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.
“Every last one, Umina. Or rather, they were hired. [Prostitutes], [Merchants], [Thieves]—some of them quite high-level! I’m pleased to say that many of you navigated most of the threats well, but some of you…well, let’s just get to the analysis, shall we? And our first student is…”
But Foliana just sat there. Staring. The thirty third of the brothel’s [Prostitutes]—although that was a lower-level class than whatever this Naga had—came forwards. He came forwards without a word. His scales shone, and his smile was wicked and enticing.
Well, they’d been going at it for two hours. Xeppal was the best [Prostitute] in the Slippery Tail. He didn’t have a male refractory period. And Geneva?
“They operate [Prostitutes], [Nightwalkers]—and a lot of racketeering. Don’t mess with them if you’re male. They’ll cut your balls off. Lots of them are former escorts with combat classes.”
Now she had her day-reading material set up, Yisame reached for the books she’d actually read in her time off. If she was lucky, no one would disturb her for a few hours. At least! She pulled out the latest book she’d had smuggled in with one of the [Prostitutes] who often just took naps in the sex dungeon. They knew the score.
Level 8. Nothing special. She wrote her own adventure stories. Nothing published…not even close to that. But sometimes it burst out of her and she could not help but put it down to words. She hadn’t even shown the [Reader]-[Prostitute] who smuggled her books her writings on Thivian; Yisame had written a lot on the Lightning Thief.
They were heading off. Clearly, not to sleep, but to meet with…Zail’s brows furrowed more. Xesci, the [Prostitute] that Ilvriss had added to his personal group of advisors.
The Slayer ran. He had a Gnoll [Prostitute] on one shoulder, whom he was shielding from the arrows. It was not a kidnapping, despite the shouting. She was definitely not resisting and covering her face as the arrows flashed past her.
“I’m picturing the next city we get to. Hraace, depending on what it’s like. A brothel. Not the top [Courtesan] or [Prostitute], mind you, but the owner herself. Sixties, a confident woman, the kind who’d sweep him off his feet, toss him to the winds, and leave him wandering around in a daze. Perfect heartbreak.”
