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CriticalRoleTranscripts

Dataset card Data Studio Files
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have spent an hour using Arcane Recovery to gain
back that one spell slot I used this morning?
MATT: Sure, yeah. I’ll allow that. All right.
Folks begin to prod their heads out into the open
air, curious about the source of this unusual din,
and you find your vision capturing a small
procession of flamboyantly dressed people parading
through the central road. A lanky man of some
obvious elven descent leads the pack, his long,
ashy-brown hair curling ever-so-slightly past his
mid-back, his long coat and tails knocking around
by his skipping step. Two halfling women in purple
and green bodysuits dance from side to side,
handing flowers to children and flyers to adults,
as a bald man in a neck-frilled frock coat of
bright red, his face adorned in vibrant orange
makeup to look like the setting sun behind him,
plays the violin that you heard earlier in an
upbeat, jovial manner. A tall half-orc masculine
man with a well-groomed handlebar mustache that
curves out to the side, billowing white silk shirt
and black trousers, follows behind with a big drum
slung over his shoulder, going (drumming) along with the
fiddle. The tiefling man of lavender skin that you
saw earlier walks along with a grin, juggling two
curved scimitars as he walks in place, almost
loses one and catches it, continues to go.
Families are beginning to gather out to see this
display. The two dancers part, and then a woman of
short, fiery red hair and dark skin walking
between them, lifting a small candle before–
fwoosh! A giant burst, a gout of flame emerges
from the front of her mouth, brightens the
vicinity, and everyone collectively gasps and
begins cheering and clapping as they continue the
walk. There, to the back of it, you see the rather
burly-looking pale woman, arms crossed, just
following behind and keeping an eye like a
security guard to ensure that no business gets out
of hand. The gasps and the cheers begin to follow,
and as the procession continues down its way, the
families and civilians begin to gather and follow
behind. As the last bit of the sun sets behind the
mountain range, the torches glowing, the
procession curves through the center of the Loch
Ward to the edge of the Ustaloch itself. Through
the fishing village, more folks begin to gather.
Do you all follow?
ALL: Yeah.
LAURA: And I cast Blessing of the Trickster on you
again, just in case.
SAM: Thank you.
MATT: People following the parade, you see faces,
eager for this fresh form of entertainment.
Children laugh and chatter excitedly, while the
Crown’s Guard in their familiar bronze and
vermilion uniform try to maintain order between
themselves being quite curious or visibly
mistrusting of these hooligans that suddenly have
usurped the evening air. The procession continues
towards the eastern side, out along the southern
edge of this Loch Ward, to the Ustaloch’s
southern place, towards the new, completely
constructed, large, dark blue tent. Lengthy
streamers of white and silver flap with the cold
winds from the top of the structure. As you guys