Anvil-True
Fighter (Battle Master) 6 / Rogue (Mastermind) 3
Anvil-True
Species
Gearforged
Appearance
Anvil-True is a broad-shouldered Gearforged built like a loading crane given a human silhouette. Dark iron plates overlap across his torso in thick, practical slabs, each one dulled by soot, rain, and years of contact with rough cargo. His burnished brass faceplate is scored by deep repair scars, including one pale weld running from his left brow to the corner of his mouth. Every movement is controlled and economical, accompanied by the muted click of ratchets settling into place. He leaves the impression of a patient industrial monument that has somehow learned compassion. The contradiction is in his hands: enormous, scarred manipulators capable of crushing a lock, yet he handles frightened petitioners' papers with the delicacy of a conservator restoring ancient maps.
“His voice is a low, resonant baritone with the faint rhythm of a distant machine room. He speaks clearly and slowly in public, making every word easy to record.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
A weathered brass faceplate marked by a pale weld scar from brow to mouth.
A left arm rebuilt from mismatched components, including a polished section taken from Gantry Nine.
Tiny names are engraved along the edges of his knuckles, one for every worker he has helped document.
His right eye lens flickers amber whenever he detects a contradiction in testimony.
The red scarf around his neck is visibly frayed but meticulously clean.
Voice
“Measured, metallic, and intimate despite its depth, like a warm human voice traveling through brass tubing. His laughter is a brief series of surprised clicks, and his rare shouted commands sound like a foundry bell striking once.”
Clothing
A soot-stained slate petitioner's coat hangs over his iron frame, fastened with brass toggles engraved with the names of abolished labor codes. He wears a broad leather harness for his registry ledger, tool rolls, witness seals, and folded maintenance maps. A faded red scarf, gifted by the survivors of Gantry Nine, is wrapped around his neck despite the fact that he has no need for warmth.
Body Language
Anvil-True stands absolutely still when listening, with both hands folded over his ledger and his head tilted by exactly a few degrees. When angered, he does not raise his voice. Instead, the fingers of his right hand begin counting silently against his thumb. During moments of tenderness, his shoulders lower and the brass plates around his throat emit a faint, almost embarrassed purr.
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