#critical role musings

[yashley]

I could wax poetic about how this perfume would bring world peace, but I’d rather let my muse, Ashley Johnson, do it for you. 

[sbrn10]

Look, y'all, I know I am the holy fuck Marisha Ray person like, all the time. But like. Holy fuck Marisha Ray. Keyleth throughout the last like 30 minutes of the episode is just. Holy fuck.

Because we already know Keyleth has deliberately been trying not to think about Vax being back, how she doesn't WANT to hope that he might be back. She knows how to deal with not having him at all, that's just been her life for the past 30 years. But she doesn't know how to deal with hope, with the possibility of having him and losing him again.

And the fucking journey Marisha takes us through, from a happy but muted and composed "Everything's still the same, you're not back" to the resigned "I'll still be here, I guess" when it seems like her expectations were confirmed, to the guarded resentment when she asks Lieve'tel, "This is why you're here, isn't it? To take him away from us again", to quiet disbelief when he doesn't leave, and then, god, when Vex.

Vex, who almost (well technically did) died tonight. Vex, who was the one to ask Vax to stay when she looked at Keyleth and saw that Keyleth couldn't. Vex, brave Vex, who kept telling her she couldn't lose hope. Vex takes her and says, let's just pretend for one night.

And Keyleth can only nod, through tears that she doesn't let fall. Says nothing. But finally lets herself squeeze Vax's hand back once.

Genuinely what the FUCK, Marisha.

[luckthebard]

Something I was musing about this morning is how if there’s one major critique I have of C2, it’s that Matt was almost too inflexible with the rules, often seemingly against his own instincts and sometimes to the detriment of the game’s momentum. I remember almost cheering when he firmly decided to stop looking something up they were going in circles over in episode 76 or so (“and that’s how I’m ruling it in my game”) and I think for a long time I blamed it almost entirely on Matt being way too aware of fan back-seat gaming, which he has thankfully really seemed to move away from or at least care less about.

But something I hadn’t considered until it groggily occurred to me on my commute this morning is that that change for Matt’s stance on the rules in C2 might also have been influenced by their massive campaign-long deal with DnD Beyond as a digital toolset.* Hard to be promoting a tool that puts the rules at your fingers if you’re not following those rules, or so I could imagine the logic/concern around the issue. But that also made me think about which players were not necessarily shy about brutal honesty about the way the tool didn’t work for them. DND Beyond in 2018 was a far cry from the functionality it has today. And Liam, whether simply from playing a wizard and having a complicated character or just being a straightforward and set in his way guy, would frequently turn to books/spell cards rather than deal with his tablet. Which also led to the funny ongoing phenomenon of Sam announcing improvements to the tool in an ad which just happened to coincide with something that was making issues for Liam a few weeks before lol.

Anyway, this post is rambling and doesn’t have a point other than that I’m glad Matt feels more free to houserule in C3 for whatever reason (mostly cause he seems more comfortable) and reminding myself of how funny it was how thinly concealed Liam’s dislike for the virtual character sheet was for at least the first half of C2.

*important context for this for people who joined CR later is this was also waaaay before WotC bought DnD Beyond. It was a start-up that was acquired by Fandom in 2018 (around the time of the CR partnership) and would remain a 3rd party toolset until WotC paid good money for it in 2022. Just to level-set about the business relationship that happened in C2.

[your-reference-here]

[Inspired by this art from @sangoundercover]

The first, early gray light of the coming sunrise spreads lazily across patchwork clouds. The streets of Rexxentrum below are dark, but a single burning candle in a cracked window offers a spot of color and warmth. Within the guest room where it sits, it offers its light to a peaceful scene of afterglow.

Laudna rests with her head and back against the pillows of the bed—leftover supports from before—with her eyes closed. Meanwhile, Imogen lounges on her side next to her, head cupped in her left hand while her right traces thoughtless patterns across Laudna's stomach and chest, eyes admiring the new purple light emanating from beneath her skin. There is a soft smile on both of their faces as they enjoy the companionable silence.

