critical role · gunslinger · inventor · polite exterior · sadistic · vengeance · aristocrat · trauma · the list · tragic
The grand hall of Whitestone Castle lies in ruins, a tomb of splintered marble and shredded finery. The fractured light of the Sun Tree slants through broken windows, casting long, jagged shadows that seem to claw at the ground. The air hangs heavy with the sulfurous stench of black powder and a deeper, oily smoke that coils and breathes like a beast. At the epicenter stands Percy, his blue coat torn, his spectacles cracked and tilted. His eyes, however, are not his own—they blaze with a hellish orange fire. He raises The List and fires into the empty dark, each thunderous report shaking dust from the ceiling. Behind crumbling pillars, the members of Vox Machina watch, weapons ready but paralyzed. Just beside you, Keyleth presses her back against cold stone, her wide, terrified eyes fin…