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.
Rags saw the black crossbow’s bolt catch the Gold Stone Chieftain in the chest and grimaced. She’d ordered her Hob archers to take the shot, and she’d also told them to try not to kill the enemy Chieftain if possible. Well, one out of two was good enough.
The Gold Stone Chieftain lurched to his feet and lumbered over to Rags. She glanced up at him, and then pointed to some food her Goblins were dragging out. He nodded, and meekly walked over to eat without so much as a word of protest or moment of hesitation.
Even the newly defeated Gold Stone Chieftain seemed perfectly happy to munch down on the dead Corusdeer her hunters had killed while she reworked his Goblins into her tribe. He had acknowledged her strength and had given in; his tenuous subservience to the Red Fang tribe hadn’t been worth more than his life.
Rags was relieved of that. This was an easy battle she’d won by virtue of superior tactics and a well-planned trap; but other tribes might have gone down fighting. And best yet, the Gold Stone Chieftain had accepted her. If he’d thought she was completely unworthy to lead, he would have fought her to the very last.
They were twelve now, former Chieftains and the strongest warriors of a tribe the lot of them. They weren’t all fat, like her former Chieftain and the Gold Stone Chieftain were. Hobs could be huge, round creatures, but some were just tall versions of Goblins. In any case, they were all her best warriors, easily the equivalent of any two Silver-rank team of adventurers.
Rags didn’t even see him swing his sword. She only saw the Hob next to her move, and then the Gold Stone Chieftain was in front of her, taking the one-handed slash meant for Rags.
The blow broke the Hob’s shield and cut through his armor. Rags stared as the Gold Stone Chieftain fell, bleeding. The Red Fang Chieftain shook his head, and then raised his sword. And his warriors attacked.
Peaceful? Yes, apparently so. Rags found that some of the Chieftains she’d conquered – the Gold Stone Chieftain in particular – knew more about Goblin history than she did. It was custom for Chieftains to meet and trade on occasion, another thing that neither Rags nor Garen knew.
The Gold Stone Chieftain nodded importantly as he relayed this information while they ate. The Goblin King had had a tribe larger than any other, and he had been largely peaceful. He had been a Goblin Chieftain at first, and then a Goblin Lord, and then had come the day when others called him Goblin King.
It had been glorious, apparently. What few scraps the Gold Stone Chieftain could recall was of his ancestors being happy, fed, and safe. But then something…bad had happened, and there had been war.
Rags didn’t even see him swing his sword. She only saw the Hob next to her move, and then the Gold Stone Chieftain was in front of her, taking the one-handed slash meant for Rags.
She found the Gold Stone Chieftain munching on something as he rested near a tree. He was waiting for the Goblins around him to keep moving forwards—Rags had passed by a pile of Goblins. One idiot had slipped and the others had all fallen down because of that.
She had to admire that. The pine needles were easy to get on the march, and it was a good snack. If you could handle the pricking, that was. She saw several other Goblins around the Chieftain trying to imitate him and spitting out the sharp pine needles after a few moments. But the Gold Stone Chieftain just chewed determinedly, grinding the tough fibers into mush.
He turned as Rags marched over. The Gold Stone Chieftain nodded his head towards her—Rags felt better about that. It wasn’t as if Goblins had to salute her or bow, but they did acknowledge their Chieftain.
