"Know yourself and your enemy and you need not fear even a hundred battles; long ago, a man sat on me and said such words."
Heavy and slow-looking, awkward and shambling, head low and rocking back and forth as he walks, occasionally using all four limbs to move over and through rough and enclosed terrain, he never hurries.
Until crisis strikes.
Despite the bulk and proportions, he has excellent proprioception. If anyone observes him, he is able to move through most situations without bumping or leaving marks of his passage.
His body in covered in scars, both those earned in battle and those inflicted in battle. His back is a series of huge plates, sliding over equally siliceous under-stratum.
No visible ears, a huge slab of a lower jaw, eyes set slightly further back than many combative species. Unlike Philgar, he does eat (because Philgar beat me to using the idea, haha) and often is, small chips of nutritious metamorphic compounds helping his slow but powerful metabolism tick over.
When he sleeps, he practically disappears, blending into whatever surface or nook he's tucked himself into.
Slow, considered, kind, loyal, a lover of experience and beauty.
Quick, decisive, determined, merciful, high expectations of bravery and steadfastness amongst those with whom he fights.
He admires great warriors, whether they stand with him, or against him. He prefers fighting on a field of battle, where enemies can be marked and sought, but won't baulk at fighting ship-to-ship.
He has never killed a non-combatant (who can say who is innocent or not) but is certain that he has caused their deaths. He has ordered his own soldiers to march into suicidal positions for the advantage of the rest. He knows this is unavoidable, but carries every one of those so ordered on his skin.
The People's first records are of combat, lauding the winners and losers of ritual single combat, small group combat and ritual war. Although they occasionally fought true war, many societal pressures are relieved by formal, informal and ritual combats. If you knew where Egg was, and were able to visit, you would early during your visit see two of The People resolving a conflict, calling for seconds and a mediator and 'fighting', politely out of the way of passers-by but basically on the street.
The People no longer practice ritual war as it is not difficult for The People to go out into the Abyss and find combat amongst other species. Many of the young of The People, carrying the bare minimum have themselves dropped by ship somewhere, maybe a space deliberately unknown to the new traveller, or deliberately near a war zone; and they see what they can see.
The Scent of Rain on the Field After Battle did this, fighting with the defenders of a small world many light years away. He and his shield brothers, others of The People who ended up in the same place, fought for over twenty of that world's solar rotations before they finally were defeated.
The only survivor, The Scent of Rain on the Field After Battle, was launched at sub-light speeds towards, fortunately, the N'k'th Hegemony and eventually, fighting more years along the way, found his way to one of The People's pick-ups and thirty years later, was collected by a long-haul Egg-ship.
His history of war is respected, but not grand. He has no great victories in real combat, although in ritual combat he has blooded a Master or two, and he has not died in great combat either.