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 Gecko of Liscor. Relc Grasstongue. From what I can recall he was never formally married, but had a child out of wedlock with another soldier—a [Major]—when he was quite young. And my understanding is that this Wing Commander Embria grew up travelling with Liscor’s army, so I would assume she was raised by both parents as Liscor’s army travelled from place to place. As for Relc Grasstongue himself, he had a notable career for over two and a half decades until he suddenly retired, an oddity among Liscor’s [Soldiers]. Considered highly dangerous…known for his speed which could match a Courier’s…what else? He never made it past [Sergeant], and in an army like Liscor’s that’s telling.”
“It was a different time! After the First Antinium War, when we held the walls and we could count the number of officers that survived? I had [Majors] and [Colonels] knocking on my door, very nice young Drakes and Gnolls. Always in need of gold. Always so thankful, as were the high command. And between all of it, the donations to the city, the rest, I suppose it ran out. That was an unpleasant day. I had to sell a lot of my gear to pay off the debts by the time I broke even.”
4th Company’s officers got their own, smaller mess hall to eat in. The [Captains], [Lieutenants], and a few [Sergeants] had the privilege of dining with their [Wing Commander], a rank roughly equivalent to [Major] in other military traditions. The [Commander] rank that Embria possessed meant she acted with autonomy and authority; the officer ranks below her possessed some of the privileges and abilities she did, but the [Wing Commander] class was a leadership role of note.
The Drake [Major] was snapping at people asking questions. And he was not in a mood to share details, even if he’d been privy to them. He put his hand on the hilt of the mace he carried when words weren’t enough.
The [Major] called out weakly. The two elites, a Dullahan and Drake, crossed the blades they carried—long glaive-type weapons—in front of the doors. Saliss paused.
He tried to limbo under the spears. The Drake [Major] stared at Saliss. Like a true Pallassian, he almost forgot Saliss was naked, even though it was…obvious.
Saliss was edging around the spears. The [Soldiers] were looking at the [Major] for guidance. By all rights, they should have already picked Saliss up, slammed him onto the street, and proceeded to kick him hard enough to justify his visit to another [Healer].
For someone else they might have. But Saliss just leaned on the two spears the [Soldiers] were keeping crossed. He gave the Drake [Major] a cheerful grin.
Another [Major] was begging to lead a charge with his brigade. They surrounded the [Supreme Marshal], who, sensing the end was nigh, had abandoned all luxuries and was standing at the command table.
“Not under our command? What do I do? Just ignore them? They’re being led by some Gnoll with a fancy spear. Listen, [Major]. I at least need to tell them where to go. I won’t have some cowardly [Mercenary Captain] running off if…”
