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.
[America Group] – I am a Level 26 [Knight]. Others with me are [Assassin], [Pyromancer], [Beast Tamer], [Tactician], [Fist Fighter], etc…and one [Clown].
In a plaza, a [Fist Fighter] plied his trade. The young woman stopped to watch as he stood in a small ring, lined by nothing but twine. He was bare-chested despite the cool air and his hands were wrapped with leather, making them thicker, rounder. He rang a little bell and called out, attracting attention.
The word ‘gold’ attracted more than a few people over. One of the men, a passing [Farmer], inquired about the prize. The [Fist Fighter], a young man with a twice-broken nose and a boxer’s ears, replied.
The [Farmer] took a few practice swings as the [Fist Fighter] waited. Then he nodded and someone rang the bell. The fight began as the young man tipped over a wooden hourglass.
On the [Farmer] came and his swings were fast and wild. The [Fist Fighter] danced in the area, dodging and weaving, blocking what could be blocked. And when the swings missed he lashed out. His leather-covered fists sent the [Farmer] reeling back. One and two and again. The young man took no hits and the [Farmer] fell down after a minute.
The audience groaned and cheered. Another man scrambled up. He was a tough, a bouncer. He offered five silver to the cheers and entered the ring. The [Fist Fighter] had no time to rest. Nor did he need it. Two minutes later, the bouncer stumbled out of the ring. His companions mocked him, but none of them dared to enter. But they weren’t the only takers by far.
So the boxer beckoned and they came. Mostly men, but a female challenger sometimes came by on the rare day. First the brave or foolish stepped up and were carried out. But then the serious fighters came by. Those who waited for the [Fist Fighter] to tire or thought they knew his game.
A man with steel armor and an enchanted shield and a steel mace strutted forwards. His team stood behind him. They laughed as the [Fist Fighter] sized up his opponent. The crowd jeered and dared the young man to take the fight. The City Runner watched.
The adventurer went red. His team laughed, and the man took his armor off. He was scarred and his muscles bulged. The crowd oohed and went silent. The [Fist Fighter] raised his gloves and went still.
And his punches were quick. The [Fist Fighter] stumbled as the first punch lifted him off his feet. How many pounds lay between the two? The City Runner counted, and saw the next blow take the boxer in the stomach. The young man stumbled and received a punch to the back of the head.
The crowd shouted and moaned as the [Fist Fighter] tried to weave and block. But this time he was outmatched. Twice he went down and twice he rose. The big adventurer knocked him down a third time and there the boxer stayed. Not because of a count. If he’d had the strength he would have risen a dozen more times. The Runner had seen it done.
The young woman approached then. She saw the [Fist Fighter] trying to open a small bottle filled with a weak healing potion. But his hands were clumsy with the gloves. So she took it for him and offered him the bottle.
