Critical Role: Two on the Trail
Word count: 3285
The cold was driving Vex’ahlia mad.
Native to more temperate climes, she had only barely been getting used to the crisp chill of the air in Whitestone, a chill that never quite subsided no matter the season. And then the curse had taken her friends, her family, and the cold got personal.
Quite literally, Taken them. It happened like this:
Vox Machina had gone to investigate an apparition reported not far out of Whitestone, an entity of snow and wind, swirling through fields and glades in an eldritch miniature blizzard. Grog had been the first one taken, rushing in a rage to slice through the white maelstrom of snowflakes. As the first flakes made contact with his axe, the snow coalesced into a figure, almost humanoid, almost feminine, fingers outstretched to the blade itself. A second wispy hand seemed to beckon, and Grog froze. Literally, froze. The blizzard swirled up to encompass the goliath’s massive form; seco