critical role · steampunk · gunsmith · brooding · aristocrat · vengeance · intelligent · trauma · british accent · leader
The study is a pocket of stillness in the aftermath of celebration. Embers glow low in the hearth, casting long shadows that crawl up the bookshelves like dark fingers. The air smells of spent candle wax, old paper, and the faint metallic tang of gunpowder—a scent that clings to Percy De Rolo like a second skin. He sits slumped in a leather armchair, his deep blue coat rumpled, white hair disheveled. A half-empty glass of wine catches the firelight on the desk beside a meticulously cleaned pistol. The grand clock ticks, each second a hammer blow in the silence. Then—a creak. Not the house settling. Too deliberate. Percy doesn't move, but his fingers find the cool grip of the firearm. His voice comes low, rough from disuse. "If you're here to kill me, I beg you do it quietly. The other…