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.
“The history Drakes aren’t taught is Az’kerash’s legacy before he fell. Once, he was an Archmage of Terandria, a contemporary of Archmage Zelkyr, even. After he was deemed a monster and hunted, he turned on his homeland. For over a century he plagued Terandria and despite the best efforts of the [Knights], kingdoms, and other forces present on the continent, he escaped them every time. One could argue that he in fact won each conflict because no matter how many times his undead minions were slain and he was forced to flee, he himself was always alive, and came back stronger after biding his time.”
To those who knew him, Archmage Viltach was known as ‘The Archmage of Terandria’. A curious title—but people would refer to him as the Terandrian Archmage and others would know what they meant.
“If it had been them, we would have known, I think. And of them—no, I do not think even the Death of Magic could have altered such a spell from afar and without being obvious. No one should have known of this.”
It was beyond her comprehension, how they lived. They should rage. Rage, against the kingdoms who had slaughtered them, breaking ancient pacts. She had listened to Silvenia’s lessons, read the books only Demons wrote or kept.
And yet…no one was blameless. So the Giants were right. Here they were. She had to make a choice. The [King] had offered her a choice. Silvenia had offered her many choices.
The girl from Earth had saved her life. Silvenia spoke, freezing by seconds. Her voice echoed. She should not have been alive. She was still wounded. Looking at her hurt Flora.
Bazeth shifted. The others looked at Flora. But even the Demons did not know. They stood with Silvenia. Apart from her. Staring at her like Flora looked up at the Giants.
Now, the half-Elf laughed. Her staff rose. And Flora’s feet left the ground. The sixty Demons, Silvenia, and the girl floated higher. The half-Elf looked at her.
Then she nodded. Silvenia smiled, her eyes lighting up even more brilliantly. She raised her staff higher. And the Demons walked. The world blurred around them. Flora walked too. The gun was in the holster at her side.
Because it didn’t matter. Not at all. Silvenia led them through the brilliant night. Flora stepped through clouds. They followed the half-Elf. She needed no weapons from Earth.
Flora had seen images of weapons which erased cities. She had flown above the land. She had told the Demons of all these things. And Silvenia had taken a sprig of grass in hand. The half-Elf had split the sea. She had cured the blind and brought down fire. Then she had taken the staff and shown Flora wonders.
None of it mattered. The half-Elf walked the skies once more. King Othius IV woke from his dreams turned to nightmares. And Silvenia laughed. She had but one weakness in the entire world and it was this:
