Name: Franz Zuto<br/>Location: Fueno Pub<br/>Time: Evening<br/>Tagging: Open<br/><br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>"ANOTHER BEER!"</strong></span>Something about the man at the bar ordering his fifth beer seems quite uninviting. Perhaps its his large build - over seven foot tall, built as if his muscles were replaced by large rocks, he does seem quite intimidating. His pale, lightly-scarred features, cold grey eyes, and angry-looking face couldn't be helping either. Perhaps its his dirty clothes - his thick brown mining shirt and pants, his heavy boots, and his helm - that seems to be discouraging. His loud, rough voice that only seems to call out for more alcohol is far from friendly.<br/><br/>Or maybe its his huge, nasty-looking pickaxe outside, deeply embedded in the huge boulder that wasn't there before. By the looks of the rubble around it, this wasn't his first attempt or first rock to try to stick his pickaxe in.<br/><br/>Either way, the huge man was about to work on his fifth beer, seemingly ignoring everything going on around him. He doesn't seem to have any need for the celebrations going on, or the mindless chatter that was taking place.