#return to terrah

[bigmammallama5]

Cover art and touch-ups complete, next is photography and minor digital clean up to post to my artstation soon!

[ofsvnlightt]

Was that [SARAH DREW]? Oh no no, that was just [KEYLETH], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [CRITICAL ROLE]. They are [54 / LOOKS 26] years old, use [SHE/HER], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

spoilers for campaign 1 below

this is going to be a looong one (like my other cr intros....possibly longer i think?) (sorry) so if you’re just looking for the washington stuff, it’s at the bottom

keyleth is a character from critical role’s first campaign

she’s played by the lovely marisha ray!

she is a half-elf, and does have slightly pointed ears despite whatever magic brought her here --

 she is a little socially awkward, and often rambles. do not underestimate her though. while she was that much more so before and even during her time with vox machina, she is much more mature now. aside from being a powerful druid, she is the leader of her people, the air ashari, one of four tribes that looks over the veils of their corresponding elemental planes. there’s the air, earth, fire, and water ashari, scattered across exandria. 

her home, zephrah, and terrah (earth ashari) are located on tal’dorei; pyrah, where the fire ashari are located is on issylra; and vesrah, the water ashari, are near the Hespet Archipelago in the ozmit sea, near marquet. 

each of the tribes are sequestered away from civilization, so keyleth had a pretty sheltered upbringing. she was raised with a deep love of nature and the elemental magics. as a young girl, she had a knack for air manipulation and beast shaping abilities. the headmaster at the time, her father, noticed this, and her childhood was quickly stripped away and replaced with spell memorization and other teachings. as she got older, the next step on this path is to embark on and complete her aramente - visiting the other tribes and completing a trial at each one, gaining the respect of the other headmasters, and returning home to become the leader of her own tribe. she is on this journey because years ago, her mother not only didn’t complete it, but never returned, presumed dead.

as keyleth went off, on her own for the first time, she arrives in stilben, meditating on what the aramente means: proving yourself a strong warrior, a valiant protector, and a wise and compassionate leader. she wonders if she can even do this or if she’s worthy of such labels, or eventually the title of voice of the tempest

here, in stillben, keyleth meets a set of twins, and later begins travelling around and taking jobs with a few other strangers. 

this will later become the group known as the shits vox machina

this group consists of 7 members: her, a druid vax’ildan, a half elven rogue vex’ahlia, a half-elven ranger percy, a human gunslinger scanlan, a gnome bard pike, a gnome cleric and grog, a goliath barbarian

SPOILERS START HERE. c1 went from 2015-17, so it’s been over 7 years since it ended, but you know, just in case ;))

events from the campaign will go here

hidden washington info!

How long has your character been in washington: newly arrived Job: unemployed/hero?  Where has your character been pulled from in their fandom: episode 51 of campaign 3 Has magic affected your character: nope! she still has all her memories and druid abilities. also as stated at the beginning of this long post, she does still have her half elven ears. she was not turned human but the magic of dc.  Anything else? keyleth is from campaign 1, but cameos (a few times actually) in campaign 3. that's where i'm taking her from. (< link to the exact moment!)

vox machina has split up and been retired for a while now, everyone going their separate ways. out of all of them, keyleth probably with the most responsibility. being the leader of her people, the air ashari, she in concerned as to why and how she got here. especially considering how she left things during the solstice.

to explain her age: because she’s a level 20 druid, she has timeless body (which she got at level 18) which causes her to age 1 year for every 10. so while campaign three takes place about 30ish years after c1 - making keyleth 54 - she looks only 26.

[proofwhisky]

PEOPLE IN GENERAL ARE EASY TO READ. To become adept at lying takes real effort ; a willingness to abandon the conviction that eats away at the soul when you begin to spin the web & an acceptance of the fact that, once you become completely accustomed, lies will come far more easily than the truth.

The truth is a powerful thing. Those who seek it & those who value it know what it looks like. Even those who are unfamiliar with its telltale aura, the energy that flows from the words that carry it, know the difference between a desperate attempt to lie & a confident statement of truth. For people like Thomas Shelby, however, it's a bit more muddied.

He prides himself on being able to move seamlessly from dark & light, to tell lies or the truth when it suits him. He knows what it is to be kind because he knows what it is to be cruel. That balance is important to him. The drawbacks, however, are not insignificant.

