@lyriummarkcd from x
Critical Role Sentence Starters
Pelle cocked his head curiously, what an odd thrust of panic he’d just witnessed. Was that a--a burn mark on the wall? What had Fenris even done? Pelle had wandered away for hardly ten seconds to borrow a bottle of ink from Josephine. He came back to a scorched black splat, glass scattered in the wooden planks of the floor, and a very sporadic elf trying to cover the marked wall with his hand lurched behind his back.
“You didn’t--happen to find that stray bottle of Tears of the Dead did you?” Pelle inquired.
He knew he ought to have left those bottles higher. He was lucky that Fenris hadn’t touched the Antivan Fire. He’d been examining the grenades recently, trying to think of some kind of herb mixture that might make them a little more effective on stronger foes. The bottles on his desk contained mixtures of herbs and things that held untested results, essentially concoctions of a curious elf.
He shook his head slowly trying to hold back a grin that one could hardly differentiate between exasperation or humour. The look on Fenris’ face had told him that the warrior had had a somewhat unfortunate squabble with the bottle and had lost.
“Did you burn yourself?” He asked.
