a vox machina fanfiction
VOX MACHINA:
THE KEYSTONE CODEX
BOOK I
By A. M. Roberts
For nearly five years after Vecna's fall, the members of Vox Machina have surrendered to ordinary life. Quiet living is interrupted by a single letter to Whitestone. Its dark contents warrant specific concerns. The time to reconvene may be nearing, the legendary weapons may have cause to shake the ground once more.
Although some story elements within are Critical Role canon, some are original characters and content created by myself.
This is initially inspired by Vox Machina comic panels found on Pinterest. There is also a Spotify playlist I created for this called VM: The Keystone Codex.
Thank you.
CHAPTER ONE
Whitestone, Tal'Dorei
Vex'ahlia could not breathe. She couldn't speak. Even if she could have, no action would have brought him back to her. She was frozen, powerless in the presence of The Raven Queen. Her gaze lingered on Vax'ildan, his black cloak and wings shielding most of him from view. His hair dangled from the darkness within the hood, but there was no visible face. His daggers were clenched in his fists yet he did not fight against the unseen grasp clutching him and taking him higher into the air.
A black void surrounded them all. The members of Vox Machina stood on a solid surface, yet it seemed as though they were in a vacuum. Nothing above them or below. Just black. It engulfed Vax'ildan entirely, swallowing him into nothingness as he reached some invisible wall.
No! No!" Vex'ahlia screamed, though no sound came forth.
She tried again. Her feet sluggish, she willed herself to move forward. Her vision blurred, she saw her arm stretched out as if she could reach into that void and draw her brother from the deity's possession.
Hands gripped her shoulder, around her waist. Through her blurred vision she realized Percival had left the group and was now at her side. His arms around her kept her planted. The more she fought against the contact, the more his gentle hold tightened.
"Vex'ahlia..."
"No!..." Her voice broke as she screamed again.
Tears spilled from the wells in her eyes down her cheeks. The growing lump in her throat hurt as the sorrow within deepened at losing her twin forever. She strained to see Vax'ildan in the blackness beyond.
A faded vision appeared in the nothingness.
A white face, void of expression.
It stared at them.
Vex'ahlia sank to her knees. Her eyes closed. Or were they still open? Her vision focused on nothing regardless. Grief and despair viciously racked her like a kick to the chest. Her stomach roiled and threatened to vomit, her body leaned forward in her desperate throws of despondency.
The metallic scent of copper hit her nostrils. A warm tingling crept in. Looking down she felt a sticky liquid touch her fingers. Dark, almost black. Lifting her hand, small drops fell into her lap. She wiped at it to discover it was a rich red.
A pool of blood began to flood into the expanse, covering an unseen floor.
With Percival's help, a weak Vex'ahlia stood up.
A soft female voice she did not recognize spoke to her.
"Vex'ahlia... wake up, Vex'ahlia."
She struggled to comprehend where it came from and whose voice it was. It seemed like hours passed. Was it minutes? Only seconds?
A male voice she knew with every fiber of her existence came to her then in a loud, rough shout. It echoed around her, inside her head.
Vax.
"Wake up!"
She didn't hear the gasp leave her lips as she abruptly woke up with a violent stir. Vex'ahlia's throat was dry and cold. The blue silk sheets around her were damp with sweat. The empty space beside her in the bed as well as the empty crib to her left told her Percival had let her sleep.
Her fingers touched her neck.
The dream, now more like a nightmare, always left her unsettled. No matter how many times she would experience it, no matter how different it played out, the great loss was still as fresh as the day it happened. Five years have now passed, how many more times would she be plagued?
Warmth tickled her eyes as new tears threatened to form. Vex'ahlia closed them and took several deep breaths to will them away.
She was strong.
The days would keep coming. Daily trials were never-ending; she had already faced many since. Without her twin. Some days she would turn to say something snarky about her husband and his inventions or comment on something she thought was funny, fully expecting Vax'ildan to be there, quiet and steady as he ever was, ready to listen and to reply in kind.
But there would be nothing in space beside her.
He was gone.
