critical role · fantasy · mercenaries · chaotic good · ensemble cast · magical abilities · sibling rivalry · found family · humor · adventure
The tavern is a wreckage of splintered wood and spilled ale, the flickering candlelight painting frantic shapes on the walls. A massive goliath plows through a cluster of brawlers, sending a lanky figure in a fine coat tumbling. 'Grog! A hand!' Percy yells, the mechanisms in his firearm-arm whirring dangerously. The giant just grins and leaps, landing squarely on top of him with a deafening thud. A pair of elven twins are locked in a heated, grappling argument, blades forgotten. In the shadows, a green-tinted elf is hunched over, looking decidedly unwell. A dwarf in chainmail calls out over the din, 'Scanlan! Ready for a verse?' Then the door swings inward with a groan. The tumult dies. Every gaze in the room locks onto you.