day fourteen >> attrition
#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxiv #prompt #exlibris #au #graha #zenos #estinien #alphinaud #alisaie #yshtola #shitpost
warnings: none, unless you have issues with shitposting
general: the ex libris gang plays in-universe dnd
noun
- the act of rubbing together, also the act of wearing or grinding down by friction
- the act of weakening or exhausting by constant harassment, abuse, or attack
- a reduction in numbers usually as a result of resignation, retirement, or death
The twins are fighting again.
Behind his game screen Urianger rests his face in his hands with a deep groan.
Estinien plays with his drake warden minifig, ignoring the combat in progress and any other figures, tokens, and set pieces placed on the dungeon map.
Y’shtola sighs heavily and moves to the whiteboard, wet erase marker at the ready.
G’raha amuses himself by tossing peanuts into the air and catching them in his mouth.
Zenos watches G’raha catch the snacks the way a starving hawk watches a three-legged mouse scuttle through underbrush.
“You said you were gonna play a cleric this time,” complains Alphinaud, for what feels like the fiftieth time.
Y’shtola makes a mark on the board under the heading ‘CLERIC’. It is indeed the fiftieth mark.
“I am a cleric though?” Alisaie is the picture of nonchalance, hooking her foot in the legs of G’raha’s chair to yank him out from under the falling legume. It plonks him square in the forehead and changes trajectory to cross the table, where Zenos catches it in his mouth, never breaking eye contact with G’raha.
“You don’t play cleric because you never prepare healing spells. You’re playing a rogue with a divine clone so you can steal twice as much stuff.”
“Yea but I could prepare healing spells and that’s what counts.”
Y’shtola makes mark number forty-two under the heading ‘HEALING SPELLS’.
Estinien looks up from his figurines. “Was that really the plan the whole time?”
“Yup,” replies Alisaie, without a trace of shame.
Zenos laughs. “Nice.”
Urianger makes use of the break to catch up on his notes. The encounter wasn’t going in the party’s favor at all. Brows drawn tightly together he opens his battered copy of The Dungeon Master’s Guide to Crystals & Crossroads and scans the pages for some new insight.
“Can we maybe just play? Alphinaud’s bard can heal…?” asks G’raha.
Alphinaud rounds on him with uncharacteristic venom, “I don’t see you preparing any healing spells either. You should be helping me. For example, lay on hands? Or is that still ‘emergencies only’?”
G’raha tosses a nut to Alisaie, who leaps from her chair and catches it like a performing seal. “Yep, sorry, emergencies only.”
“Wha—?!“
Y’shtola, looking amused, creates a new heading ‘LAY ON HANDS’ and adds one tally mark beneath.
The red-haired miqo’te points to Zenos, “Blood Hunters can’t do anything about poisons or disease.”
Zenos responds with the ‘I’m watching you, buddy’ motion, eyes wild and threatening. Dedication to the RP was Zenos’ strong suit, the reason he played the game. He never breaks character and this blood hunter has a feud with G’raha’s paladin.
Next, G’raha gestures at Estinien, “Same with Rangers.”
He simply nods, tucking a long fall of silver hair behind one pointed ear. Estinien’s ranger, like himself, was prone to brooding silence, preferring the company of his drake companion named Orn Khai. Apparently he’d named it from some legend or other, nobody could verify the tale but it probably existed. Estinien has a dragon fixation, to put it mildly, so if anyone knew all the tiniest bits of pointless dragon lore it would be him.
Finally, G’raha flicks an ear toward Y’shtola at the whiteboard, “Surely I don’t have to remind you that of all the PC’s a warlock is the absolute—“
She does her best evil laugh, the one her PC does before the whole party is about to have a bad time. One session in particular springs to mind, wherein the warlock sold her own soul to two different buyers one after another with no discernible consequences, then managed to raffle off the bard’s soul to the highest bidder without his knowledge or permission.
“Young Alphinaud, pray locate thine seat,” comes a sonorous voice from behind the screen, “lest thee forfeit thine action this round.”
Defeated, Alphinaud sinks into his chair, shoulders hunched. “I cast healing word at second-level on Zero viator Dementious then put bardic inspiration on Meteor for my bonus action,” he monotones.
“Sweet!” chirps G’raha, adding a charge of inspiration to his character sheet.
“Just so! Rolleth a duet of yon four-faced die, and forget not to make an addition of four to thine total.”
Zenos nods in appreciation as he waits for the roll’s outcome.
Y’shtola makes one final mark under the heading ‘CRUSHING DEFEAT,’ rounding out the tallies at an even one hundred, before reclaiming her seat with a smirk.