-It's a Miotaur. And he has a big old axe.. or maybe it's a staff? Oh! He has gwasses!-


Borj was a simple minotaur, working for blood thirsty warlord after shady cultist and desperate merchant. The hulking bullman found his most lucrative job as the muscle for a neurotic mage. The withering old wizard wizard gave Borj a simple job; The buss was to protect a strange glowing gem the wrinkled fool kept on a pedestal. Borj enjoyed five years of a relaxed, peaceful existence in that hidden tower, not a threat in sight outside of the rare emergency when the wizards's experiments would go wrong. The minotaur was given the outet to enjoy his base pleasures regularly, compliments of the mage's wealth and summoning magics. The hairy beast grew too complacent, his guard dropped when danger finally came.

"Wally" had been banished from the Conclave decades ago after the many scandals of his career came to light. Walantrick's family name became a red mark, every Academy and Kingdom of the realm knowing of his vile experimentations. Cursing his crumbling life's works, the mage exiled himself toa distant land, conjuring a tower in the middle of nowhere and dedicating the last of his wealth towards one final project. He bought the cheap labor of a few savages, guarding himself with paranoid fervor as he woked day and night with the little time he had left.

The Adventurers who came to the wizard's front door had come in error, their adept botching the teleportation coordinates. The would-be-heroes found little resistance, slaying the reptillian and goblinoids who guarded the floors of the makeshift spire. Upon finding the source of great power, radiating from the tower, the party was ambushed then by the guard captain. The massive bull slew the young warriors, but the creature had been out of practice, his moves clumsy as the minotaur knocks that pedestal during the fray.

Wally awoke in the rubble of his former home, most alarmingly finding his own frail body broken among the crumbled stone. His balance was shakey, the old wizard feeling far too stretched out and  dizzy from the sensation of being far to high up. The man's mind felt rejuvenated, that old man feeling the old familiar hungers of his prime, only somehow much more intense. The octogenarian would push down the rush of adrenaline coursing through this new body, pressing those large, black nailed fingers to the gemstone bored into his forehead, gingerly touching the sweeping black hornsbefore he'd wander out into the world on unsteady hooves.


(I don't know why I wrote all that and no description. >.> WIP)