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.
Torishi. Chieftain of the Weatherfur Tribe. Next to her walked Feshi. They joined the Gnolls, who formed a semi-circle. The Raskghar in their cages snarled, eying the others. Sensing their power.
No less than the Chieftain of their tribe, Torishi, was greeting them, under a halo of light from the sky, the manifestation of her weather aura. Wil blinked.
But technically, Feshi was Torishi’s first cousin five times removed. Not exactly ‘close in the tribe’, given that Weatherfur’s Gnolls shared a common bloodline. Most Gnolls could probably boast something like that of all their Honored members. Why did it matter? It didn’t unless someone said it. Then Feshi was the niece of the Chieftain, [Strategist] of the Titan’s Academy, as if he didn’t graduate countless [Strategists]…
It was a flaw, but it had led Weatherfur’s Gnolls to do great things. Garusa Weatherfur had been one of the few [Generals] ever to be employed by a Drake city, and Torishi was a [Shaman] turned [Chieftain] by dint of her amazing proficiency with weather magic.
Gnolls. Two of them. One was no less than Torishi Weatherfur. The other—and Feshi felt a bit bad about this, but she’d accepted the invitation, of course she had—was Akrisa Silverfang. She had her [Shaman] standing next to her, and it seemed there were more Gnolls all waiting in the background of both frames.
The two Chieftains exchanged a glance. Akrisa opened her mouth, then Torishi spoke. She drew herself up. She was no immortal or half immortal, but she was as dignified as Feshi could have hoped. Even indoors, the sun shone around her, her permanent aura. When she was wrathful, the air was charged; when she was sad, it rained. Right now, the sun shone, but it was expectant. A prelude to something else.
Chaldion of Pallass, the oldest Drake Feshi had ever seen, raised his glass slightly. Akrisa stiffened. Torishi glared, and the other rulers murmured. Someone clearly whispered in Desonis’ frame.
That sneering remark came from Chieftain Torishi. Eldavin—he was in charge of giving those who asked for it time to speak—looked at Altestiel. The Earl bowed slightly to Torishi.
Chaldion ignored both of them. He looked quite deliberately at Torishi, then at Eldavin, then at the King of Minotaurs, eye steady. He took a sip from his glass, exhaled softly.
Dead silence. Yisame dropped her fan. Jecaina sat forward, and Fetohep waved away his goblet, looking as if even the immortal drink had soured on him. Torishi’s eyes widened. The Queen of Desonis gasped.
