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.
“Tribes and tribulations. Excuse me, Miss. Watch the blood. If that [Guardsman] asks…pretend you never saw me. I’ve got to get this to the [Butchers] before the Acid Flies are all over.”
Hence, there were no real suburbs, just residential streets with four stories of buildings next to or above shops. Erin saw the fellow who’d killed that odd deer again, depositing his kill with the [Butcher]. He was having a hard time.
A butcher’s. Or was it a [Butcher]? Erin saw more of that oddly cursive writing on storefronts, helpful sign posts…she guessed that this city would be easy to navigate. If she could read.
“To put it simply, classes are general ways of life that individuals take. In life, one might choose to become a [Butcher], or perhaps a [Musician]. It is simply a matter of fulfilling the requirements. Often, they are known, but there are exceptions. One cannot simply take [Ruler]-type classes for instance.”
One of those Gnolls, a tall [Butcher] named Dreshhi growled low as the thief finally disappeared from sight. He had been one of those who wanted to kill the girl—and then chop her into bits and eat her. He was still furious, both at the Human child and at the city itself.
The snowy world descended into organized chaos as the green-skinned Goblins began scurrying around. Rags watched as those Goblins with levels in [Cook]…or more accurately, its sub-classes, [Butcher], [Scavenger], [Stewer], and so on, began making food. Garen blinked around at his tribe and waved at them. Then he looked at Rags.
“Because it gets harder to level up! And people think it’s age, but—okay, let’s say you’re a Level 20 [Butcher], but you have ten other levels in…I don’t know, [Dancer]. That means that the system would treat you as a Level 30 person when it comes to leveling up, slowing your growth. And that also means that adventurers, generals…everyone is stunting their growth and maximum level by taking on needless classes!”
“I really don’t mind trying to learn to sew or cook. Or—I thought I could even learn a class like [Butcher] or [Receptionist]. I’m not picky. I’d try anything if I had the chance.”
Most of the Humans they passed had formed small groups—former [Shopkeepers] and [Butchers] and so on holding weapons they didn’t know how to use. But if they all attacked the Redfang Goblins at once, the warriors would be torn to bits no matter how superior their equipment and levels were.
That was then. Now Pawn was something else. Not just a [Tactician] or [Carpenter] or [Butcher], but something that defined him. He had a class that was unique to him, something no one else had. He was an [Acolyte]. The first of his kind.
At first. But each day, Pawn had come back, his Soldiers carrying dead Shield Spiders, Corusdeer carcasses, and other proof of their victories against the dangerous creatures roaming around Liscor. That was all they did. They went out, patrolled the landscape, and came back with spoils that were turned into meat for [Butchers], armor for [Blacksmiths], ingredients for [Alchemists], and so on.
Noise. Erin clattered around with pots and pans, lighting fires, shouting at Lyonette that they might need more pepper, and felt the inn stir a bit. She began heating up the oven. Apparently, you needed to prepare pork belly ahead of time with spices and stuff. Erin had never made it before, but her [Advanced Cooking] Skill had warned her of the time requirement. Thankfully, there were Gnoll [Butchers] who sold pre-prepared pork belly. The spices looked good and Erin scraped them off before shoving the meat into the oven for some cooking.
