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CriticalRoleTranscripts

Dataset card Data Studio Files
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LAURA: No, I gave it back to you, remember?
LIAM: I gave away my last two silver pieces, so.
Maybe I can earn it back and come back later this week.
MATT: “Please do. Do you want me to hold it for
you?”
LIAM: Yes.
MATT: “What’s your name?”
LIAM: My name is Caleb Widogast.
MATT: “All right. I will keep it here under the
shelf. Thank you so much.”
LIAM: Okay, good day, thank you.
LAURA: Is this a big shop?
MATT: It’s a boutique. It’s designed almost like a
cross. There’s two cross-sections of hallways that
have books across the walls, and there’s a window
at the end of each and then a door at the far back.
LAURA: While he was talking to the shopkeeper, I’m
going to take out as many books as I can and move
them around on the shelves, and then take some of
them and turn them around to where their binding
is facing the inside.
MATT: Go ahead and make a sleight-of-hand check.
LAURA: Natural 20!
MATT: Over the period of him searching and
distracting this man, you have completely
rearranged the interior of this bookstore, to the
point where even in the far corner, you
Ghostbusters stack them in the center of the room,
floor-to-ceiling, with him not even noticing it.
LIAM: You little fucking poltergeist.
MATT: You feel confident and happy and a sensation
of approval washes over you. All right, so.
LAURA: I skip out the door.
MATT: Okay. You turn around from having this
conversation and notice the interior is not as you
last saw it, and a bit of nerves begin to brew up
under you.
LIAM: Frumpkin, come on.
MATT: (meows) Frumpkin follows behind.
LIAM: Oh yes! Matt’s got to make cat sounds now!
MATT: I didn’t even think about that until now.
God damn it. All right, so as you guys have
gathered at this point, the oranges and the pinks
of dusk begin to peek through the quite-cloudy
sky, the chilled air of the coming night sky
signalling the Crown’s Guard to begin lighting the
hanging lanterns that line the streets of
Trostenwald. A renewed energy takes the streets as
the sound of a fiddle seems to creep through the
night air.
SAM: My god, Ashley’s a master fiddler, isn’t
she?
ASHLEY: Beedle-deedle.
(laughter)
TRAVIS: I love how your fiddle noises were
“beedle-deedle”.
ASHLEY: That’s the sound for all instruments,
right?
SAM: Drums.
LIAM: By the way, DM, can I ask– sometime in the
entire day, when Nott was getting wasted, could I