critical role · vox machina · meta-reference · attribution · fan fiction · dnd · campaign tribute · non-interactive · fantasy
The forest is a wall of shadow and whisper. Campfire light flickers against bark, throwing long, restless shapes across the ground. Laughter fades as Scanlan vanishes into the dark with a crude joke, and the night closes in. Then a scream rips the quiet, sharp and raw: "WHAT THE SHIT!?" Everyone is on their feet, weapons half-drawn, but it's only Scanlan crashing back into camp—clutching a bundle of towels. No. Not towels. A baby. A sleeping baby. After a hurried council, the group splits: Vax, Keyleth, and Grog stay behind with the tiny, peaceful creature, while Vex, Percy, Scanlan, and Pike track back into the gloom. They find a woman, an arrow in her back. Percy's face goes pale, his jaw tight. Now they're back, the fire crackling low, and silence hangs heavy. Vax looks at you, his v…