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.
One of the [Mages] looked affronted as she peered at the picture. She had oddly large eyes, and she was a Drake. She wore spectacles to keep her eyes nearsighted; she was a [Scrier], from the Scriptel faction. Bookworms, essentially. Elena sighed.
“You think they let me near a [Scrier]? I tried sending a [Message] to the Singer of—but I’m banned. Could it be one of the Lizardfolk? They’re funny.”
“Just remember. Don’t look directly at the [Scrier]. You’re acting. Pretending. Dame Neranthei, you’re first. Right here, you see? As we pass by this rise…so you’re walking this route. Let’s go through it.”
Cara walked over to the starting point. The [Scrier] took a position across from her, so she was smaller in the background but still visible. The [Makeup Artist] from Earth ran over to check Cara one last time.
In reality, the problem with a [Scrying] spell not bound to a person—and no one could scry the three directly—was that you had to move it in every axis. Up, down, left, right—even managing the coordinate system meant an entire class of [Diviner], [Seer], [Scrier], had to manage one spell.
Othius the Fourth gave voice in the morning, with a prepared [Scrier]. The Blighted King’s posture was perfect, his clothing brilliant. He spoke gravely to the audience who woke to his words.
“The other one’s tricky is why. Any group in the area should reach out. But—hold on. Excuse me! Can we get a [Scrier] here to send out one of our [Messages]? We need to re-code and have it in the Mage’s Guild in the following locations before the banquet!”
The Garuda checked his friend. The Drake rubbed at his face and looked back at the [Scrier], but she couldn’t have done that. Blushing under his scales, he adjusted his robes and stormed off.
Acquire if possible? The half-Elf looked at the [Scrier] as she began sending the spell. Then he looked around. He walked over to a board across the room, away from the people monitoring the broadcasts.
Something rose behind them, and adventurers cried out. A [Scrier] spun, gaping, yet neither half-Elf nor Human looked back. They only had eyes for their team, and the Village. Pisces turned to Ceria.
He was in a bad mood, so the half-Elf was going at twice the necessary speed as the [High Mage] and [Communication Mages] and [Scriers] in the group desperately cribbed notes.
He had also been daring enough to lead the expedition there. The Naga was watchful. He gazed around. One of the [Scriers] looked around at the thick overgrowth. Towering trees stood overhead, and the foliage had been so thick it had been practically a wall.
