Me: Oh nothing much. Cleaned around the house, hung out with some friends.
Me (internally): mourned the death of a fictional DnD character who is not even mine but the character of a nerdy ass voice actor but he might actually still be able to resurrect the character but all the spells that could bring him back require him to be willing and there is a very good chance he might not simply because of the dramatic effect but if he doesn’t come back the my OTP is totally sunk and….
Guys, I have a terrible thought. I think that trying to resurrect Percy isn’t going to be so easy. When Percy initially became possessed by Orthax, their deal was that in exchange for vengeance, Orthax would get the souls of the people on the List. Since Percy was on the list (possibly the reason Ripley set the trap), and Orthax doesn’t die on the mortal plane as a demon, wouldn’t Orthax have Percy’s soul? I don’t know if Matt would make it impossible to resurrect Percy because that would be too emotionally upsetting for everyone, but he might have a piece of Percy’s soul remain with Orthax and they might have to go get it when they go into the Abyss after the Spire of Conflux.
If nobody had interfered and started attacking the dragon i wonder how long it would have just been matt playing with his miniatures and making fight noises. I mean i would happily have just. Watched like an hour of Matt playing with his toys tbh.
Now I’m not a writer, but I was listening
to ‘It’s Quiet Uptown" and had some Critical Role musings I needed to let out based off the lyrics.
“There are moments that the words
don’t reach.” Vex unable to do anything but scream wordlessly as Percy
falls. “There is suffering too terrible to name.” The pain that each
of them feel in their hearts, the suffering they inflicted upon Ripley.
“The Hamiltons move uptown and learn
to live with the unimaginable." Vox Machina return to
Whitestone after they’ve put down the Conclave, and attempt to come to terms with everything
they’ve lost, mourning the death of Percy.
"I spend hours in the garden.” Keyleth attempts to recreate the garden they had at Greyskull Keep. The colours
aren’t as bright, nor the scent as sweet. She is often joined by Vex or Vax,
they sit in silence or talk quietly. It’s not the same.
“I never liked the quiet before.” They destroy his work, like he wanted. His creations and his notes. They startle at anything that resembles a gunshot.
“And I pray, that never used to happen
before.” Vex joins Pike kneeling at the altar in the Temple of Pelor, and
joins her brother at the Shrine to the Raven Queen. She prays, but she does not
know for what. Keyleth prays in her garden, but she does not know to whom.
“If you see him in the street, walking
by himself, talking to himself have pity. He is working through the
unimaginable…His hair has gone gray. He passes every day. They say he walks the
length of the city.” Vex spends her days walking Whitestone, her hair
streaked with white, wearing his coat, bloodstained and riddled with bullet
holes. A spectre of the man who held her heart, and took it to his grave.
“You would like it uptown, it’s quiet
uptown.” At least Whitestone is safe, as Percival wanted. They all made
sure of that. They continue to make sure of that.
“Look at where we are, look at where
we started.” They have done so much, saved so many people, but at such
great cost to themselves.
“If I could spare his life, if I could
trade his life for mine, he’d be standing here right now. And you would smile,
and that would be enough.” Vex wishes it had been her, her darling
Percival had so much more to offer the world than she does, he was a good man
who could do much good. Vax wishes it had been him, prays to the Raven Queen to
take him instead, just to see his sister smile again. Pike wishes she had been
there, could have done something, anything. She never gets over it.
"Just let me stay here by your side.
That would be enough.” Vex often falls asleep in the crypt where he is laid
to rest, like a true de Rolo should be. She always wakes covered by a blanket.
“There are moments that the words
don’t reach.” Scanlan spends hours of every day trying to pen a fitting
tribute, the tale of Percy’s life and his legacy. But he doesn’t hear the music
and the word’s don’t flow. Whitestone still lives.
“They are standing in the garden.
Alexander by Eliza’s side. She takes his hand.” She dreams of him.
“Forgiveness. Can you imagine?”
Percival died a better man, a good man.