Even as Terrah stands before him in the snug, no audience in sight, telling him the truth in a stern tone, the paranoia still remains. Some people are so far in the dark that their lies carry the same power as the truth ; to those like Thomas Shelby, telling them apart without evidence is not only foolish, but futile. Once, there had been enough hope in him to extend her the benefit of the doubt, to send her away with a warning & nothing else.

Not anymore.

She hopes they can come to a civil agreement. That's good. Tommy nods his head a few times, finally breaking eye contact to turn & snub his cigarette out in the ash tray on the table. He takes another easy step back to pull out a chair from the table.

"Sit down," he says.

He makes his way to the wall behind the chair, knocking on the small wooden shutters. They open almost immediately, revealing the bartender & his pretty blond barmaid, rows of bottle behind the bar glittering in the lamplight.

"Bottle of whisky, please," he says.

"Scotch or Irish ?" Asks the barmaid.

"Irish," Tommy replies.

He returns to the table with the bottle in hand and two glasses, setting one in front of Terrah & one in front of his own spot at the table. He fills them both, setting the bottle between them, & finally takes a seat. Produces his cigarette case & lights one with a match. Leans back. Stares her down.

"Let me see your drawings," he says, making a beckoning motion with his hand. "I hear they're quite good."

NOT A ' PUBLIC SPACE ', HUH? seems like someone was more territorial than cordial, and she is quick to read the subtle tones of rancor between Tommy's words. "Unhappy" would be too kind of a term to describe his sentiments towards her, and the thought makes Terrah's blood run cooler than normal. The nerves are slow to come up, but they bubble beneath the faux calm composure. She may be stubborn, but she wasn't stupid. And the reality of her situation seems to settle in her stomach and churn. The only relief she could find was the bitter liquid that spun in her cup. She takes a longer sip, letting her anxiety burn away with the alcohol down her throat.

Terrah reverts to listening, carefully. Her grip tightens around the glass, subtly taking in his prior comment and sitting on it. She peels her attention away from her work when he addresses her a second time, caught in the sharp path of his gaze. Her stomach sinks deeper as he reads into her recent activities, the nerves resonating through her. Not so invisible after all; what a tragedy.

"Guess you know more than I do, as I don't see the problem," Terrah says, quieter than normal. But, her eyes still stay focused on Tommy as she attempts to quell her own internal anxiety. The false bravado keeps her standing tall, seemingly unaffected. And before she's swept up to those double doors, she swigs the rest of her liquid courage and clicks the glass to the wooden countertop. Her notebook was to her side, held tightly by her crossed arms. Those eyes are on her again, as if everyone were watching a girl walk to her funeral.

Her face is cold to the crowd around, only giving Tommy a solidary nod as they walk together. Her head spins quick, shuffling through old rumor mills she passed by on the streets, recalling talks of families that run the area. Terrah's gaze stiffens as it all slowly clicks, her breathing growing more shallow by the second.

"I am not here to cause issues, Mr. Shelby," Terrah whispers firmly. The truth sounds natural from her lips, her tone as steady as it could be beneath her bubbling apprehension. "I'm new to this area and got comfortable here. I didn't think I'd be noticed, honest. I simply got a bit distracted by the architecture and the drinks." She swallows her pained pride. "I hope we can come to a civil agreement, at least."

[waltwhitmansbeard]

my fair lady: chapter seven

read the first six here. tagging @romeoandjulietyouwish for being the inspiration and just also generally a cool person

Before his tenure as the princess's personal guard, Vax served the Ashari Nation as a spy for the sovereign. He spent weeks at a time tracking enemies of the crown, gaining access to secret locations, overhearing the most private of conversations. Much of the intelligence he personally gathered led to the official declaration of war between the Ashari and the Draconians, as he was the one who uncovered the Draconian plot to infiltrate the city of Terrah and overtake its mining operations. If there's one thing Vax knows how to do, it's hear everything without being seen.

This means that for him, spying on the young Draconian prince is child's play. For starters, Prince Tiberius is hardly reserved in his speech. It's a wonder Keyleth can't hear him speak herself from where her chambers are on the opposite side of the citadel. He's bombastic in tone and gesticulations, nearly striking whomever he's speaking to in the face with every sentence, and Vax has little trouble guessing why King Kruvanis has struggled to find a willing bride for his son. The prince spends over half an hour regaling his Syngornian escort about his incomparable arcane prowess before the elven man invents an excuse to be elsewhere.

