Taverne et Inn Russethill
Dozer fut témoin de la scène de l'Impact qui se vantait, menaçait les nobles et était escorté par le capitaine de la Garde royale lui-même, le capitaine Ashford. Il gémissait sous son souffle. Il a fait un long chemin en espérant se battre avec lui. Il a fini sa boisson, lâché la tasse sur le sol, et s'est envolé. Espérons que quelqu'un d'autre taverne de la ville ait eu un combat en attente de se produire.
Name: Dozer
Appearance: He has a muscular human body, though the obvious differentiate from humans is that he has the head of a brown bull. He usually wears normal peasant clothes and shin-high boots. Usually he has one or two injuries from time to time to show his "warriorhood", as he calls it, though most of his friends see it as him being reckless. His eyes are white with no pupils, and he has a golden ring of power in his nose.
Personality: He. Can. Fight. He's always getting into tavern brawls with monsters and humans alike, accepting all foes regardless of their size or strength. Even when he's spitting out teeth he seeths with unrelenting determination. Recently, however, he's beginning to doubt himself because of how his violent nature distances him from his friends, though knows his family will always accept him.
He's quick to challenge anybody, and takes almost anything as a challenge.
Bio: Dozer and nobody else in his family have any idea where they came from, whether it was a twisted magical experiment to turn a human into a monster, or if it was a forbidden love between a lonely farmer and a voluptuous cow, or what. What he does know is that he has a lineage to carry on just as his father, grandfather, great grandfather, great great grandfather, great great great great great great great great great great... Well, you get the idea, did as early as they could remember. He became a strong fighter as soon as he was in school, beating up rocks and kids. By the time he was a young adult he was a famous name throughout taverns supporting saturday-night brawling. Everybody loved his fighting spirit and tenacity, though it's slowly becoming his downfall. When he boosted up to bigger opponents, his passion became beatdown after beatdown, with a few single victories giving him determination. But though he never gave up on himself, his friends did. Apothecaries soon tired of having to stitch his bones back together on a daily basis, and people who respected his strength fled once he began losing. He still remains strong, though doubts if he can keep going.
Relations: Almost every tavern in the land knows his name, though only the ones he started out in still acknowledge his existence. However his family supports him all the way.
Skill: He is proficient in hand to hand combat, athletic prowess, and is brimming with a dwindling level of tenacity. Tenacity is a virtue much like determination, though it is entirely focused on combat. It allows him to shrug off physical pain until his body is physically pushed to it's limit, though when it's effects wear off, he'll experience all the pain he would've felt during the fight.
He carries a technique passed through the men of his family for generations; the Bull's charge. He begins running in place to rev up his testosterone, before making a powerful charge straight at his opponent. Unforunately, the Bull's charge is a bit inaccurate, though anything he does ram into will be a critical KO.
Weapon: Nothin' but his fists and his horns
Armour: Armour is for sissies. REAL monsters fight in nothin' but the clothes on their back
Magic: None