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.
There were barely any more [Guards] on his section of the wall either; visitors came from the north or, in the winter, the south far more often. Even the western approaches had a few farms, but the only people coming in or out were [Traders] or [Hunters].
“Er…apologies, Miss Human. We don’t see many of your kind around here, yes? A [Trader], a traveller? No need to apologize. [Broader Shoulders] means only I can carry a deer back! Half of one, at any rate. If only I had a bag of holding large enough for an entire deer, eh? I wouldn’t make a Human help me lift one of these!”
“Oh, we are fine [Traders], but we also mine silver and do much with it. I have not been home in nearly a decade, but you may find many Gnolls in Liscor are Silverfangs. Sit, sit! Ah, here is some parchment. Now, tell me what you need. And then I will have your goods delivered rather than make you pay for a bag.”
A local Drake [Trader] was commenting idly to a Human busily buying up more hay and bundles of food for his pack animals. They’d have to go just past the Bloodfields…which were probably safe…and it would be a while before they’d reach a settlement again.
They didn’t go anywhere near the building. Few of the adventurers did either, and the [Traders] offering goods had parked their shops on the edge of the crater.
Here was the thing. The [Merchant] gazed grimly at the red grass, the red soil, and the deceptively flat ground that filled the valley and only route north. The caravan of wary [Traders] and [Merchants] were one of two groups on the road—they had seen no other travellers since they passed Hectval, and it would be rare to travel until winter snow fell in earnest. Despite the hazards of snow and the wretched travel conditions—this cold fall was pushing it.
He was a Level 22 [Trader], and the Human woman walking beside a line of packhorses carrying her share of the caravan hadn’t yet managed to tell him he needed a better name and business model. Then again—she was a Human in Drake lands still, and she thought she’d leave that up to the others.
Ysara, who her colleagues and most of the South simply knew as the ‘Silver Merchant’, just shrugged in reply. She was a Level 34 [Merchant]. Far more successful than Tellgre and, honestly, most of the others in the caravan. Despite some having entire teams of [Guards] and assistant [Traders] as opposed to her being the lone member of her party—she had minimal overhead, and a few Chests of Holding carried all her goods.
Ryoka called out. She dared to raise her head with Ysara while Buleth still hid—mostly because the Gnolls had good aim and they were just loosing at Gazi. The Named-rank adventurer was laughing as she ran, and Ysara saw the younger [Traders], [Merchants], Runners, shamefaced [Guards], all slowly emerging from cover. The fight was moving uphill at speed, and now there wasn’t even a remote chance of catching an arrow; the two groups had to be half a mile away already.
The Drake realized she was right. One of the [Traders] slashed the leads off a horse, but the terrified animal was already bolting. The rest tried to get on a horse or just ran—but the insects were on top of them in moments.
Four [Guards] were down, either wounded or dead. A [Trader], Twodeals, had a huge chunk taken out of one leg, and Ysara had seen one Gnoll merchant who’d been hit by a stray arrow. It was the most merciful battle she had ever seen.
Buleth muttered. The [Traders] were flowing south, around the Bloodfields, already arguing over who to hire to collect their things. They’d need horses to either tow the broken wagons or buy new ones—recalculate their route for a southern trip.
