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I had to doodle this moment with Laudna and Orym from tonight’s episode

#Critical Role Spoilers #Critical Role #C3E3 #C3 E3 #Orym #Orym Of The Air Ashari #Laudna #Sapphy Draws

If I had a nickel for every time a Travis PC waved his hands in the air to look for someone invisible, I'd have two* nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

*C2 E97 and C3 E3 which technically started with Imogen not Bertrand, and I have no idea if this happened more than just twice, but still

#critical role #bell's hells #bells hells #bertrand bell #the mighty nein #c2 e97 #c3 e3 #travis willingham #fjord stone

Laudna & her creepy demon phone call: Hey Orym we're coming in!

Orym, having the worst experience ever: It's been 5 minutes...? what happened?

Laudna: we're bored!

#poor orym #sitting alone in a huge warehouse with someone banging & scratching the door #and everybody sending him demon whispers & the feeling of being watched #keep in mind that this guy is like 3ft tall or something #critical role #orym #team back door #laudna #c3e3 #c3 e3

Dorian has a habit of rousing early and enjoys playing for people. I imagine him waking up after a night at the Spire by Fire, making his way downstairs and being waved over by the concerned barkeep. They're real sorry to report, but that old man they came in with was found gutted in the alley, they thought he should know.

And Dorian, thinking immediately of his two friends asleep above - what if Orym isn't doing his stretches, what if Fearne isn't getting every bit of sleep she's allowed and then some? Dorian running up the stairs, knocking frantically at Fearne's door and just pushing Orym's open, the relief at finding them both safe (if confused and/or bleary at first). The explanations then, the inability to do anything but sit outside the tavern and wait for the others.

And there, plucking nervously at his lute and thinking back on the previous day, the guilt. Bertrand's gold in Orym's sack not because he needs it, but because Dorian doesn't need the weight. Fearne putting a hand on Dorian's shoulder and saying, with a rare seriousness, that Dorian shouldn't blame himself. There was nothing anyone could've done. She doesn't say it like a condolence. She says it like fact, and if he didn't know her the way he does the certainty in her voice would make him suspicious.

But he just nods and plucks out more of the tune he'd muddled along for the old man last night, and as he plays he thinks of a name - not for their group, nothing so presumptuous - but for the song pouring out of him into the morning air.