Colonel Cade "Mammoth" Kirabo, the living specter of the 444th regiment, is a man whose very presence demands respect and fear. Towering even among his battle-hardened Catachans, Kirabo is a giant—his immense size matched only by the shadow he casts on the battlefield. Despite his bulk, he moves with a predator’s grace, vanishing into the dense jungle like a ghost. His soldiers call him "Mammoth" for his towering stature and unstoppable force on the battlefield, a living behemoth that crushes all in his path. Yet, his strength is not just physical; his mastery of ambushes and warfare gives him a lethal edge that makes him truly legendary.
A grim monument to survival, Kirabo's most striking feature isn’t just his hulking physique or the blood-soaked battle axe passed down from his father—it’s his agelessness. The oldest warrior in the regiment, he should be worn down, fatigued by the countless wars he's fought. But Kirabo shows no sign of weakness, no slowing of his step, no softening of his gaze. He fights alongside men decades his junior, and surpasses them in strength, endurance, and sheer ferocity. His body, ravaged by war, refuses to break.
This unyielding vitality comes at a steep price. After barely surviving a catastrophic explosion, Kirabo’s body was shattered, left clinging to life. The regiment's Venom Spitters—masters of toxins and dark biological alchemy—devised a solution. They crafted a life-sustaining device that pumps an ever-changing cocktail of poisons into his bloodstream. These toxins, originally designed to keep him alive long enough to fight another day, became his lifeblood. Over time, his body not only adapted to the venom but thrived on it. The toxins warp him, enhancing his strength and slowing his aging to a crawl, making him more than human—an indomitable force on the battlefield.
Kirabo knows only fragments of the truth behind the device grafted into his flesh. He understands that the poisons sustain him, even as they fill his veins with fire, but he doesn’t fully grasp the extent of the changes. Unknown to him, the device halts the natural decay of his body, making him immune to the passage of time, locking him in a state of eternal readiness for war. The poisons, now symbiotic with his blood, prevent his body from deteriorating like a normal man’s, keeping his edge as sharp as ever.
Even the cigars he smokes, laced with these deadly toxins, have become another ritual—a grim reminder of the venom coursing through his veins. Every puff is a reminder of what he is becoming, a fusion of man and war, bound together by blood and poison. His men see him not just as a leader, but as an unyielding symbol of their regiment’s power, the embodiment of the jungle's unforgiving nature. Kirabo is the heart of the 444th, a legend in flesh, both feared and revered.
