lowkey a devastating interaction on the short rest
emily: i was feeling really guilty about how much i was critting, or i guess not guilty just like everyone’s going to be really mad at me
murph, genuinely annoyed and disdainful (rightfully) at the idea of people being mad at em: who cares
truly i wish the worst for anyone who has ever given emily axford a hard time for being a stellar roleplayer and one of the great dnd players of all time and i promise you that murph does too
I love finding out random lore from Dimension 20 people but finding out anything about Emily Axford and Brian Murphy during NADDPOD/short rest is truly hilarious.
Emily, what do you mean your parents treated you to the oats and sometimes marshmallows of Lucky Charms during childhood piano lessons?
Murph, what do you mean you were scared of being murdered as a child so you would stay awake and stand in the middle of your bedroom all night?
Emily Axford and Brian Murphy were truly made for one another.
doing my relisten to naddpod C1 with the patreon and it’s such a pleasure to do as someone who has the funds for the patreon now and is also in love. like, the love and compassion that the players have for each other and the people around them is SO palpable within the characters and the story and the shenanigans they get up to on the short rest. it’s like going through a scrapbook of the best story of your life and this time remembering each moment with full context and understanding. thanks to these silly millennials for making the one of the greatest stories ever told. and also it starts with dragon pussy. i love you naddpod
What started as a silly idea to have the tadfools test whether Astarion could pair each companion’s unlabeled blood samples to its owner quickly devolved into Astarion being a menace and reading everyone to filth 😆 I was clearly not in charge of this Short Rest. So in the words of Mama RuPaul:
✨📚The library is open, hunnies👓✨
Short Rest Rating: General
Characters: Miss Fortune (non-binary Tav OC); Astarion; Lae'zel; Shadowheart; Halsin; Gale; Wyll; Karlach
Word Count: 2k
CW: blood drinking
Summary: The companions put Astarion's ability to identify blood to the test; he bites back with pointed assessments of each companions' personalities.
~~~~~~~
The smell of blood punctured the pleasant afternoon Astarion had been passing reading a novel about a wizard and his apprentice in his tent. The scent sent rumbles through his traitorous stomach but he thought nothing of it at first; it was close to supper time, and accidents happened whenever kitchen knives and cooking fires were involved. But when he smelled a second distinct blood source and then a third and fourth, alarm bells began to sound.
With a snarl, the vampire threw his book down and popped into a crouch to grab his daggers. When he whiffed the distinct bouquet of Miss Fortune's blood his rage intensified; someone must have blanketed the camp in a Silence spell and ambushed them! The assailants would die for that; and if they seriously injured Miss Fortune he'd make sure they suffered first.
It didn't take long to dash out of his tent, battle-ready and seething—only to nearly collide with Miss Fortune. Judging by the surprised look on their face and the way their hand was held out, it seemed they had been on their way to fetch him.
"What in the wretched hells is going on?!" Astarion demanded, mouth contorted into an agitated scowl.
Miss Fortune met his ire with a grin. "Don't be mad, but—"
"I make no promises, darling."
"Tch. Such a grump! Buuuut… me and the crew were chatting, like we do. And we all thought it'd be fun to see just how good that nose of yours is."
They booped the tip of his nose with their finger for emphasis, eliciting another snarl from Astarion as he tried to nip it. Although if he were being honest with himself, the alarm and jagged, icy annoyance was quickly melting into amusement; it was hard to stay mad at the gorgeous, silly snack standing before him.
"We all donated a sample and put them on the provisions table. We wanted to see if you could pick mine out from a lineup."
Gods, those waggling eyebrows, that smug grin. The way their pecs flexed when they crossed their arms in front of their chest. Astarion wanted to kiss the look right off their face, make them dissolve into a fit of gleeful shrieks and giggles and…Focus, Astarion. Best not get carried away.
Astarion shouldered past Miss Fortune, trailing fingers along their arm as he passed. He noted with delight the way they shivered and leaned into his touch. He so had them wrapped around his treacherous little fingers. The rest of the companions stood excitedly behind the provisions table, which was laden with seven vials filled to the brim with blood. Each nursed a bandage around their forearm; even Gale, he noted with a crinkle of his nose.
