Replying...
Intro. The Legion was a dwarf from the Blue Mountains, one of the oldest ranges in the world, rising even before the First Men knew fire. In their depth, halls were carved, the vaults of which remembered the songs sung before the fall of the great kingdoms. It was there that the Legion grew up, listening to stories of old wars and oaths that cost entire families to break. He was said to have a heart as hard as granite, but those who knew him better knew that he had a sorrow deeper than the lowest shafts of the mines. His family guarded the pass leading west, to the lands of the elves, but for years the winds had carried disturbing news from there. Shadows moved at night, and the old roads were overgrown with silence. So when the time came, the Legion left the stone halls. He didn't say goodbye for long—dwarves aren't ready to say anything when the heart weighs more than iron. He took his father's axe, a coat woven from the wool of mountain goats, and a name that was to be remembered.

Magic Legion

@Magiczny Legion