As Imogen's fingers trace up between Laudna's breasts, following the line of her new scar, she stops. There is a slight rise in the skin from another scar that she had entirely forgotten about for the past few hours.

"Oh."

Imogen's eyes and fingertips travel along the path of the once jagged scar with a muscle memory gained from other nights like this. She remembers the rough texture, the flashes of memory it would inflict, and the pang of guilt she'd have to push away and hide. The first time it hadn't worked; Laudna saw it. Imogen had taught herself to be better about it afterward at the risk of ruining the moment again.

That pang of guilt doesn't come now. The texture has changed. It's smoother now, with only the barest hints of roughness at its edges. A wound healed, still leaving a scar, but better this time. Imogen marvels at the weight of the metaphor behind the revelation.

"Everything alright?"

Imogen looks up to meet Laudna's curious eyes staring at her. She gives her a soft smile as she continues to draw her pointer finger down the line.

"Yeah...just admirin' your scar. It's beautiful."

Laudna looks down at it. "You think so?"

"I do," Imogen replies, reaching up to brush away some stray hair obstructing Laudna's view.

Laudna considers the scar for a moment, and then smiles contently. "I think I do too."

[fjorests-of-wildemount]

You know, thinking about C3 and Bell's Hells, and i think the backbone of the story is something akin to Rogue One.

These are not the Best People for the Job, they are--due to many circumstances and the machinations of people more powerful than them--the Only People for the Job. They even have someone whose parent was instrumental to the villains' plan. They have one singular focus: stop Ludinus. Beyond that, they mostly don't have the knowledge, experience, or investment in the consequences to decide what happens next for the whole world.

They are (aside from Imogen) basically Just Some Guys who got caught up in a larger story. They have gotten distracted along the way, and also seem to think it's down to only the eight of them in that room to decide the fate of the entire universe. But they are, in the end, doing this because they were tasked with it.

Some of them are heroes, some of them aren't. But that won't matter because, once they finish the job, who knows what comes next?

[aparticularbandit]

WAIT TRAVIS WILLINGHAM INTERVIEW WHAT DO YOU MEAN CALAMITY IS COMING INTO PLAY IN VOX MACHINA WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE'RE GOING TO SEE CHARACTERS PLURAL WHY ARE YOU BRING UP LUIS ARE WE GOING TO SEE ZERXUS

[its-mekjt]

can't get to sleep because dorym is finally canon, and I've been watching it whenever i remember. yes, this did include at the student bar when I was about to sing casual by mother chappell roan at karaoke

[sky-scribbles]

There are a thousand different ways to interpret alignments, and I do not think there is any one Correct interpretation. But you know what, the characters of BG3 and Critical Role have finally helped me figure out what interpretation of Evil alignments I want to use for my games:

A lawful evil character (Astrid Becke, Lae'zel at the start of the game) says 'I justify hurting people with a larger cause or ideology that I subscribe to'

A neutral evil character (Astarion at the start of the game, pre-redemption Essek Thelyss) says 'I justify hurting people because it is necessary for my own personal gain'

A chaotic evil character (Orin, Trent Ikithon) says, 'I do not need to justify hurting people.'

[afragmentcastadrift]

Mulling on a moment from ep 118's Cool Down wherein Taliesin compares Predathos to The Nothing from The Neverending Story. From what I looked up to remind myself (because it's been a minute since I saw that movie), the Nothing was an analogy of cynicism, apathy, humans turning away from childhood wonder. A slow consuming void. An oblivion of dreams. Snuffing out the brightest lights but never being sated.

If indeed Predathos was what chased the still-nebulous beings of light that became the Prime deities and the Betrayers; if in it's all consuming hunger, it followed them to a blue planet, wanting to eat, to grow, to make more "children" and thus flourish by having more mouths, more conduits with which to absorb more light and color, was it just as aspect of nature seeking self preservation through balance (or seeking to tip the scales to benefit itself)? We think in terms of light and dark, negative space and positive. From an emotional standpoint, we war with despair and apathy, we struggle in the face of challenges and tragedies to keep at bay the suffering (the pathos if you will...) that threatens to consume us and leave us empty.