"Oh? And you thought so long as blood was on offer I'd subject myself to your whims and be tonight's entertainment, did you? Is that all I am? A spectacle to gawk at?" Astarion tried to put enough vitriol into his voice while suppressing the urge to lick his lips.
"Mmm, you're quite the spectacle to behold," Miss Fortune's voice caressed him from behind, tickling that traitorous part of his mind just as delicately as if they'd laid their silken hands on his bare skin.
Ignore them, Astarion.
"Well if you don't want to play we can always toss the blood," Shadowheart challenged, her face stern.
Astarion darted forward, an involuntary hiss escaping his lips. "Now now, let's not be wasteful. I didn't say I wouldn't play along; merely noting the disparity. None of you have ever had to sing for your supper."
Karlach shoved a chair in Astarion's direction, gesturing for him to sit. With a nonchalant swagger, Astarion approached. Taking a big inhale, his senses were greeted by the competing aromas of his companions' blood. He had tasted them all by this point, since they'd begun a rotation of anonymous donations upon entering the shadow-cursed lands. But two among them stood out immediately. Astarion's hand darted out to pick up the third vial from the left, holding it out in front of him.
"This one's Miss Fortune's. I'd recognize that bouquet anywhere, even on a battlefield."
A mixed chorus of groans and whoops erupted as Astarion tenderly kissed the vial's glass and set it down once more, resolved to save the best for last.
"I told you guys!" Miss Fortune crowed. "Now pay up, everyone. Thanks, sweetie. You just earned me a nice little payout. I'll have to give you your cut later."
The way they grabbed themselves left no room for imagination on what they were insinuating, and Astarion let out an amused guffaw not least because he knew it was a ruse; Miss Fortune had never felt less amorous than they had since entering these lands. But that was their little secret; everyone else groused and told his lover to keep their pants on.
"That was anticlimactic," Wyll cut into Astarion's thoughts. "But you've sparked my curiosity, Astarion. If you so easily picked out our leader's blood can you pair the rest of us up with our samples?"
"Child's play," Astarion sniffed, waving a hand dismissively and taking the seat Karlach offered. His hand first went to the sample all the way at the end, picking it up with a grimace. "Wizard, what did I tell you about trying to poison me?!"
Gale studied him as if he were a subject in some mad mage's laboratory, hand rubbing the scruff of his beard absentmindedly. Moments later his face brightened.
"Fascinating!" the wizard exclaimed. "You are under no obligation to consume my sanguine offering, Astarion. My intention was merely to test whether your vampiric senses would enable you to recognize the orb's—" Astarion dumped the sample onto the ground. "—Right, yes, that's quite fair."
Astarion rolled his eyes but turned his attention to the first vial. Miss Fortune swooped in with a goblet and poured its contents into it before offering it up like a sommelier at some snooty vineyard. Running with the act, Astarion gave the contents a good swirl and brought the vessel up to his nose, inhaling deeply.
"It has a nose of refinement, coupled with invigorating vapors of daddy issues," Astarion said, his vicious smile stretching wider than the rim of the glass.
He already knew whose blood this was. His companions either underestimated him or forgot they had all bled on the battlefield before. But what was the harm in adding an air of mystery? After a dramatic pause he took a dainty sip and affected a wince. Astarion would sooner take a stake to the heart than admit to Wyll his blood was his second favorite after Miss Fortune's.
"Ah yes, this blood has the unmistakable terroir of one raised in the Upper City; I'd recognize those notes of privilege and eagerness to please anywhere. It would almost be a bit too rich for my tastes if there weren't the distinct aftertaste of the Blade of Frontiers' fall from grace." He drained the goblet.
Wyll snapped his fingers with a disappointed frown before turning his deep red eye towards Astarion. "You got me," he admitted, then placed a hand on his chest. "And you went straight for the jugular while you were at it."
"Whatever could you mean, Blade? I was merely calling out the flavors as I experienced them," Astarion replied innocently as his hand reached for the next in line.
"What do we have here?" he mused, smirking like a cat who'd gotten the cream. "Strong citrus aromas like too much lime soap, followed closely by the smoke of a heavy-handed application of black eyeshadow." Gripping the stem delicately, Astarion gave this blood a brief swirl as well before drinking heartily. "Ahh, the delightful spiced bite of religious fervor coupled with bitter notes of a prickly personality. Full of contradictions, hmm, my dear Shadowheart?"
