today."

The winterfang shook his head for a moment before cupping something between his hands and splashing his face with it. The fur on his face looked sodden from his actions, though the source of the water was nowhere to be seen.

"Atal'alarion Vo'raji inadvertently spared me a great deal of pain by telling me to attempt to pilot the flame-spewing tank the gnomes had turned on us. Oh, yes, the beginning. We attacked the shadow temple district today, and fought a small army of gnomes. Some rode within planes,

(interrupted)

[findinganewshrubbery]

Recordings of the Familiar

The arcane familiar chimes, before producing the illusion of Rhek'alakar and layering the illusion over itself. The winterfang is stripped to the waist, plush fur matted with sweat that had turned to frost at the tips giving him an odd, spiked look. He leans against a pickaxe, catching his breath as he looks to where the arcane familiar usually hovers, a short distance away over his left shoulder.

"I have had a thought."

He puffs his cheeks out, shaking his head slightly as his braids shift and flop about.

"It would be possible to scare off animals with multiple flashes of coloured light or an illusion of fire, but for people this may not be enough. As such, it would probably be easier to either blind them outright or attempt a pattern of colour that soothes and distracts them. I will have to practice this, and determine which method would work better."

The illusionist hefts his pickaxe, and turns to resume mining. The recording ends there.

[findinganewshrubbery]

Recordings of the Familiar

The arcane familiar chimes faintly, before a layer of illusion settles over it in the form of Rhek'alakar. He sits with his legs stretched out in front of him, a book settled on his lap. It was the same book he always read, leather-bound and tattered at the corners cover protecting the blank pages within.

"Today and yesterday, I learned a great many things. I learned about gunpowder, which is made of charcoal, sulfur and saltpeter. I know what one of these things are, and will have to learn more about this substance as it is extremely flammable."

He holds up his hands. One was bandaged, and he used it to point at the fingerless glove on his other hand which had a hole burned through the center of it. His thick fur stuck out through the hole, undamaged.

"I was forewarned about the residue that it leaves, and thus took my glove off before igniting it. It burned quickly, brightly, and with a surprising ferocity. This substance could be particularly useful. I also was given the opportunity to study something called a 'mine', that XukuJanJin planted along the roads and marked with small bushes and fake earthroot. I will have to keep an eye out for these things, both for safety and experimental purposes. I feel confident that I will be able to produce illusions of these 'mines' to slow any pursuit."

The winterfang lowers his hands, smoothing his fingers across the blank pages in his book as his expression soured somewhat.

"A few days ago, Tetaka had her final hexxer lesson. By all accounts, she passed and is now a full hexxer, but I worry for her. The look on her face was not one of exuberance nor joy, and all those who assisted in her were wounded. Warlord Zaka'fon was disemboweled and lost his leg from mid-thigh down. Vou'doun appeared to have been beaten into unconsciousness, and Zulazlok was also particularly badly injured. Juhi, Ton'mou I believe his name is and Vou'doun once she had been revived healed them to the best of their abilities. I attempted to buy them some time to heal Warlord Zaka'fon by force feeding him some of my blood before replacing his mask. This seemed to help, but now I have a hole in my hand. Whether he learns that I did this thing or not is unimportant, as it is my silent repayment for his lack of hesitance in healing me for his blood drinker trial. I owe him nothing, now. My conscience is clear."

Rhek'alakar shakes his head, before resting fully back against whatever it was he leaned against, eyes partially lidding as he reached into his robes to remove a stone ring on a leather loop he wore as a necklace.

"This was my payment for my involvement in the blood drinker trial. I was disemboweled for this. Looking through it allows one to see magical trails, even ones that would normally be hidden from divination. It was very likely used by the bloodscalp to search for skullsplitter ambushes and magic in advance. This will undoubtedly come in handy should I need to discern magic that I come across, or magic that comes across me."

The stone ring was tucked back into the neck of his robes, and he steepled his fingers on his book, idly crossing his ankles and flexing his toes.

"I only hope that I will not need to use it to understand and remove hexes or curses that are cast by clan members, but I will do what I must to protect myself. I should not have to defend myself against clan members, but I dare not let down my guard. Not now, and not any time soon, I believe."

The illusionist reached up to scrub a hand across his face, before looking mildly concerned.

"I have also met what I believe to be a farraki who seems to be some sort of a scavenger. From them, I have collected a small amount of elementium and truesilver, two substances I did not expect to find. They will be useful when I have a chance to melt them down and work them to my will. I have never done anything with truesilver, but I will enjoy the attempt regardless, I believe. I will leave it in its current form, that of a broken dagger, in case I need to utilize it as a weapon in the meantime. For these two things, I traded one of my gold chain necklaces, and a secret from my book. The necklace was one of my practice pieces, and as such I do not value it, but the secret was of a time I fell through a snowbank into the den of a sleeping bear."

Rhek'alakar shakes his head, smoothing his hands across the blank pages of his book as a thoughtful look crosses what can be seen of his features around the cloth across his face and his pink eyes narrowed.

"I will have to keep track of this farraki, and see if they continue to surprisingly have things that I need. Very likely not in any large amounts, but that I was able to get them at all was a pleasant thing in and of itself. Oh, and I must speak with Faraji to see what can be done about the plagued heads that we have launched throughout our city, and what methods may be used to neutralize the death knight plague within them. I would like to live here after we drive the Alliance out, after all, and I have seen how such a thing can linger. For now, I will continue to rest and plan for unfortunate events to see what maybe done to prevent harm to myself."

The image flickers and vanishes as the recording ends there.

[findinganewshrubbery]

Recordings of the Familiar

The familiar chimes faintly, and layers itself with an illusion of Rhek'alakar. He currently sits braiding his hair, watching his progress as he did. "Testing for a new core has shown promising results. I have been able to transfer previous records to it, although they seem to be out of order. I do not have the faintest idea as to how to put them in order, either, so I must simply bear with it currently. I have made progress on my illusory landscape practice. I am able to maintain a larger patch now, without the visual tearing in the image that it suffered from previously. However, I cannot hold a spell of that size for very long. There must be a way to mitigate the cost while amplifying the results. It is simply a matter of finding it."

He gestures vaguely with one hand before tying off his current braid and starting on the next one.

"The silver shell is working far better than the copper one. There is less of a diminishing returns on anything cast through my familiar. I still need only find a more suitable core, as even with this new one there are issues and then I think I will be satisfied with my work. It will not be perfect, per say, but I need alternate projects to kindle my mind. Working on the same thing unceasingly is making my head begin to hurt. I will record the results when I have gained this new core."

The recording ends there.

[findinganewshrubbery]

Recordings of the Familiar

The arcane familiar chimes faintly, before an illusion of Rhek'alakar is layered over it. He looked realistic, and sounds tired, if accurately pitched to his actual voice. He seemed to be idly toying with his focus, turning it over in his hands and staring at it, silent, for several long moments.

"I have resolved to give her up. I will not risk her health should I be offered power and be told the price of such will be her life. She must seem as nothing to me, so that I may ensure her safety from this avenue of attack. The first step has been taken, and does not please me at all. I must break her trust in me so completely that I am as nothing to her, though it pains me to do so. I would do anything to ensure her safety, even cause her to hate me so utterly that she wishes nothing to do with me."

He doesn't look up, and instead traces a finger along the edge of his focus.

"I will not have her in danger because of me. Quetz'lun forgive me for this sin I must commit, but I cannot-"

He shudders, wrapping his arms about himself.

"... I cannot risk her."

The recording ends there.