The deities of Exandria, and gods across many a mythological pantheon, represent or have dominion over aspects and qualities of the mortal condition, are ascribed certain character traits. If the mote of light that became Predathos is just, at it's core, hunger but morphed and molded into the hunger that is akin to despair and apathy, what becomes of the mortal that willingly embraces it?

It'll be another 5 days before we learn what happens to Imogen, to discover if she is now a newly forged creature, the embodiment of a hungering void. A red and blinding storm within which everyone will be lost. But there are the tethers that bind the party - those gold threads, a different kind of light, a netting of trust and love and the shared struggle. And maybe that light will be enough to capture and catch her psyche from the nothingness - her name shouted out as a klaxon of warning, an anchor to fixate on and hold fast to, to remember who she was, who she is. Who she has yet to be.

Maybe there will always be the hunger, the despair that acts only to consume. But maybe all a person needs is to see and believe in a small bit of light amid the darkness. A thread to wrap around one's finger, one's wrist, one's heart. Maybe that's enough for a person to follow and find their way home.

[lavender-temult]

Some more stray gods/cr redraw stuff because I am having so much fun with it :) here’s one of the 3 lyric changes I’m making, I’m ignoring how it breaks the syllable structure because it means I get to draw Imogen with red skin and glowy markings

[essektheylyss]

Listen. Listen. I know I have not shut up about this. And "trying to kill the gods and kickstart an apocalypse"? Definitely top of the list as far as evil actions on Ludinus's part.

HOWEVER, knowing how D&D works, and that, chances are, they will avert the apocalypse, I really cannot get over the absolute depravity of doing something so batshit insane and horrible that virtually everyone among the brightest minds of this age in Exandria is forced to give up their plans for this not-even once in a lifetime event—possibly great workings, incredible arcane progress, developments for the goodwill of mortalkind—to go try to stop this bastard elf from ending the world.

This asshole has had like five of these already, and he is so single-mindedly pursuing a corrupted concept of liberation that he has called down the wrath and duty of what is probably the most concentrated compilation of great minds across the world, just to stop him from literally destroying the planet.

At the same time, I do compare this to the onset of the Calamity, which had a similar effect, but no one at the time even knew to worry. At least now Exandria has actually learned enough to have this massive pushback from so many quarters.

But goddamn, the fact that that's even necessary? Absolute fucking evil.

[sbrn10]

I'm sorry, will I be thinking of ANYTHING else for the next three (3) business days? No.

"Even if it means the end of me... which maybe it should. Maybe it should. I'm trying to look at Delilah as a tool, to use and... discard" MARISHA RAY, WHAT THE FUCK????? THE WAY THE DELIVERY ILLUSTRATES SO CLEARLY THAT LAUDNA ACTUALLY MEANS HERSELF, SHE IS THE TOOL TO BE DISCARDED??????

(Side note: Ashley full on hiding behind Mister, in pain vs. Travis having the time of his life vs. Robbie's eyes going round in wtf??? every other sentence chef's kiss)

I will say, I personally did not take "I'll miss our cottage though" as Imogen breaking up with Laudna, moreso a reference to the fact that Laudna directly said she thinks she should die and, you know, you can't live in a cottage with horses if you're for real dead, but. BUT. Marisha full on breaking down in tears at that specific moment DID NOT HELP with having a rational response to the conversation!!!!!! MARISHA. WHY. WHY MUST YOU DO THESE THINGS TO ME.

(Side note: You know what the funniest fucking thing would be? Is if Laudna thinks they broke up and Imogen doesn't and they go through like three days confused at each other. Actually, no, it wouldn't be funny, but I am stressed and I cope by making bad jokes, let's move on.)

Dorian asking Orym, and only Orym, if Laudna can be trusted and Fearne looking at Orym, so sure that of course he'll say she is, and then the look on her face when Orym just sighs and says nothing. She's waiting, and waiting, and just. Her FACE. Oh my god.

