They were losing.

That was obvious.

Vox Machina’s plans were never the brightest.

A group of rag-tag arms-for-hire with odd dynamics and complicated relationships? Of course they could never come to cohesive plans.

The plan had been–what they thought–smart.

They were seeking information about the Chroma Conclave, and had finally found a lead. And of course that lead led them dead-end in a cave.

While they had gotten the information they’d needed, it also resulted in a fight.

One of the dragons tied to the Chroma Conclave had followed them. Umbrasyl.

He was determined to steal their vestiges for reasons unknown to Vox Machina. But they weren’t going to let it happen.

They’d greatly underestimated a fight with an acid dragon.

The cave walls were crashing down, debris flying everywhere. The members were holding their own to the best of their ability, but everybody was beginning to tire out. Magic was carrying less strength. Yelps of pain were sounding out more frequently.

Vax was doing his best.

With his vestige, he found he could fly. Black raven wings that carried surprising speed. It was a great vantage point with his daggers, he’d thought.

But he’d gotten smacked around one too many times. He was becoming sloppy. His ribs were bruised, feathers fluffing out with every swipe from Umbrasyl–being in the air didn’t give him as much of an advantage as he’d hoped.

The dragon turned, his wing catching on a ledge and tossing more rubble. Some members of the group got temporarily knocked prone.

Vax had been trying to find a vantage point.

The swing had come too fast. He hadn’t anticipated it.

One second, he was flying along the caves wall. The next, he felt a sharp pain in his chest and his spine as he was roughly thrown into the cave floor.

His daggers flew out to the side as he was thrown–Umbrasyl had finally knocked him down.

A large, nasty gash took up the space of his torso–from his pecs to above his belly button. It dented the armor, cutting it open.

The armor could be mended.

Vax? Not so sure.

Umbrasyl had moved toward Vax–clearly ready to claim Deathwalker’s Ward and perhaps his life–but Vex’ahlia had distracted him with a well-placed arrow.

He heard shouting in the distance, but everything was hazy. His ears were ringing. He couldn’t move.

He felt like he was dying.