Aliases are alternative forms of a reference. They can include actual aliases for characters, nicknames, gendered variations of the some [Classes], plural variations, and even typos.
The little Goblin ducked a swat from one holding his crotch and fled. She didn’t know the name of Injured Crotch, but that was now his nickname in her mind. Goblins didn’t have names. Only their [Chieftain] had any real title, and he was scariest of all.
But it was safe from big monsters and other things. Even if the [Chieftain] sometimes got stuck going in and out, this place was far safer than outside.
A dead deer. The [Chieftain] had found food! All the Goblins were watching hungrily, but the [Chieftain] would eat first. Then, the little Goblin hoped, there would be at least bones, but possibly some hot meat.
A dead deer. The [Chieftain] had found food! All the Goblins were watching hungrily, but the [Chieftain] would eat first. Then, the little Goblin hoped, there would be at least bones, but possibly some hot meat.
The fruits were placed next to the deer carcass, but the [Chieftain] snarled and kicked the fruits away. The Goblins were made to take them away from the precious meat and remove the little bad things.
He had taught them numbers. So he could tell them to get ten blue fruits each. Learning to count was amazing. The little Goblin had counted teeth, flies, Goblins—until the [Chieftain] kicked dirt at her.
This was the little Goblin’s life. She sat, listening to her [Chieftain] growling, an echo of her tummy. She curled up as he demanded to know why his warriors were hurt.
They didn’t tell him. And the other Goblins didn’t either because the [Chieftain] would be very mad to know they’d let a single Human live. So he just hit them and made them look for more things to eat.
The little Goblin sat there and watched the [Chieftain] out of the corner of her eye. He sat there, a scowl on his face. Angry. Always angry. But the other Goblins were like that. Angry. Or they woke up and slept and ate.
She didn’t know why, but they were missing something. When, rarely, they stole something very nice like the colorful water, the [Chieftain] would get happy and then angrier still, or quiet. And he would do what no other Goblin did and talk. And he would say there should be more Goblins. A bigger cave. And the Goblins would listen to him until he scattered them with a fist or one of his great weapons, an axe made out of bone.
He spoke for the first time in two rocks and one grass as the little Goblin listened. Two words. The [Chieftain] looked around and growled as he wiped blood and spat fur from his mouth.
She almost liked the Human for beating the one who tried to creep into the second floor. She hit him a lot. She thought the warriors wouldn’t tell the Chieftain about this, either.
They were lucky; there was nothing hunting them when they got to the stream. After a few big mouthfuls of water, the group was ready to bring water back to the tribe and [Chieftain] when they found the basket.