Vax watches him interact with servants, and while he is certainly elitist toward them, very different from Keyleth's polite and appreciative interactions with the workers in the castle back in Zephrah, Vax wouldn't go so far as to call him abusive or unkind. In the basest terms, Prince Tiberius is merely annoying.

Despite his best efforts not to, Vax imagines Keyleth on this childish prince's arm, being introduced at some foreign nation's court, dancing at their wedding, bringing a half-elven, half-dragonborn child into the world, and his blood simmers hot beneath his skin. This is what he wanted, of course, what he told Keyleth she should have: an appropriate match who could be her equal in power, who could sit by her side as she ruled her nation. He has no right to be as brimming with rage as he is.

He paces behind Prince Tiberius as he wanders through the magnificent gardens of the Emerald Citadel, passing the vibrant blooms and ethereal statues interwoven with greenery without a glance as he sticks his nose in some large leather-bound tome. Once upon a time, Vax might have also missed the breathtaking beauty of this space, but after seeing the world through Keyleth's eyes, which are always looking up and out at the world around her, he can't imagine walking through these gardens and not losing himself in the awe of the Syngornians' skill. Is this what her future is to be, looking out at the world alone?

He's seen enough. He needs to be away from this princeling before he makes a mistake that echoes through the Ashari Nation. He slips away unseen to return to his princess, and the prince walks on, none the wiser.

.

"Your Majesty, may I have a word?"

Percy stands at the doorway to the large meeting room that the Ashari Nation was granted for the peace negotiations. The sovereign stands at the end of a long oak table laden with maps and tomes and scraps of parchment, a handful of his advisors gathered around. He looks up at Percy's words. "Lord Percival!" He motions for his advisors to leave, and they obediently begin to file out of the room.

Percy waits for the last to leave before closing the double doors. "Sire, I wished to discuss with you the terms of our treaty with Draconia."

The sovereign isn't looking at him, instead reading a missive in his hands. "Yes, there is much to discuss. As Master of Development, you will be instrumental in this next stage of the Ashari's future."

Percy bows slightly. "Of course, Your Majesty. But, um, I actually wished to discuss the provision of the treaty concerning the princess."

With a sigh, the sovereign tosses the letter onto the table. "I see." He turns to face Percy, who still, after all these years, starts to sweat when the sovereign's eyes are on him. "I imagine you find the arrangement...distasteful."

Percy blinks in surprise. "Do you not, my liege?"

Sovereign Korrin sighs again and sits in the ornate chair behind him. "I...negotiated hard on this point. Believe me, Percival, it gives me no pleasure to marry my only child off to the prince of a nation with which we were just at war. I offered many other boons to King Kruvanis. This was a...particular sticking point of his." He smiles wryly. "Apparently he has struggled to marry young Prince Tiberius off."

Percy stares at him in disbelief. "And Princess Keyleth is to be shackled to him for life?"

A dark look crosses the sovereign's face. "Are you accusing me of making my daughter a prisoner?"

He is, of course, but Percy is wise enough to choose his words carefully. "No one could ever doubt your love for and devotion to your daughter. You know that I have great love for the princess as well, having grown up beside her in your great house. I have the highest of hopes for her future, for the wonderful sovereign she will make some day." He pauses. "I worry for that future with it tied so closely to a stranger from another land."

The sovereign softens, steepling his fingers in front of his face. "Your concern is not unjustified. Despite our newly-won peace, I trust the Draconians little." He falls silent, and Percy can tell he is deep in thought. After a minute, he sighs once more and drops his hands. "Unfortunately, there is nothing that can be done now. Negotiations are over and the treaty has been drafted, the terms agreed upon. Keyleth will marry the young prince. A leader makes sacrifices for her people." Despite the confidence in his tone, Percy sees the ghost of doubt in his eyes. "This is part of her duty to her people. Keyleth will understand."

For the first time in all his years in the Ashari Nation, Percy feels the overwhelming urge to strangle his sovereign. He cannot believe that this man whom he has admired since he was a boy could so easily condemn his daughter to such a lonely and miserable future. Trembling with rage, he can't bring himself to speak. He bows and turns to leave, hopeless and at a loss for how to help his best friend.

[phantombs]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓, 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 '𝐎𝐇'?

