Aliases are alternative forms of a reference. They can include actual aliases for characters, nicknames, plural variations, gendered versions of some [Classes], and even typos.
“Please excuse my companion, Miss Erin. We will abide by your rules so long as we remain at the inn. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Falene Skystrall. At your service.”
Erin blinked at the half-Elf and took her in for the first time. She had light red hair, unearthly features like Ceria, but where the two half-Elves differed was age and bearing. Ceria was down-to-earth when you got to know her. Whereas this half-Elf was clearly older and conducted herself with the grace and dignity that Erin ascribed to typical stories about Elves. As Falene introduced herself she bowed elegantly and made a complicated gesture with her left hand. Erin bowed back awkwardly, feeling clumsy compared to the other half-Elf.
She raised her staff and tapped Ylawes on the breastplate. There was a loud knocking sound and then the frosting and cake stuck to his armor, face and hair immediately dried and fell to the ground. Erin whistled, and Falene nodded in satisfaction. She followed the Dwarf to the table as Ishkr hurried back with a few drinks.
He stomped after his two teammates and sat at the table. Erin looked around. Mrsha was running about wildly on a sugar high, Ksmvr was eying the remains of the cake on the ground, Pisces was licking his fingers, and Ceria was staring at Falene with a frown. The Halfseekers were pointing at the Silver Swords and clearly about to wander over and introduce themselves, Ishkr and Drassi were busy getting more food from the kitchens, and Ilvriss was looking around, discontented that no one was paying attention to him.
The Dwarf grinned to himself for all of five seconds until Falene tapped him on the head with her staff. He roared in outrage as the dark brown hair on his head began to smolder and doused the flames with his free drink. Falene stood up to walk over to Ceria as Dawil hurled his mug at her back. It flew towards her head then froze and gently floated onto another table. The Dwarf returned to his table, muttering about half-Elves who couldn’t take jokes.
The Dwarf grinned to himself for all of five seconds until Falene tapped him on the head with her staff. He roared in outrage as the dark brown hair on his head began to smolder and doused the flames with his free drink. Falene stood up to walk over to Ceria as Dawil hurled his mug at her back. It flew towards her head then froze and gently floated onto another table. The Dwarf returned to his table, muttering about half-Elves who couldn’t take jokes.
“What? Battle tactics? Strategic maneuvers? What do you think our group is? We’re adventurers! We charge in and sort things out afterwards. I hit things with my hammer, Ylawes hits things with his sword, and Falene twiddles her fingers and shoots sparks at monsters while she hides behinds our backs. It’s a sound strategy!”
At another table Falene Skystrall lightly observed her companion as she sipped from a cup of wine and cut into one of Erin’s pre-cooked steaks. She had been pleasantly surprised to find out how many different dishes were on the menu, and more surprised at how fast it had appeared. Now she ate with excellent manners, sitting in her chair across from Ceria. And Pisces.
The [Necromancer] had invited himself to the table after washing his hands of cake and neither half-Elf had chased him away. Ceria didn’t have the heart for it and Falene didn’t seem to mind. In truth, Ceria was slightly grateful for Pisces’ presence. She felt awkward in the company of another half-Elf after so long.
Especially since Falene had given her a very traditional, very old-fashioned greeting. She was clearly a traditionalist and she had to be at least eighty years old! True, she looked barely older than her late twenties, but Ceria knew there was a big shift in perspectives depending on the age of a half-Elf. They were half-Human after all, and like Humans, they changed far more rapidly than their distant ancestors had.
Ceria grimaced. Falene raised two eyebrows at her, the model of composure. Ceria bit the inside of her lip. Yup, definitely a traditionalist. Falene was the kind of half-Elf who tried to act like she thought true Elves had. That was to say, almost graceful, always elegant, and the voice of logic and reason within any group. You’d never catch her squatting in the bushes after eating something that didn’t agree with her system.
