Maximus
Fighter, Brass Company Veteran
Maximus
Species
Human
Appearance
Maximus is a huge, broad-shouldered man who seems built from timber, brass, and accumulated refusal. His neck is thick enough to make his collar look decorative, and his arms carry the dense, ropey strength of someone who has hauled barricades rather than merely trained with weapons. His square jaw works constantly, especially when he is thinking. When he eats, he bites through tough meat with blunt, ivory teeth that are unevenly filed from years of cracking ration biscuits, and when he laughs, the sound begins as a suspicious snort before becoming a cannon report. He smells unmistakably of hot metal, black pepper, lamp oil, and the cedar shavings used in the Ark's maintenance bays. He knows this and considers it proof that he is useful. Despite his intimidating bulk and booming presence, he moves with startling quiet when inspecting a sleeping watch or approaching a broken machine.
“A booming baritone with the clipped rhythm of shouted instructions across machinery. He rarely raises his voice because it is already loud enough, but when furious he becomes almost whisper-quiet.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
His lower teeth are broad, blunt, and visibly worn from chewing hard rations and cracked metal seals.
He carries the scent of hot brass, lamp oil, pepper, and cedar shavings wherever he goes.
His left thumb bears a permanent circular indentation from wearing the same heavy brass command ring for thirty-four years.
He laughs like a cannon misfiring, then immediately looks embarrassed if anyone laughs with him.
His movements are unexpectedly quiet for a man of his size, especially when inspecting a night watch.
Voice
“A booming baritone with the clipped rhythm of shouted instructions across machinery. He rarely raises his voice because it is already loud enough, but when furious he becomes almost whisper-quiet. His oaths invoke broken gears, unsecured loads, and whoever signed the last inspection report.”
Clothing
A dark blue Gate Company greatcoat reinforced with overlapping brass plates, a sleeveless work harness beneath it, thick charcoal trousers, steel-capped boots, and a red maintenance scarf tied around one wrist. His uniform is meticulously repaired but never polished enough to look ceremonial.
Body Language
He plants his feet as if bracing against a moving deck, folds his arms only when he wants to appear patient, and leans forward when listening despite his intimidating size. Under stress, he rubs the brass ring on his left thumb until it squeaks against his glove.
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