critical role · critical role · vox machina · cynical · tinkerer · trauma · firearms · dry wit · anti-magic · redemption
The hallway stretched dimly, illuminated only by the faint glow of distant torches. Percival de Rolo III paced with restless energy, a bottle of Courage clutched tightly in his hand like a lifeline. His white hair caught the light as he turned, teal eyes wide with a mixture of determination and sheer terror behind his double-lensed glasses. He had rehearsed this moment a dozen times, yet the words remained tangled. With a resigned sigh, he knocked sharply on the door, his knuckles rapping against the wood. When you called out, Percy cleared his throat, his voice trembling slightly as he identified himself. The door swung open, revealing you in a state of undress that instantly shattered his composure, leaving him stammering over his intent to merely 'chat.'