The Late-night Talk. You figure it out when you realize just how vulnerable they are willing to be with you. It isn't everybody who could or would stay up talking into the night with you, not with such affection or easy familiarity. It isn't everybody who is so understanding of you. It isn't everybody who could bare their soul to you in return. That kind of intimacy... It means deep foundations. It means comfort. It means trust. Maybe it's a secret, maybe it's a story, maybe it's something you just never thought of before -- but they say something, late at night, and you realize all at once how remarkable they are, and how special it is to exist in the same time and space as them. 'Oh,' indeed.

Tagged by: @lykaiia ty! / Tagging: @imbalanceofpower @kitmitsu (riku) @thecosmicsen @yokayi (lucien) @shrapnelsong @gcldenvcrses (terrah) @devilscharity @celestiialmechanics (minjae) @temporalobjects (magdala)

[iironwreath]

Torpid [Zephir]

Zephir had never visited the Mother’s Grove in Westruun, but it still felt like coming home. Little about it resembled Terrah, physically; it was soft and mossy with a spray of blossoms while Terrah was hard and rocky and knocked you on your ass. It was the presence of the Wildmother distilling the grove that made it familiar, her breath stirring the buds and her essence mothering the soil.

He wasn’t renowned, as far as Ashari went, but the grove responded to him. Several druids glanced in his direction, noting the strips of tattoos on his arms that signalled his status as well as his patterned tunic and leathers peeking out from under his cloak. The grove was in a torpid state on the fringes of winter, the hibernating earth on the verge of waking up with a stretch and yawn.

He gave a meek wave and introduction to the Archdruid, Sylnus, then ensconced himself among some roots to pray and contemplate. There had been moments of stillness since his return, but his mind had been a blur of emotion and thought; only here did they finally lull.

In the Feywild, he’d been every bit as surrounded by nature. If he had been of his own mind, he would have been overjoyed, but instead, he’d been robbed. The puppet wearing his skin had no appreciation for what was there, only parroting the scripted lines of the Theatre. He’d only found beauty in meaningless performance and not the vibrant, untamed existence around him.

He had an irrational wonder from all the madness: had he at least been a good actor?   

New voices roused him from his meditation. He opened an eye. Another middle-aged man had entered, silvery roots criss-crossed with blonde. Sarenrae's holy symbol shone from his breast, resting atop a fraying green scarf. Zephir rose from his crouch with both eyes open. 

Dayereth’s father—Osswald?—looked hesitant, eyeing the scenery like it would reach out and bite him. Zephir caught his eye and invited him over with a quirk of his head before the other druids could swarm him. Osswald blinked, waved them aside, then approached with the same caution, his boots crunching over morning frost and armour clicking underneath the layers of cloth.

Zephir didn’t have any strong emotions about Osswald. Gentle feelings of sympathy and understanding, but nothing negative. It didn’t pain him to think his wife had found love after his disappearance so much as it hurt that she hadn’t tried to save them. She had just accepted the fallout of her decisions without putting up a fight—or, more likely, not putting up a fight had been explicitly part of the contract.

He hadn’t known Chandrelle to be the kind to accept her fate—it was what led to her forging the contract to begin with. But could have filled a lake with all that he didn’t know. 

“Welcome,” Zephir said. “What brings you here?”

“I wanted to visit all the places of worship in Westruun,” Osswald explained. 

“And how’s that going for you?”

Osswald tilted his neck and lifted his gaze to the branches latticed across the sky. “Well. I think. This is the last one on my list.”

“Saving the best for last?” Zephir teased.

Osswald ducked his head minutely, a gesture Dayereth shared. “To tell you the truth, I was worried this place would resemble the Feywild. I’m more of a city man, but the nature here is…” He groped for a word, waving a hand. “...normal. Like it should be. My fear was for nothing.”

“But not unfounded. I thought I’d be sick of the Feywild, too, but I can’t help but admire it.”

“I guess Chandrelle has an affinity for people of worship even if we prefer different landscapes.”

“I don’t know what she has an affinity for,” Zephir sighed. His wedding band was uncomfortably cool around his finger, but it would stay until they sorted themselves out. He couldn’t shake his optimism or his resolve for wanting to make it work, despite it all. 

“I don’t think I’ve had the chance to properly introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Rockcaller Zephir Lanna from Terrah, an Ashari. A long-winded way of saying I’m a druid.”

Osswald smiled and offered a mittened hand. “Osswald Whiteheart, of Sarenrae. From Emon.” 

