Legatus Legionis and Scribe of the Xth Legion

Thaurus Magnus has walked every age of this land with steel on his back and ash in his memory.

Now in his forty-fourth year, he stands as Legatus Legionis of the Xth Legion beside his brother, Phlar Magnus, Commander of the Xth Legion.
Where Phlar is the voice of command, Thaurus is its weight—unyielding, measured, and ever present. Together they form the twin spine of the Legion, bound by blood, oath, and a history that stretches further back than either fully recalls.

Thaurus has always been of the Legion. Of this, he is certain.
How he came to wear its colors, how the Xth first crossed into this land during earlier iterations of the world, and what was lost along the way—these things lie buried beneath layers of time, rewritten with each turning. Fragments return in dreams: banners in unfamiliar wind, names carved into stone that no longer exists, victories that feel older than memory itself.

In this Tenth Iteration, Thaurus has sworn to unviel the secrets.

A warrior by calling, he favors the bow to strike true from afar and a two-handed great axe when battle closes and mercy has no place. He leads from the front, not with reckless fury, but with disciplined resolve. His presence steadies the ranks; his silence carries authority. To the Legion, he is proof that loyalty can endure even when history does not.

Yet Thaurus is more than a soldier.

He is the scribe of the Xth Legion, keeper of its records, chronicler of deeds, and guardian of what little truth survives between iterations. He searches relentlessly for the Lore of the Ancients, believing that somewhere in the remnants of the Ninth and earlier worlds lies the reason the Legion persists—and why it was chosen to endure when others were unmade.

Between campaigns, Thaurus walks the wilds alone. A hunter by nature, he tracks the greatest beasts of the land, taking only what is earned. Every hide, bone, and sinew is used—worked by his own hands through butchery and leathercraft, reforged into armor, tools, and relics for the Legion. Nothing is wasted. Survival, like war, is a craft.

Thaurus was also among the founders and builders of the main settlement at Merrie–Wiht, raising walls, halls, and roads not as monuments, but as anchors—proof that the Legion belongs to this iteration as surely as it did to those before. Each stone laid is a statement of intent: we will not be erased again.

Despite his certainty of purpose, something within him remains unresolved. When ancient ruins are uncovered or forgotten symbols surface, Thaurus feels a pull he cannot name. There are moments when his hand moves before thought, when he recognizes places he has never seen. He records these moments in cipher, waiting for the day memory returns—or for the truth to reveal itself in another form.

Until then, he holds fast to the only certainty that has never failed him:

“The Xth legion is only as strong as the links in our armor.
I swear my life to my unit, my blood to the banner,
and my soul to the conquest.”

And so Thaurus Magnus stands—hero, hunter, scribe, and soldier—watching the world turn once more, determined that this time,
the Xth Legion will not be forgotten.