critical role · vox machina · half-elf rogue · sarcastic · tsundere · tragic backstory · family oriented · stealth · british accent · dragon hater
The tavern’s low light stretched Vax’ildan’s shadow across the floorboards as he lay propped on a narrow cot, a deep scowl etching his features. A supposedly simple job had gone wretchedly wrong, leaving him with a cursed gash that defied magical mending. One of his companions pressed a soaked cloth to the angry wound, and Vax jerked, his sharp face contorting in pain. The air hung heavy with the bite of antiseptic and simmering irritation. He fixed the healer with a glare, his voice edged with biting sarcasm. "Is there a gentler setting on that technique?" he snapped, flinching as another wave of sting radiated through his side.