"It's my fault." and "I just want her to want to fight it." I AM DYING HERE, LAURA. PLEASE. STOP. Jesus christ.

Laudna shuffling away to give Imogen space and Imogen moving back closer overnight -- SEE ABOVE. IT WOULD BE KIND OF FUNNY.

Anyway, yeah, other things happened but I processed like zero of it, please leave me to pace around my room and yell at the clouds because Marisha Ray specifically is so, so insane.

[ladynearthelake]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Yep, this is just where we're at now, huh?

Lieve'tel and Cerkonos, after the battle:

Lieve’tel quietly excuses herself once Vox Machina is settle at Whitestone. She has no illusions that she’ll be missed. She hands off the arcane relic to Lord De Rolo and ducks out of the chamber. She can still feel the resentment in the Tempest’s gaze as she glides away. She can’t blame Keyleth. She understands. But she can do nothing about the natural order of things. Death gives life meaning, but that is little comfort to those still grieving. Even after all this time.

As she descends the steps, she reaches her hand out, letting the small, silver bell sway with the movement. She closes her eyes and cast a locating spell. Like all in her order, Lieve’tel can usually find her way to the nearest cemetery, but she wants to be sure. She’s not sure how long she’ll be welcome here, and it would only be right to pay her respects.

Mr. Bell was a sweet man, pompous and full of himself, but kind in a natural way that reminded Lieve of her own, long passed family. She enjoyed the time they spent together. He wasn’t in Vasselheim often, but he always came to call when he if he was. He was ruled by the call to adventure, and last she saw him, he had mentioned a new prospect in Jrusar. She wished him well with a kiss to the cheek when he left.

Part of her knew she wouldn’t see him again. Even in her position, she isn’t inoculated against the pain of grief.

The dream of his final moments--and her name being the last on his lips-- ached for weeks.

But death is a part of life, and Lieve’tel knows this better than most.

She smiles at the small carving of Bertrand on the large clock tower she passes. Even through her gloves, she can feel to coldness of the stone.

She takes the long way around, her instincts drawing her to a small path that winds through the woods outside the city walls. The woods are peaceful; a stark contrast to the madness she just witnessed. She’s still battered and sore, but a quick rest will sort that out.

Snowdrops carpet the path she walks, and she smiles. She lets some of the formality of her presentation fall away. Her shoulders fall and her head falls forward. Perhaps she’s more tired than she thought. But soon enough, Lieve’tel emerges into the Greyfield. The headstones are white and clearly well tended. It’s a comfort to see that the dead are not forgotten here. She tugs on the strings of her spell, and lets them pull her towards one of the newer headstones. It’s imperceptibly whiter than the rest, but she manages to locate it.

“Hello, Mr Bell,” she says as she slowly gets to her knees. She sits heavily on her heels and begins to tug at the fingers of her gauntlets. “It pleases me that you’ve been so well attended to.”

She tosses her gloves carelessly beside her, and reaches out a hand to run over the headstone. She traces the engraved epitaph, forcing down the stab of grief when she remembers the touch of his knobby knuckles against her cheek. Her other she buries in the still loose topsoil. When she flexes her hand, she remembers the last time she ran her fingers through his gray chest hair and the way the light from the fireplace cast his euphoric smile in sharp contrast to the shadow.

A tear rolls down her porcelain cheek. She leans forward so it might fall into the soil.

She imagines him walking in the comfort of the Matron’s shadow, and that soothes the ache a bit. The thread of her existence will be long, but she will see him again when it is finally her time to rest.

She sits there for a bit, resting and healing, before she catches a familiar scent on the wind. It’s fresh and earthy, like the forest floor after a cleansing fire. New threads of life are so eager to reach for the sky now that the way is cleared. She smiles to herself, rousing from her mediation.

“Flamespeaker,” she says without turning around.

