Roots: Tor The Destroyer
Tor was the pride of his family and his father's only son. He grew up in a home not too dissimilar to that of Ashled in that he was taught to think and speak like a gentleman, but to always be prepared to concave a man's head if it came to violence. Tor never once questioned whether what he was doing was right or wrong. He was a man who had never once done something he regretted and that's all he had to live with. He had always had a strong moral compass and he never bothered to question it. As he travelled the world with the legion he saw many lands with different laws and customs that made him think about his values but never once did he change his opinions on right, wrong, or what was important. He once said to Ashled:
"Laws change, dynasties fall, countries get conquered; nothing to do about laws you can't control, but if another man's laws make you do something you regret, even if that law gets repealed, in your own heart you've become a criminal. I just can't live like that.'' It was obvious this resonated with Ashled as he always sought to live a life where he didn't feel a slave to someone else's laws. He wanted to be the freest man alive, and when he looked at Tor, that's what he saw.
When Tor joined the legion he was disappointed, but in no way surprised with how far the once unbeatable empire had fallen. He made quick work of any legionnaires who sparred with him in practice and often found himself disobeying orders to fall back from a battle that was turning sour. He would gladly die a thousand times holding back the dominion before he would take one step backwards. Fortunately for him, but more so the legion, he alone could often not only hold, but push back the dominion's front line. Once Tor had arrived at the battlefield the fight was only a formality; once that man had arrived the victor had been decided.
As previously stated, Tor wielded a monumental hammer, the head of which bore the sun of Stirk like the axes of Aslan and the hammer of Breela. In addition to the symbol, Tor's hammer, much like the hammer of Breela, was so massive in weight, the head of it being just shy of 70 pounds, that no feasibly sized man could wield it without the use of both hands. Tor, however, was the walking incarnation of an infeasible man. After the first day of training he had the lower three feet of the hammer's four foot handle cut off and a new cap set on the end of his now one handed hammer. The newly imbalanced weapon required herculean strength just to hold upright and Tor swung it as nimbly as if it were of his imagination. Tor danced across the battlefield with little resistance. He leapt from elf to elf, swinging with such efficiency that no one attack hit fewer than 2 elves, and with such great power and speed he often broke open well made armor or even cleaved through whole bodies. With such great power, elves presented little challenge; for Tor, the challenge was finding a man who was worth fighting alongside. After being transferred three times in the first year of the war, Tor finally found himself at home in Ashled's cohort. He had finally found a man who could keep up with him on the battlefield, but more impressively, in conversation. The two almost instantly became brothers and promised to see each other's homes after the war. Tor was so at home on Ashled's cohort he refused promotion after promotion just so that he would not be separated from his dear friend. However, the Thalmor would not let their journey remain pleasant for long. The two would be put to the ultimate test in the upcoming battle of the Red Ring. It was believed Ashled's sword and Tor's hammer were unstoppable forces, but in the coming battle one of these men would suffer a loss greater than they had ever experienced.
Author's Note: I acknowledge this chapter is shorter than usual, but the next chapter is going to be longer than usual so it should balance out.