#zephrah

Orym and Alma, enjoying a peaceful day in Zephrah 🌿

Happy Thursday and happy CR Campaign 3 final episode day!

Here’s Orym and Dorian returning to Zephrah to celebrate the occasion.

Campaign 3 was my first introduction to Critical Role and, after catching up on 6 months worth of episodes, I watched the rest of it unfold as it aired (or at least a day or two after). Orym has been my absolute favourite from day one – closely followed by Dorian, of course. I’m so sad that their story is coming to an end today, but also excited and only slightly worried (why is the episode SO long?!) about what’s going to happen.

Thank you Liam and Robbie for creating these wonderful characters and many thanks also to the whole Critical Role cast and crew for sharing such captivating tales for so many years. Happy 10 years of CR! I’ve only been here for the last 3 but I’m here to stay.

Just a little Dorym drabble I wrote!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/70028046

Despite his decision to continue his journeys beyond Zephrah, he still enjoyed coming home frequently. His mother was more than happy for him and Dorian to come stay for a few days. In spite of the relative safety of Zephrah, along with the sharp decrease in danger his job as a whole posed since the rites of catatheosis, his morning routine hadn’t changed even a little since getting back.

It could be argued that he was getting more intense with it. He was already dripping with sweat, and the rays of sun had yet to illuminate anything but the very tops of the mountains. But something spurred him onwards, the same something that had been nagging him for days now, despite nothing being wrong.

He should be happy. He was happy.

He let out a few ragged breaths, looking at the training dummy. He was fairly certain you weren’t meant to slash them to pieces, but it was fine, he’d fix it later. Somehow.

Even with the aches setting into his muscles he didn’t feel his morning workout was over just yet. The cold air was biting at his face in the way that was just perfectly crisp, and Orym felt at home for the first time in longer than he cared to admit. Taking in a deep breath, he took off running along the cliffs he knew well.

______

Dorian woke up to an unusually quiet house. Not that Orym or his mother were often loud, but that morning had a distinct air of something missing. He walked down the stairs to find Orym’s mother standing by the hob. The warm air wafting to him smelled excellent, the steam drifting lazily out of the window into the still early light.

“That smells delicious Alma, thank you again.” He said, smiling despite his lingering unease.

“It’s just oats.” She smiled up at him. “By the way, have you seen Orym this morning?”

The smile slipped from his face. “I haven’t. He never came back from his workout.” He looked out the window, towards where his boyfriend’s favourite spot was. “He probably just lost track of time, I’ll go find him.”

Grabbing a spoon of the truly delicious oats on his way out, Dorian slipped into the chilly morning air. For an Air Genasi, it was rare that the element managed to surprise him, but the wind over these cliffs had the most interesting texture, kind of cold and sharp and rough but it never hurt, and when you try to touch it your hand just slipped through. There was a biting chill in the air that morning, and Dorian felt that wind whip straight through his sheer shirt. Fruitlessly pulling it closer around him, he set off quickly towards where he really hoped Orym would be.

He wasn’t entirely shocked when it was empty, as quiet as the rest of these cliffs, but he did begin to panic.

______

“Orym! Orym!” He whipped around, skidding to a halt as Dorian’s voice came around the corner after him.

“There you are.” He panted, the taller man out of breath as they both stopped running. “Don’t scare me like that! You’ve been gone for ages.”

Guilt curled in Orym’s stomach, glancing up at the sun to see it really had been a while. Somehow, he hadn’t noticed the time going as he ran. “Sorry.” He mumbled, stepping closer.

Dorian frowned at him, still panting a little. “Where have you been?”

“I was running.” Orym said simply, though now he had stopped he was swaying slightly, unsteady on his feet as his body made its protests heard.

“Where? Where are you running?” Dorian took a deep breath, moving forward in concern. “Orym, what are you running from?”

"Will, looking beautiful, training on the hills of [Zephrah], with cherry blossom petals falling everywhere". Damn, Liam, you know how to make a poor artist scramble for her pencil. =D

Another finished D&D character commission!

"Adara is a bright - albeit hot-headed - fire genasi druid of the wildfire circle with her familiar Ignis, a pine marten. Her story starts only a few hundred years after the calamity in Exandria. Born outside of the air ashari of Zephrah, where she was then brought.