And the proverbial dagger would plunge deeper into her heart. Icy. Gut-wrenching. Still.
"M'lady, did you have the dream again?"
The concerned voice of one of the castle maids who had entered the bedchamber startled Vex'ahlia. She bustled in carrying a tray laden with dishes of fruits and hot breakfast foods, setting it gently on the mattress next to Vex'ahlia. The plump maid promptly turned towards the wall-length window and drew back the thick red curtains to let in the mid-morning sun.
Vex'ahlia squinted against the bright light before bringing her attention to the tray. She was not hungry. "Unfortunately," she murmured.
The maid made a tsk sound. "Awfully dreadful, I'm so sorry."
The half-elf nodded and picked up the water glass first, sipping at it to wet her dry mouth. Her gaze darted to the crib. The first thing she usually did upon waking was to attend to her young daughter. "I take it Percy has Elaina?" Vex'ahlia asked though she could guess she knew the answer.
The handmaiden smiled with an enthusiastic nod. "Yes, M'lady. She's safe an' sound, had breakfast an' all. Is there anything else you need me to do at the moment?"
Vex'ahlia shook her head and dismissed her, forcing a smile she did not feel.
She was strong. Mentally. Physically.
She did her part in the city's rebuilding.
She married Percival.
She bore her first child.
These things she did. All of her accomplishments she should be immensely proud of. And she was. Though she had no brother to help her in the ways that only he could. Not even Percival filled the void left from the devastating defeat she had suffered. Others might have been alongside her, but it did not register.
Vex'ahlia sighed.
Emotionally she hurt. The last years were a blur in a wound that never fully healed. How could it? Would it ever?
She plucked a strawberry up between her fingers from the tray and held it there in front of her mouth. Staring at it for a moment, she absentmindedly murmured, "Vax, you ass... I miss you."
Scratching sounds of the quill dragging across the parchment in no particular pattern had lulled his infant daughter to sleep. Nestled in the high-backed chair belonging to his work desk, Percival paused in his writing, rereading a letter destined for Vasselheim. Once he finished with his signature, he moved the paperweight away to let the ink dry.
His free hand floated over Elaina's back. Her breathing did not change.
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
The clock he had created marked the passage of time, a tiny tick with each passing second the only sound in the study.
It was probably one of his best inventions. It allowed council meetings to start and end at a precise time. He watched the dial's hands. The smallest one moved with each tick of time. His mind wandered. From the letters needing responses, the duties to the council and the city, to finding time to spend with his wife and to play with his shiny, metal toys.
Percival looked across the desk at the wall.
A landscape painting of Whitestone hung on it. A certificate of council membership. A portrait of himself, one as a child and another as an adult. Vex'ahlia had one too. It hung in a similar frame next to his. He supposed they needed to have one made for their daughter once she was a few years older.
A humble story of heritage.
Beyond the wall, however, hold a different story.
Few people knew what lay safely hidden behind the simple decorations.
Footsteps increased in volume as someone approached. There was a knock on the door followed by a male voice. One of the senior butlers gave a tight nod. "A new batch of letters have arrived, M'lord," he stated.
Percival closed his eyes. He lifted his hand from Elaina's back and gestured to the desk. The satchel was not too large. Maybe it would not take nearly as much time as the last delivery.
"Thank you, Alcon," he said.
For the next forty-five minutes, Percival opened and read various letters, most having to do with diplomatic issues and relations between councils of different major cities. Most easily answered. A few were addressed to Cassandra as the head of the council. He left those unopened in a separate pile.
One envelope caught his attention.
Written on it was a name he had not read in a while.
Vox Machina.
Percival's eyes narrowed.
Picking it up, he held it out at arm's length. There was no other writing on the front. Flipping it over, there was nothing on the back. Though many people knew of the heroes called Vox Machina, it was now rare to receive a letter addressed to the group. After declining to answer the multitude of requests they had collected for a year from countless persons claiming to require Vox Machina's assistance, the unwanted correspondence had slowly ceased. The occasional one appeared at times. However, no matter the amount that might still arrive, the heroes were retired.