His steps are nearly silent, but she can feel the faint vibration in the ground. He stops just behind her, and when she turns to look at him over her shoulder, he’s frozen in place. It’s very fetching how wrong footed he is around her. She moves to push herself up, but falters. He’s at her side in an instant, clearly trying to find something to say. His hands are invitingly warm.

“Thank you.”

“I…I did not mean to presume,” Cerkonos says, moving away from her after he seems sure she won’t fall, “If you wanted to be alone, I can—”

Lieve’tel shakes her head. “No, I only wanted a moment to visit.” She grabs hold of his wrist before he can pull fully away and wraps her arm around his. Whatever tension she’s still holding from the fight releases at the touch of his flame. “I am still a bit unsteady, if you don’t mind.”

They stand there for a moment, looking at each other. He doesn’t seem to have any lingering hurts from the battle, but she before she can ask if he needs a bit of healing, she feels the flame of his magic wash over her. The relief of it nearly brings tears to her eyes, but Lieve’tel is very well schooled in keeping her emotions hidden. She only leans into him, leeching what she can of his fire.

He ducks his head as she smiles knowingly at him. “The battle was hard, and you had been hurt,” he mumbles.

She tilts his chin up with the tip of her finger. “Thank you, Cerkonos. I wonder if I could impose upon you for an escort back to Vasselheim? Vox Machina needs their time to rest and recover, but the battle is far from over.”

“Oh…yes. I should return as well.” Cerkonos looks back toward the castle towering over them. “Should we tell them?”

Lieve’tel thinks of the looks on the Tempest’s and Lady De Rolo’s faces when they saw the Champion again and shakes her head. “No, let them have the evening. There will be much to do tomorrow.”

He nods and gestures towards a nearby tree. They pass through the tree side by side, stepping out into the chilly air of the Dawn City. A light flurry of snow blankets the Abundant Terrace as they step out of the Birthheart.

“May I take you back to the Duskmeadow?” Cerkonos asks, blushing handsomely.

“That is quite the trek from here, Flamespeaker. I understand you have accommodations here?”

His gaze jerks back to hers.

“This could be the eve of the end of the world, Cerkonos. I would rather not be alone.”

His face flushes redder than Ruidus, but he nods quickly. Lieve’tel grips his arm a bit tighter and gives him a slight nod. He guides her through the flaps of his tent and with a gesture gets a fire burning in the fire pit at the center of the space. She asks him to help her remove her cape and armor before she pulls out the pins holding her hair in place. She’s still in her underclothes, and stops him from undressing any further. She pulls him to the bed and gently pushes him down. She lets him settle before resting her head against his shoulder. Her hand rests just over his heart. He is warm and so very alive. He lets his hand settle just above her hip as he slowly lets himself relax.

Lieve’tel wants to say something, a promise for the uncertain future, something comforting, but exhaustion overwhelms her. She blinks sleepily, noting the book at his bedside and the bookmark set a few pages from the end.

“Will you read to me?” she asks.

“O-of course,” he says. He reaches over and finds his place. She barely registers the words, but lets the vibration of his chest carry her to sleep. There’s much to do in the morning.

[melpcmene]

melpcmene. ( a muse of tragedy, and all have tragedies at the end. ) a multi-muse featuring many characters from various things. the study of love && lost. bloodshed && horror. but with the sweet things like affection && adoration in others including those who may take longer to show it. ( do not interact if you're under twenty. ) do read my rules before interacting/following. curated by emmett ( 28 )

[fjorests-of-wildemount]

Oh, nothing, just thinking about Morrigan the Fate Stitcher and "you smell of the touch of divinity" and her friction and overlap with the Matron of Ravens and how Orym has drawn the Matron's eye since Yios, at the very least.

I wonder how the Duskmaven feels when someone meddles in her interests, is all.

[aparticularbandit]

As the you you choose lives, a multitude of yous - the yous you did not choose - are lost forever.

Thank you, Brennan Lee Mulligan, for putting it so simply. That's the multiverse, baby, and in its simplest form. The you here that you choose lives, while the you that you did not choose is lost.

The multiverse is where all those other yous exist. It's simple, and it is profound

Bless.