THE TIES THAT BIND ||| THE LEGEND OF VOX MACHINA

The Sun Tree

Time had elapsed since Vox Machina had just barely evaded the lethal clutches of death. The group continued along the muddied, secluded path for a short while longer until Percy, who had seized the reins of the last horse still harnessed to the cart, pulled the beast to a halt. Ahead of them, Ragnvaldr, mounted on the horse he had freed from its leather confines, raised a clenched fist, signalling the noble to bring the cart to an immediate stop. "This is far enough," commanded the Oldegårdian in a gruff tone, his voice resonating through the decayed trees as he wheeled around and rode back to the side of the cart.

With an axe in hand, the man let the reins fall loosely from one hand, swinging a leg over the horse's sturdy frame as both booted feet hit the mulch below. "Percy, how much farther to Whitestone?" he asked, remaining beside the restless beast, softly scratching the Shire's thick neck and whispering calming words while reaching for the remnants of torn leather on its brown coat.

"A half-day's ride, more on foot, If I remember right." De Rolo murmured, gripping the Pepperbox as the others surveyed the towering tree line on either side for any further unwelcome guests. Meanwhile, Scanlan trembled, taking refuge in the carriage's scant safety, while Grog and Vax sprang out, weapons at the ready for combat.

Turning his head to lock eyes with Percy, Ragnvaldr hummed softly, his head lowering just as the leather slipped from the horse's back. The redhead casually flung the restraints into a nearby bush, out of view. "Shit... Okay, leave the cart and make for the trees. We're walking from here," he said, giving the horse a pat on the rear, sending the liberated creature trotting back down the path they had arrived by.

The command was met with reluctant groans as those who had not yet dismounted did so, with Vex releasing the last horse, sending it off in the direction its companion had taken moments before. "Hey! Rags, look, I get it. You're a rough and tumble, wilderness kind of guy. But maybe, just maybe, we shouldn't wander off into those dark, fucking terrifying woods," Scanlan retorted, his frightened face peeking from behind the wooden wall of the cart, the Bard still rattled from his recent brush with death.

"No. He's right, the mud would eventually bog us down. It's best we move before it gets dark." Vex of course agreed, rather happy to have one more comrade besides her brother with better instincts than that of a drunken, scheming Kobold.

Immediately, Scanlan cast a bold scowl at the Half-Elf, his face twisting in disbelief. "Of course, you'd agree with him..." he sighed deeply, shaking his small head, his fingers drumming impatiently on the wooden planks. With reluctance, he turned, releasing his arm from the carriage, and hopped out the back, his lute hanging over his shoulder as he moved to Grog's side, staying as close as possible to the towering giant. "One night spooning under a tree and they think alike," he muttered, drawing the Barbarian's gaze.

"They what?" Grog asked loudly, sparing a curious glance at an annoyed Scanlan who was practically clinging to his thigh. Unbeknownst to them, Ragnvaldr and Vex had overheard the gnome's whispered words. They stood side by side, their piercing eyes glaring with an eerily similar intensity, a look that could tear a weaker man's soul to shreds.

No sooner had Scanlan's words escaped than a cluster of curious eyes descended upon the idle pair, their smouldering stares still fixed on the Bard. Realizing his mutterings were not private, a nervous chuckle burst from his chest. "Huh? What? I didn't say anything!" he exclaimed, a crooked smile unfurling across his face as he casually draped an arm over Grog's thigh.

Ragnvaldr's eye twitched with frustration, as he fought the urge to grab the Gnome and kick him over the treeline into the forest beyond. "It sounded like he said you guys---" Keyleth interjected innocently, apparently oblivious to the Oldegårdian and Ranger's escalating anger.