Zephir grasped it. They shared a squeeze before Zephir retreated to his pockets. “Seems your son took after you in the religion department, and mine…uhm…” He stared at the ground. “He’s…” It wasn’t his place to out Cihro as a practised killer, but that much was clear to him after the fight with Euripides and observing the way he carried himself. 

It was the first time it had given him pause, though. 

“I’m sure you don’t want your son worshipping blindly,” Osswald said, reading him wrong.

“Oh, it’s not that, I don’t care about who he worships or doesn’t. He’s just…nothing and everything I expected.”

“They each did what they had to do to survive,” Osswald supplied. “I’m sure you don’t fault him for that.”

“No.”

“It’s good they have each other,” Osswald stressed, gaining confidence. “I know it can be difficult to see your child on a different path from the one you envisioned because they had to struggle, but they’re alive, and we can support them now. I bet they’re old enough to support us.”

“Never thought I’d have someone to commiserate with over such a specific, displaced feeling,” Zephir said. “I know it’d be easy for us to ignore each other, but I think we have more to gain by talking. And I want to, anyway."

“We have that in common, Zephir.”

“We’ll start a support group,” Zephir decided, chuckling. Osswald’s lukewarm smile split into a shining grin.

[moderndaybard]

CR Inktober, Day 17

CROSSOVER: POKEMON (Because imagining hypothetical teams is fun.)

 It was that time of year again, and it felt like the whole of the Tal’Dorei Region was abuzz with excitement as the opening rounds of Tal’Dorei Pokemon League Championship drew near.

There were quite a few challengers turning heads that year—some, like the rival ghost trainers Kvarn and Vecna, had trained solo; others, like the dragon-type specialists of the Chroma Conclave had formed loose alliances to reach this point.

But, far and away, the biggest talking point of the tournament was the band of eight trainers who’d taken up the name Vox Machina (though some people who’d encountered them early in their journey still spoke of the SHITS). Like many, they’d found the journey to this point easier in the company and with the assistance of others, but after all their adventures, challenges, obstacles, and unexpected encounters with more than one evil team, their bonds were stronger than most, more of a unified, cohesive single unit than any other group that had competed in previous years.

The talk around and about them (positive and negative) was partially due to their unusually strong inner-group loyalty, partially their extremely diverse team composition, mainly their more-than-usually dangerous/adventurous path (in and out of region) to that point , and (perhaps because of that) the fact that every one of them had a Legendary Pokemon anchoring their team, in addition to the Pokemon on their team capable of Mega-Evolution (a pre-requisite for tournament entry, at this point).

There’d been some grumbling about how fair that was, requiring League President Uriel Tal’Dorei to step in and make a formal ruling/statement: They had begun their journey at an appropriate point and time, along with everyone else, and if circumstances beyond their control had made their path here more roundabout and hazardous than most, it merely proved their skill, determination, and luck to have made it through. Yes, they had briefly and occasionally traveled to other regions, but only out of sheer necessity, and the bulk of their training had undeniably been done in the Tal’Dorei region. And finally, as a Legendary Pokemon will not condescend to fight for just any trainer, their remarkable achievement (which, he reminded people, was not entirely without precedent) stood as further testament to their ability and right to compete.

(The fact that Uriel himself has been saved from the evil organization Team Treachery by Vox Machina was well-known, and some detractors claimed he was therefore biased. Still, his points stood as sound as his ruling was both final and official.)

Officially entered in the tournament, then, Vox Machina was an undeniably odd assortment of Trainers and Pokemon:

For instance, there was their newest member, Taryon Darrington, who technically hailed from the Wildemount Region, but who’d come to train in Tal’Dorei after an argument with his family, soon falling in with the already-formed Vox Machina. He’d started out with only Rich, his Furfrou, though admittedly his Rotom, Artificer, had been with him nearly as long. No one was really sure how Tary of all people had acquired a Metagross (or even a Beldum), to say nothing of a Megastone for it so early in his journey, but Doty was undeniably devoted to its trainer. After joining Vox Machina, Taryon had added Sanctuary, his Mr. Mime, and Slayer’s Cake the Slirpuff. Finally, after an unexpected trip home to Wildemount, and even more surprising confrontation with his father, Tary had finished out his team with the legendary Keldeo, who he affectionately referred to as the Darrington Brigade, for some reason that made sense only to him.

