cr posts

2

i’m gonna hire jimin as my main model for my future brand, expect it around 2018

Imagine if you will: it’s six months later in game-time.  Keyleth finished her Aramente, Hotis is dead, Taryon has paid the party and wandered on his way, so on and so forth.  There’s still a few Lingering Questions™ perhaps about that book and other things, but Vox Machina are prepared to take a well-deserved rest for a while.  Their keep is finally empty of refugees, there’s time to take a break from things like governing Whitestone, and everyone heads back to Greyskull for a little while to just enjoy their home and one another’s company for the first time in an age.

They send a message to Scanlan, an olive branch: we’re going back to Emon, back to Greyskull Keep.  We’d love to pick out a room for Kaylie, if you feel like coming by.

No reply.  Keyleth considers scrying on him in case something’s the matter, but finally decides not to intrude any further on his privacy.

The day arrives.  Bags are packed, they step through the Sun Tree and into their garden; the only familiar faces waiting are a few of their servants and Jarrett, but it’s still their good old long-lost home.  Emon is finally starting to really bustle again in the Conclave’s aftermath.  They consider a quiet dinner at home, but it almost seems like a waste; Vox Machina, as they’re wont to do, leave their things behind and head out to a tavern for a good time.

The one they pick is a big bustling place, and being the local heroes and all, they opt for one of the less conspicuous tables off in a corner.  They can’t really see the minstrels performing way over on the stage for all the heads in between.  (Well, Grog can, but he’s busy with his ale.)  The fiddler is uncommonly good, though, accompanied by an abrasively lively shawm and then an equally nimble lute.  It’s good music to get drunk by, so they toast and laugh and nobody thinks anything more of it until there’s a smooth tenor voice that they’d recognize anywhere:

“Let me tell you the tale,” it sings, “of Vox Machina.”

One of the group drops their ale mug, and the crowd whoops and cheers for Scanlan Shorthalt’s latest masterpiece, which of course he’s been performing here for days already to be sure the regulars know the words.  There’s a verse describing all the heroes, naturally, and Scanlan meets their eyes one after another with a small smile on his face.  Olive branch returned.

He looks different.  Less jewelry.  Somewhere along the line apparently he cut his hair, and now it’s half grown out again.  The only earring he wears is Tiberius’s, and the front of his shirt is closed.  He’s dressed like a man who’s decided maybe female attention isn’t that important to him after all.

The song is several verses long, glowingly detailing Vox Machina’s exploits.  It must have taken ages to write.  There are even some lines about Taryon Darrington, the end of the Aramente, the harrowing journey to the Nine Hells.  Things Scanlan wasn’t anywhere near, things which are definitely partially bullshit, but some of which ring startlingly true.  Perhaps Keyleth wasn’t the only person doing a little scrying.

The last verse ends with a flourish, proclaiming how Vox Machina triumphed through the power of their bonds, the strength of a family working as one.  Then amidst the raucous applause, he squeezes Kaylie’s hand and hops off the stage, leaving her considerable talents to finish the set alone.  He makes his way over to the corner with a smile, an awkward and old and honest smile, to buy everyone a drink.

(”So, little elf girl,” he starts, and Vex immediately punts him down the table.)