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.
“During the Second Antinium War, there were mighty Goblin Lords. Each known for their abilities in some way or another. One was known as the greatest warrior, someone whose skill at arms let him cut the air itself, a Goblin who could match any [Blademaster], any [Sword Dancer] or [Duelist]. He was called Greydath, I think. Greydath of Blades. That old Goblin reminded me of him.”
She had a class. She was a Level 24 [Skeleton Knight], a Level 2 [Barmaid], a Level 4 [Leader], a Level 5 [Tactician] and now, a Level 3 [Sword Dancer]. Those classes defined her. No other undead could level, but Toren could. And she could think. Truly think, not just hunt the living as the other undead did. She was special, but also a prisoner of this dungeon.
No! The mask couldn’t go on his face! When it did, she came out. He had no idea why she’d appeared, but the clothing he wore, his new [Sword Dancer] class, all that was a result of the new personality that had appeared in him. When he wore the mask he was no longer he, but her. And he hated her.
The Gnoll [Archer] and [Sword Dancer] Human, Pekona, both nodded and moved to cover the other entrance. Insill and Dasha walked past Gemhammer. They took up a casual guard so that both entrances were watched. Earlia nodded.
The Raskghar were already waiting for her. Especially the special one. Toren halted in front of their camp. She adjusted her mask. And she moved forwards slowly, as gracefully as the two Soldiers. She was a [Sword Dancer], Level 13. It might not be enough today. It hadn’t the last twenty three times.
“Sword arts need to be used in combat, at the right time. You have to set them up, not like Skills. They’re powerful, but situational. Drathians are reported to be experts in that field. As are [Martial Artists], [Blademasters], [Sword Dancers]…”
The Drake waited as the [Prince] and [Sword Dancer] took flanking positions. Zenol met Pekona’s eyes. Saw nothing but calm determination. He gritted his teeth.
Toren had his steel longsword in the broom closet. However, he was well aware that the Level 28 [Skeleton Knight] and Level 13 [Sword Dancer] classes would not avail him against Venitra. She had been created to kill Gold-ranks, and she could do that before activating the enchantments on her body.
“No, not like that. That is simply walking, like a brick. Walk like the [Sword Dancer] you met. Not suggestively with a sway to your hips. Too obvious. Subtly. Like—yes. Very good.”
Ylawes bit his tongue because he’d forgotten one of their number, the silent Drathian [Sword Dancer], had lost a limb dueling the Revenant. She just nodded to him as Dasha waved at Dawil. Dawil pretended not to see her.
The one-armed [Sword Dancer] was the last member of Vuliel Drae, but Ylawes didn’t know much about her other than her origins—and silence. She had lost a hand during the Village of the Dead raid and paid a higher price than most survivors. However—she didn’t complain, and she was apparently still adventuring. He thought she kept sneaking away from her team in the middle of the night, but he didn’t know if that was his imagination.
A [Sword Dancer]. Pekona held the shorter, curved wakizashi up across her body, horizontally, edge facing upwards. It seemed as if she would leap into the air or start dancing across the snow any moment.
A curving, vertical cut that switched to a horizontal stroke followed by another diagonal—Pekona spun past the shark’s right flank, cutting fast, the [Sword Dancer]’s blade lacerating the thick hide. The shark curved and snapped at her—and she spun aside.