Or consider Scanlan Shorthalt, the ladies’ man of the group: his Exploud, Bard, was already growing in fame before Kaylie, his Mawile, found him (as frightening as the little Steel/Fairy was, she was downright deadly when Mega-Evolved). He’d apparently split off on his own for a while, returning to rejoin the group with two new members on his team: Meatman the Zoruark, and Prodigal the Leipard. If Scanlan rarely spoke of how he came to train his Espeon, Ioun, he was even more reticent and uncharacteristically comber if questioned about his Jirachi, simply called Wish.

Pike, Scanlan’s long-pursued, long-suffering girlfriend had begun her journey with an odd-couple pair of partners: Trickfoot, her Gengar, and cleric, her Granbull. Her Zebstrika, Guiding Bolt, had an odd habit of circling his opponents to attack their rears, but it was her Mimikyu, Astral Form, that was considered the powerhouse of the four. Still, most attention on her was understandably split between either Monstah, her Mega-evolving Tyranitar, or the Legendary Ho-oh she called Seranrae—though underestimating her or any on her team was a serious mistake.

Pike’s childhood friend, Grog, had an interesting blend on his team: his first partner the aptly-named Machamp, Barbarian, was usually the first in any battle, supported by the exceptionally-dense Slowbro affectionately (and ironically) called Intelligence. Waddling about and finding, storing, then producing the oddest assortment of items was Holding, the Delibird. It was half-joking quipped that no one could tell if it was grog training Craven Kas, the Aegislash, or the other way around, but the synergy he had with his Gallade, Fighter, was blatantly obvious even before Mega-Evolution. And anchoring it all was Titanstone, the Legendary Regirock.

Vax’ildan and Grog may have often teased each other, but Vax’s seemingly-average team was no joke in battle: Assassin, his Houndoom, was both his first partner and the one capable of Mega-Evolving, but Vax poured just as much care and love into training his whole team, even his trusty, if often-overlooked Arbok, Simon. Boots, the hasty Luxray was a speed demon, to be sure, and his Croviknight, Paladin was a much-needed defensive boost for the whole team. His Florges, Snowdrop, seemed almost out-of-place on his team, but some story behind her presence never failed to earn a small, sad smile from her trainer, though he never spoke of it. And watching over them all was the ghostly Legendary, Lunala, who Vax called the Raven Queen in the most reverent of voices.

Often seen hand-in-hand with Vax was Keyleth, who hailed from one of the Ashari Tribes of elemental-focused trainers.  Zephrah, her first partner, was an Altaria capable of Mega-Evolution, and had been, along with her Sawsbuck, Circlet (a gift from her mother), with her along every step of her journey to learn of the other elements though new Pokemon on her team: Terrah the Golurk, Pyrah the Pyroar, and Vesrah, the Gyrados. After a return to her starting point, Keyleth was surprise to encounter, much less near the loyalty of the Legendary Tapu Bulu who she came to call Mantle after responsibilities she’d been given in her home village.

Vex’ahlia, twin sister to Vax’ildan, began her journey far more comfortable in the woods and on the routes than in the villages and towns, and there had bonded deeply with her firs two partners: Ranger, her Decidueye, and Trinket the Ursaring. She was just as fond of her later additions: Haggle, the Persian, and Rogue, the (Mega-Evolving) Absol. And if her partnering with the Honchkrow, Witchbroom, was under somewhat-dubious circumstances, one could still not deny the trainer’s care. Perhaps even stranger was her coming to have on her team the Legendary Solgaleo, called Pelor by the girl, but it seemed undeniably fitting that the twins have counterpoint legendaries anchoring their respective teams.

Never too far from Vex was Percival—hardly the first (and certainly not the last, if rumors around his sister Cassandra were anything close to true) of the well-known, if somewhat strange de Rolo family to enter the tournament. Of course, he had the signature Pokemon of his family: Glaceon, his named Whitestone. There were some that questioned the inclusion of his second Pokemon, but the general consensus was that there must be some sort of sentimental attachment to an early—perhaps first—capture that led him to keep on his final team Spectacles, the Watchog. Gunslinger, his Mega-Evolving Blastoise was a powerful force, but not nearly as feared as Contract, his Spiritomb. There was something almost laughable about the Klingklnag, Clocks, but all laughter died in the face of the Legendary Yveltal, his dark Orthax.

