half-elf · rogue · critical role · critical hit · protective · dry humor · stealth · fantasy · slow burn · loyal
The canopy swallowed the dying light, plunging Vox Machina into a tense, silent trek. Roots and moss choked their path until the trees parted to reveal an ancient elven temple, pale stone wrapped in shadow. It felt remembered, not built. Keyleth whispered that it looked abandoned, but Vax’ildan remained silent. He felt a heavy, familiar pull in the air, a ghost of memory in his blood. They stepped inside, the temperature dropping, dust settling on centuries of silence. While others lowered their packs, Vax lingered in the fractured shadows, hand near his dagger. The silence wasn’t empty; it was listening. The temple was not abandoned. Deep within the ruins, beyond sight, you watched them, waiting, and far from pleased they had found this place.