Doctor Bumper J. Taurus
Doctor Bumper J. Taurus is a slight man with dark skin, greying tight-curled hair and eyebrows, a short mustache, and a scar through his lower lip. His arms and hands bear heavy scarring from decades of engine work, and his left thumb is missing entirely, lost to a broken winch and a dropped engine block. He does not go by any honorary title; the congregation calls him "Doc" or "Doctor," and both are accurate. He is in fact a licensed physician as well as a talented tinker, and he tends to the medical needs of his flock with the same steady hands that once kept rigs running across the wasteland.
He is the founder and head priest of the Cult of the Stingray, the faith that grew up around the pristine 1969 Corvette Stingray Coupe sealed in glass at Bowled Green. When Taurus first discovered that shrine, he understood his calling with a clarity that left no room for doubt. He traveled coast to coast preaching the word of the Stingray, gathering converts through nothing but the power of his oratory. When he returned to Bowled Green with a caravan of over one hundred vehicles, he found five hundred people already gathered and waiting for him.
For over twenty-five years, Taurus has led the Cult unopposed. He does not claim rulership, recognizing that the road gods value freedom above hierarchy. His authority is earned through service: he preaches, he heals, he fixes what is broken, and he asks nothing in return except devotion to the road and what it represents. The congregation grows larger every month, drawn by a faith built not on threats or promises but on the simple example of a man who found something perfect in a ruined world and dedicated his life to honoring it.
He is the founder and head priest of the Cult of the Stingray, the faith that grew up around the pristine 1969 Corvette Stingray Coupe sealed in glass at Bowled Green. When Taurus first discovered that shrine, he understood his calling with a clarity that left no room for doubt. He traveled coast to coast preaching the word of the Stingray, gathering converts through nothing but the power of his oratory. When he returned to Bowled Green with a caravan of over one hundred vehicles, he found five hundred people already gathered and waiting for him.
For over twenty-five years, Taurus has led the Cult unopposed. He does not claim rulership, recognizing that the road gods value freedom above hierarchy. His authority is earned through service: he preaches, he heals, he fixes what is broken, and he asks nothing in return except devotion to the road and what it represents. The congregation grows larger every month, drawn by a faith built not on threats or promises but on the simple example of a man who found something perfect in a ruined world and dedicated his life to honoring it.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Taurus rode alongside his mother as a young man in their merchant rig. She loved the open road and taught him everything about it. When he was old enough, she accumulated money to purchase him his own rig, and he spent at least a decade driving the wasteland, learning every highway and back road the continent had to offer. The road was his education, and the engines he repaired along the way were his craft.
Everything changed when he found the Stingray. Sealed in glass at the location that would become Bowled Green, the pristine 1969 Corvette Stingray Coupe was unlike anything the wasteland had produced. It was perfect, untouched, a relic of a world that had otherwise been completely destroyed. Taurus recognized it as sacred. He left Bowled Green and traveled from coast to coast, preaching to every Diesel Jock and road-weary traveler who would listen. His words carried conviction, and his conviction carried people.
When he returned to Bowled Green with over a hundred vehicles in his caravan, more than five hundred people were already there, drawn by the stories that had outrun him. They chose him as head priest, not because he demanded it, but because no one else could have built what he built. Twenty-five years later, the Cult thrives, the congregation grows, and the Doctor still heals the sick, fixes the rigs, and preaches the word with a scarred hand missing one thumb.
Everything changed when he found the Stingray. Sealed in glass at the location that would become Bowled Green, the pristine 1969 Corvette Stingray Coupe was unlike anything the wasteland had produced. It was perfect, untouched, a relic of a world that had otherwise been completely destroyed. Taurus recognized it as sacred. He left Bowled Green and traveled from coast to coast, preaching to every Diesel Jock and road-weary traveler who would listen. His words carried conviction, and his conviction carried people.
When he returned to Bowled Green with over a hundred vehicles in his caravan, more than five hundred people were already there, drawn by the stories that had outrun him. They chose him as head priest, not because he demanded it, but because no one else could have built what he built. Twenty-five years later, the Cult thrives, the congregation grows, and the Doctor still heals the sick, fixes the rigs, and preaches the word with a scarred hand missing one thumb.
Diesel Jock physician-priest who founded the Cult of the Stingray.
Children