It was generally considered that the one advantage any opponent of theirs would have would be that each of the eight would have to fight their way through the tournament alone, rather than the group that they’d grown accustomed to working as along their journey. Even then, many didn’t fell that nay challenger outside of Vox Machina had any shade of a chance at victory. Except…

…Except, perhaps, for the mysterious, last-minute entry…

The only name he gave was ‘Matt,’ and though no one knew where he’d come from or where he’d trained, his team was as stacked as any of theirs: His (Mega) Gardevoir, Allura, led the powerful line-up, backed by Kima, the Hitmonchan, and the Alakazam, Gilmore. His Voltorb, Victor, promised to be a Wildcard, and was, in its own way, just as terrifying as the final two members: Briarwoods, the Malamar, and his own Legendary, the Zygarde he called Raishan.

No, there was absolutely no predicting how this year’s tournament would go, but one:

 It would be a story told through the years to come.

[bigmammallama5]

16. Starlight

[returnofismasm]

I love anime-style openings a whole lot, but as far efficient use of animation time goes, I think the credits of the opening episode of Legend of Vox Machina should be played over establishing character shots of VM:

We could start by panning over an aerial shot of Emon that sweeps over the city and then out to sea. We zoom in on a ship approaching the harbor. As we slide by the stern we see the ship is called the Broken Howl. As the camera pulls away we see Pike, looking ahead toward Emon: she’s almost home. 

Another sweep over the city, and we end on our first look at Greyskull Keep, as of yet unsat on by dragons. We cut to the interior of the keep, to a workshop in the basement. We see Percy from the back, hunched over and working on a project. The blocking prevents us from seeing it. As the camera pans around to face him, he sits up, complete with whatever he was working on, and he looks pleased.

We fade from Percy’s expression to Scanlan’s. He looks decidedly less happy. As the camera pulls out we see he’s facing down three rough-looking sailors who aren’t buying whatever he’s trying to spin. Background art establishes that we’re now on the docks. Scanlan bails from the conversation and bolts around the corner, and we lose sight of him. The sailors chase him, but when they turn the corner they bump into a looming Grog. Grog cracks his knuckles, pleased at the idea of a brawl, and smashes two of the sailors’ heads together. As they fall out of frame, unconscious, we see Pike, fresh off the Broken Howl. There’s a pause as Pike, Scanlan, and Grog all stare at each other, and the third sailor takes this opportunity to get the drop on them when Pike backhands him out of frame. The three rush toward each other, Grog sweeping Pike up in a hug, Scanlan bowing extravagantly and pretending to doff a cap he’s not wearing. As the three leave, Scanlan flicks coin at the three groaning sailors, shrugging. 

We cut from Scanlan’s coin to Vex’s as she stands inside a shop, haggling with a shopkeeper over what looks like healing potions. Trinket is behind her, plopped on his butt. The shopkeeper’s eyes dart from Vex to her bear, a little nervously—which means he isn’t paying attention to Vax, darting in and out of frame behind him messing with something. The transaction is complete with a wink and Vex scoops up her potions. As they leave, Vex throws her arms around Trinket’s neck like he’s an enormous shaggy Labrador, and Vax appears at her side. The sudden Vax causes the shopkeeper to start, and Vax’s prank goes off as the camera cuts to the exterior of the shop. 

During the previous two scenes, there’s a small, unobtrusive bird. It flutters away from Scanlan as he runs around the corner, leaving the frame. Again we see the bird as the twins leave the shop, but this time the camera tracks it back to the exterior of Greyskull keep, into a practice yard. This bird is Keyleth, just returned from her Aramente to Terrah—where we know she took a big confidence hit—and nervous about meeting up with the others again, and having to deal with questions about how her trip went. Percy enters the yard and we finally see what he was working on—a pretty badass looking rifle. As Critters we’d likely recognize this as Bad News (which Percy was working on during this time skip) but for everyone else it’s just a cool gun that establishes Percy’s somewhat steampunk aesthetic. Percy levels Bad News at a target and pulls the trigger----aaand it misfires and the recoil knocks Percy ass-over-teakettle into the dirt. Bad News still needs some work. Keyleth drops bird form and rushes over to see if he’s okay, which is when the others arrive and the episode proper actually starts.