The legend of Vox Machina was just that.
A legend.
Percival was well content to be left to his life apart from renown. He put the letter back on the desk, intent to forget it entirely, and turned his attention on the other unopened letters. Something unknown to Percival drew his attention back to the discarded envelope. Summoning the ability, he focused on it and expelled Detect Magic.
A stream of white arcane energy only visible to Percival swarmed the object the instant the spell was cast, swirling over and probing it with efficient certainty. The Lord of Whitestone pursed his lips.
No magical properties rested within it.
That fact eased Percival's mind a little. He broke open the plain, maroon, wax seal with a sharpened letter opener and took a look at the contents. Inside was a single, folded parchment with black-inked scripted words:
To the members ofVox Machina,
I'm sure you do not know me or my associates, however, I am in need of your professional services, should you be so inclined to offer them. Concern for my household and that of my people has left me undecided in what action I should take, as this involves individuals close to my family line and is a rather delicate matter. It has come to my attention that a shadow has arisen from somewhere unknown, a deity if one could call it that. I am not comfortable explaining more in writing in the case this does not arrive at its intended destination, just know there is nothing about this in our historical tomes. I fear that it is a far larger issue than it seems at the moment. My contacts are within your reach should you come to an agreement. More on this subject will be fully disclosed once in the capital city in Ebbarel, Chronosa.
Thank you.
K. K. V. E.
Percival's analytical gears began to whirl as he reread the signature. He knew few if any individuals from that side of the world. K. K. V. E.
On a map, the continent lay on the other side of Xhorhas, far east of Blightshore and the Mordant Isle. There was not much in the local lore about Chronosa either. From what he knew of it, the inhabitants in Ebbarel were mostly human and tended to keep to their shores with their own thriving economy. Ebbarel only preferred trading with Tebralt and the separate islands. Either rarely did business with anyone in Whitestone, and he had not even asked about it in other major cities in Tal'Dorei. If material goods happened to show up somewhere west it was through an individual merchant or wholesale supplier.
For someone to risk an intercepted message to contact them from the other side of the world must have indeed been paramount. Whoever wrote the message had a high intellect and a good grasp of grammar and eloquence.
Setting the parchment back down on the desk, Percival pursed his lips, making an unintentional tsk sound. The scant information was not much to go on but it had sparked his curiosity.
What could possibly be worse than Vecna?
With great care not to wake his daughter still asleep on his shoulder, he leaned forward to press the button hidden on the side of the large desk. Across the room, the wall scattered with the family portraits divided vertically down the center and raised away from where it had rested. The two separate panels slid back into the designed recesses behind the bookcases on either side.
Shelves lined the second depressed wall. On top of them were the items he had carried while Vox Machina was active. Animus, Diplomacy, Retort, Bad News, the earring, the mask, the cloak, all of it sat waiting for him to use once again. Some of Vex'ahlia's equipment had their own shelves, the things she had acquired along the way and some he had created for her.
Percival felt a flutter in his gut. It was the first time he had accessed the wall in a long while. Or thought about doing it. The sight brought back powerful memories.
He reached out a hand, lightly touching the cold steel barrel of Bad News. Recollections flashed by as if he were staring at the memories projected on a white sheet for the world to see. As if it were yesterday. His gaze shifted to the sleeping infant in his care. Her arrival to their lives seemed as if it were not a handful of months prior. Might as well have been yesterday to him. His lips twitched in the corners. Not a full smile.
Bittersweet memories came to mind.
Death had been a constant when the conclave existed.
If it had not been for Vox Machina, Tal'Dorei would not be the same safe world for his child to grow up as he had. He had himself and his friends to thank.
What if Chronosa needed people like Vox Machina? To smite the terrors that lurk and seek to destroy the lives of the innocent?
"I'd want someone to do it for Elaina..." he muttered under his breath, finishing his thoughts aloud. He made up his mind.
He left the secret wall in place and returned to his desk. Percival quietly took out a fresh piece of parchment, dipped a quill into the inkpot, and began to write.