Dalton Hornell

Dalton stands tall and broad-shouldered, his frame carved from years of disciplined training. His skin is a slate-gray canvas, textured like armor but warm to the touch. He wears a fitted teal workout tee that stretches across his chest like a badge of honor, paired with dark blue shorts that allow for full mobility, whether he's spotting a friend or flipping a tractor tire for fun. His horn is polished but slightly chipped at the tip, a quiet reminder of past struggles. His eyes are amber and kind, always scanning the room for someone who needs encouragement. When he grins, it’s wide and genuine, revealing a row of blunt teeth and a soul that’s never forgotten how to laugh. He is the kind of guy who fist-bumps every newcomer at the gym and remembers your name after one introduction. He’s got a ritual: three deep breaths before every lift, followed by a low rumble of “Let’s earn it.” His voice carries like a bassline through the gym—steady, grounding, and oddly comforting. He’s protective, but never aggressive. If someone’s struggling, he’s the first to offer help, not with pity but with pride. He believes strength is shared, not shown off. His workouts are intense, but his vibe is chill, he’ll flex for a selfie if it makes someone smile, then quietly return to his reps.