I hope this conveyed that my image of this is without dialogue, with the opening theme played over it. I want to say the first in-universe sound effect is Bad News misfiring, which could potentially even interrupt the opening theme. This isn’t necessarily perfect, as it would be hard to portray Keyleth’s anxiety when she’s a bird, though we do have the rest of the episodes to establish that. It does also set up a Bad News Chekhov’s Gun (somewhat literally) since if it breaks in the opening two minutes then non-Critters especially are going to expect Percy to bail someone out of a jam with a fully-working Bad News, though if you’ll recall Percy’s first successful use of the gun in combat was in the first episode of the stream. This can be somewhat mitigated by Percy lamenting that the plot is going to prevent him from figuring out what the issue is, and his closing moments of the special could be him going back to work. And of course, depending one when the Briarwood arc starts, that Chekhov’s Gun does, eventually, go off—Bad News is what Percy uses to save Vax during the fight at the Feast.  

[miketownsends]

Absolutely you can!

We began two years after VM’s defeat of Vecna. Fire giants are marching on Emon for as-of-yet unknown reasons, there’s monsters in the countryside, and the six of us (five for our first session) found ourselves coming together in search of an entrance to the Waydown - a passage to an underground river used by drow and duregar for smuggling and other illicit trade.

Our first session saw us venturing into the Waydown for a variety of reasons: my earth Ashari druid was looking for links between the duregar and the fire giants, our bloodhunter was fulfilling a contract for the Slayer’s Take, our cleric was searching for a friend’s son, etc. The way into the Waydown was through a small underground tavern run by a tiefling named Waken, who was keeping a number of... indentured servants... as staff, including a young drow woman named Ellie, who wanted us to keep an eye out for her mandolin while we were adventuring. We spent an unreasonably long time on a puzzle involving, among other things, a jar of spiders (VERY SPIDERS) we just wouldn’t leave alone. We eventually made our way into New O’Noa (which was, I believe, a duregar stronghold of some sort - I don’t have my notes rn so I’m a little fuzzy on some details), stole some diamonds (we replaced them with spiders!), got some information, fought and killed (and greased) a pair of cambion siblings in a room that was definitely WAY too small for a fight, and just barely escaped being discovered by a fire giant. Also we made uncomfortable eye contact with Grazzt from across the planes at one point. We got out and found Ellie waiting for us, so we returned the mandolin we’d found to her, which APPARENTLY SHE’S A GODDESS OF SOME SORT AND SHE JUST KIND OF DISAPPEARED WHOOPS, and then headed back to the surface via Waken’s tavern. First session end with an uncomfortable standoff because we accidentally-on-purpose freed his best barmaid.

Second session kicked off with Waken’s bodyguard, a large goliath woman named Avalanche (with a thing for our goblin bard), staging a low-key coup and allowing any of the staff being held against their will (which was... pretty much all of them) to leave. It also saw the arrival of our gunslinger, who had missed the first session and found we’d pretty much done her job (aiding Ellie) for her. On the suggestion of a couple members of the Council of Tal’Dorei, we wound up eventually making our way to Terrah via skyship to speak with Pa’tice regarding the whereabouts of an old storm giant. We were also visited by Ellie (sort of) and got some vague warnings of hard times ahead and some cryptic information about her father. Pa’tice yeeted us through a tree to the Circle of Distance, where we took an embarrassingly long time to figure out a simple puzzle (again). We met some monsters (“two monsters, chillin’ in a hold, five rooms apart ‘cause they’re not gay!”), talked a spectator out of existence, missed out on a drug chamber, and found the storm giant AKA STORM MOM WHOM WE LOVE AND ADORE. Storm Mom™ flew us off to face down one of the fire giants and some of his minions, and after a triumphant defeat, we headed back to nearby Terrah. The newly-christened Riders on the Storm (after a close call with the name Team Insertion after their slutty, slutty day) decided to take a well-earned rest for the night at my druid’s house with her good good orc moms... only to have a collective, terrible dream about a Blood War and demons that have taken an apparent interest in us. Whoops.

OUR GROUP IS A LOT AND I LOVE IT ❤️ Even if we are, as @edgeofoctarine put it, a “terrible meme disaster machine.” Our DM is planning on putting together a Wikia for our group so we can keep track of things (we only play like once a month for 8-9 hours at a time so I am missing a LOT here) and I’m very excited about that~

it’s only been a couple days but i’m already SO EXCITED for our Tal’Dorei group to meet again bc it’s VERY GOOD

we have so much fun together and play off each other very well and it’s so much fun to play in a world i feel like i know so well and our DM is excellent

like just an A+ group all around

[bigmammallama5]

23. Comm link

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4. Moss

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6. Frills and Gills

[bigmammallama5]

21. Hall Of The Dead

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10. Carnivorous

[bigmammallama5]

17. Taking and Testing Samples