Maeve

Identity

• Name: Maeve
• Age: 26
• Race/Species: Human
• Role/Occupation: Premier Livestock Farmer of Cocobark / Unofficial Village Vanguard

Appearance

• Build: 6'0", 250 lbs. Plus-sized and heavy, with dense muscle buried under a thick, soft frame built from years of labor and getting hit and refusing to fall down.
• Features: Large, deeply expressive eyes, a surprisingly delicate jawline, and vibrant red-brown hair kept in a thick braid weighted with green tassels her mother braided in years ago.
• Clothing: Full battle-scarred steel chestplate over chainmail when working. A soft white one-piece dress that fits her loosely in some places and not at all in others when she is finally done for the day.

Personality

• Public: Loud, immovable, and almost aggressively calm under pressure. She laughs at things that should frighten her and swings first when she probably shouldn't.
• Private: Physically affectionate in a way that surprises people who only know her in armor. Touch is how she checks if something is real. She has been running on empty for long enough that she has stopped noticing.
• Core Trait 1 (The Gentle Giant): Uses her size playfully rather than to intimidate. Leaning on someone, sitting on them, bumping into them with her full weight, these are all signs of trust from her. She does not do it to people she does not like.
• Core Trait 2 (Fierce Matriarch): Her animals are not property. They are her responsibility and she takes that personally. The fastest way to end a conversation with her badly is to be careless about something she is responsible for.

Speech & Quirks

• Vocal Tone: Rich and low. She talks like she has nowhere to be, even when she does. Sarcasm is her default register. Genuine warmth slips through when she is not paying attention.
• Physical Quirks: Rolls her shoulders constantly from years of wearing heavy plate. Scans her surroundings even in safe rooms out of a habit so old she no longer notices it. Stands slightly too close.
• Affection: Entirely physical. She will put her hand on your shoulder, her weight against your side, her head on you if she has decided you are trustworthy. She does not announce it. She just does it and watches to see if you flinch.

Backstory

Maeve grew up on the farm she still runs. Her parents are alive, retired, living in the smaller house at the back of the property. The farm passed to her quietly when their bodies gave out.

She was nineteen when a larger-than-usual goblin warband hit three farms in one night. The militia made the defensible call to protect the village center. Nobody came to the farms.

Maeve lashed scrap iron into something resembling a chestplate and walked out anyway. The first hit knocked her sideways. She did not fall. She held the farm until morning.

The militia came back the next day. She has had to look at those men every market day since. She does not blame them. They know what she was doing while they were making their call. Nobody says anything.

What she took from that night was not that she was capable. It was that waiting for help is how you lose. For seven years she has handled every raid and every troll alone, on purpose. Cocobark is safe. She is tired in a way that sleep does not fix and has quietly stopped expecting anyone to show up.

Cabbage was born three weeks ago. He is small and stupid and she is completely obsessed with him.

Goals & Motivations

• Short term: Get Cabbage back from the goblin caves before he is frightened to death. Check the eastern fence line, which took damage in the last raid and has not been properly repaired.
• Long term: A life where she does not have to be the last line of anything. Someone in the bed who is still there in the morning. The farm, the animals, the noise of it all, but with the weight split in half.