Shadowheart's only reaction was to shoot Astarion a wicked grin; they'd traded far more vicious barbs over actual wine on several occasions, he knew she could take a jab. He moved on, continuing the show of pretending to suss out the next vial's owner while his companions stared at him in open-mouthed wonder.
"Quite a rare vintage, this one is," Astarion purred. "Look at the legs as I give it a swirl. As full-bodied a red as one could hope for, though a bit overbearing for my usual standards. It would blast through the other samples without thinking twice." He made a show of downing the whole glass in one go, a rivulet of blood trickling down the side of his mouth.
"And by the hells! Despite sitting out for several minutes it still burns going down. A bit simple, I'd say, lacking in complexity. Its only notes are sulfur and pent-up sexual urges. Good gods, someone blend this wine—I mean blood—with another hot-blooded person's before its owner explodes."
Karlach hopped between her feet, looking confused. "So was that…good?" Wyll shook his head at her, and the tiefling pouted.
Astarion was having too much fun with this, and his head was buzzing pleasantly. So much so that when Miss Fortune came over to take the goblet and rinse it out with some water for him, his hand brazenly darted out to pinch their rear. The half-elf's delighted yelp was music to his ears; he had half a mind to pull them into his lap for the final three just to keep teasing them. He might have if they didn't dart away so quickly.
"Ah, a pity we've only three left. This next one is a new addition to our inventory—I mean group—and has proven rather elusive thus far. Primary notes of herbaceous thyme and oregano with secondary whiffs of oak. Clearly a barrel-aged varietal, hmm?" Astarion took a moderate sip, and then another just to draw it out before frowning. "FAR too sweet for my liking. Cloying, really. And what's this? There's a heavy guilt from years of ill-fitting responsibility. Over-fermented, to be sure, Halsin."
"Silvanus guide me," Halsin muttered. "At least I have the good sense not to bite the hands that feed, Astarion."
A haughty laugh spilled past his lips and he swayed, tipsiness dulling his poise. "My dear druid, I assure you these jests are all in good fun. One mystery sample remains before I enjoy my favorite dessert. Even before pouring it into my cup my nose was hit with hot, fiery spice! I do so love spicy meals, though if I'm not careful this one could cleave what's left of my digestive tract in two."
Without waiting for him to finish, Lae'zel crossed her arms in front of her chest and affixed a scowl to her face. Undeterred, Astarion sampled her blood heartily with a satisfied sigh at the end.
"A pungent palate on this one, all blood, sweat, and tears and dry as a sun-baked puddle. Not a drop of sweetness to be found, and a bit under-fermented; someone ought to let this one age a bit more before putting her in charge."
Astarion winked at Lae'zel, and without pausing he replaced the Githyanki's blood with Miss Fortune's and sipped.
"My favorite vintage," he said as a lopsided grin crept over his face. "Sweet beyond reason, aged before their time, sensual notes of cocoa and cinnamon. Deep flavors of sadness but all I can taste is a challenge. Truly delectable from start to finish."
"D'awwww you two are adorable!" Karlach called out. "Look at Lady Luck blushing!"
Indeed, they were. How delightful. Astarion attempted to stand once he'd finished the last of the blood but found his limbs had grown rubbery and his eyes heavy. He let out a surprised giggle—volume-wise this was nowhere close to draining a bear, but the richness of so much thinking blood had rendered him inebriated nonetheless.
"Whoa there, handsome, seems you've overindulged," Miss Fortune said with a cluck of their tongue as they rushed over to support him, throwing a noodle-like arm over their shoulder and hoisting him up. "Let's get you to bed, sweetie."
"I'm not…you're being silly, darling!" Astarion slurred, but he made no effort to resist them, tittering the whole way to his tent.
just reached my new favorite short rest, featuring literally the first ten minutes being devoted to a discussion of the utterly baffling revelation that jake hurwitz did not know how to burp for about 36 years of his life. also shout out to all of jake's uncles being named john. also shout out to the alignment chart of fap. short rest c3e26 you will forever be famous to me
How much more do we think got cut of Murph stalwartly trying to move on from this bit and Caldwell insisting he would eat off the floor if someone asked
