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Author Topic: [Hobbit] Eskr  (Read 3796 times)


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« on: January 30, 2015, 03:07:00 PM »


NAME: Eskr
NICKNAMES (IF ANY): For the most part, none. He gets ‘inker’ and ‘skinscribe’ and job-related things like that a fair bit. Oh, and ‘coward’, though he minds that one.
DATE OF BIRTH AND AGE (AS OF T.A. 2941): 146, born 17th August 2796.
RACE: Dwarf

HAIR COLOUR AND APPEARANCE: Dark brown hair getting streaked with grey, usually tied in a ponytail or bun to keep in out of the way. It’d hang to below the middle of his back if it was loose. His beard is the same colour, tinted silver at the chin and always braided back along his jawline and meeting behind his head. It’s not particularly thick but it would reach to mid-chest if he ever left it loose.

EYE COLOUR: A light grey when the light catches them, though they can be taken for blue or brown when shadowed.

BODY TYPE AND HEIGHT: 4’5, short enough, and stocky even for one of his race. He’s barrel-chested and almost immoveable when he wants to be. A rock, not a runner, relying on sheer strength and solidity rather than speed.

OVERALL APPEARANCE: He generally takes care to look fairly presentable and doesn’t really care for outdoor pursuits, so he’s almost never found in overly scruffy or practical clothes, and he doesn’t own any armour. That said, much of his work clothing has small ink stains marking it and he’s too fond of comfort to eschew it, so he doesn’t dress too formal either. He’s more partial to patterns than colour, as he finds it very hard to figure out if things clash. He will incorporate the odd splash of electric blue when he can find it – cloth as bright as his favourite shade is rare. Oh, and he never covers his forearms if he can help it. They’re intricately tattooed and serve as something between an advertisement and a display of what he cares for. For the same reason, he wears no rings or bracelets.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: His ears contain matching piercings – cylinders curving around the shell. And yeah, he has just a few tattoos. They dart and interlock over his forearms, hands, face and neck most obviously, but they extend up to his shoulders and down his back and chest as well, plus a few more scattered ones over his feet and ankles. They’re quite blocky and angular, geometric patterns and knotwork that sometimes bleed into the abstract forms of animals (his family have traditionally taken rams as their symbol, though his are less rounded) and cirth, shaped to the canvas of his skin. The thick bands around his wrists and some of the work on his back is noticeably simpler, warrior’s symbols that don’t match his current lifestyle. Some are more faded than others – every few years he’ll get a different set touched up or added to.

 WEAPONS: For the most part, his inked fists. He owns a pair of knuckle dusters but hasn’t dug them out in years. Some with low pain tolerance might count the tools he uses to ink skin. Nothing else – Eskr prefers to avoid violence wherever possible, these days.

FACE CLAIM: Liev Schreiber

STRENGTHS: Eskr is extremely focused, when he has to be, and learns quickly. He can absorb and predict patterns fairly fast, provided they remain consistent. This is aided by his being a very good listener. He is physically almost immoveable when he sets his mind to it but mentally he is surprisingly good at adapting, getting around his shortcomings even though he dislikes admitting them. He is fairly calm and quick to return to this state of emotional equilibrium when upset, which makes him very steady and dependable. He is good at avoiding conflict, although it is debatable whether he’s a peacemaker or simply a fight-avoider, and he tends to slip beneath notice despite his broad frame, which can definitely be a plus considering his introverted nature. Eskr is also physically strong, although he isn’t as strong as he thinks he is – similarly, he was once very good at barehanded fist fighting and some remnant of these skills remains.

WEAKNESSES: Although Eskr can adapt to the unexpected, he never expects it thanks to relying too heavily on his learned patterns. This makes him a little narrow-minded, unwilling to see what doesn’t come logically to him. He is easily contented when it comes to things other than art – this gives him a tendency to be a bit of a doormat, accepting things and taking blows that others would likely protest. This causes many to call him a coward, though in truth he just rarely sees the point of fighting. He often pushes the limits of exhaustion in order to finish a project. As mentioned before, he trusts too much in fighting abilities that have worn away – he thinks that if he had to fight he’d do alright, whereas in reality it would take a fair bit of work to get back into the swing of it. Also, Eskr is colourblind – he cannot tell the difference between red and green and sees the world primarily in murky shades of yellow and blue. This doesn’t affect him all that much but he sometimes finds it hard to read some emotional cues, such as flushing with anger or embarrassment.

ASPIRATIONS: To continue working until  he can’t do so any longer. Eskr wants to be useful, to do worthwhile things rather than wasting time, and he dreads the day when this will no longer be possible. Some part of him that he’s in the habit of ignoring would quite like to prove that he’s no coward.

FEARS: Eskr fears quite a lot, really – he hates the thought of losing any of his senses (having one that’s already a little dodgy is frustrating enough) or being unable to work for any other reason. He fears violence, dying without warning, the sheer size of the world outside his boundaries, and sometimes he fears that he is too formulaic, that he doesn’t so much create things as mix around the work of others.

PERSONALITY: Eskr is above all steady and balanced, returning easily and constantly to a state of calm. Most disturbances seem to disappear quickly beneath a thick layer of almost apathetic acceptance. He is easily pleased when it comes to most areas of life, not really caring enough to demand quality. This contributes to the talk that he is a coward, and it doesn’t help that when his once-quick temper resurfaces and he gets riled up, he quickly calms down and gives in again. It’s not that he’s scared of fights so much as he simply cannot be bothered. Only in relation to work does he have the capacity to be finicky and particular – then he is a perfectionist who refuses to let anything go until he’s entirely satisfied. Some have accused him of being married to his job. A fair assessment, really, since he prefers silence in which to work in place of people for company.

 This is one of the many areas in which long necessity has forced him to adapt – the very first was that he was not originally very good at adapting, but he had to learn. Long hours of inking skin have given him an ease with small talk and interaction that have mostly overcome the awkwardness provided by his natural longing for silence. That said, he still has his moments (particularly halfway through some project that involves paper, not skin) of hating all noise. Eskr was also born with a fierce desire for independence, like many dwarves, but it has been worn away over the years – colour blindness played a part; he would much rather ask whether cloth is blue or purple, whether an apple is ripe or not, than to later be embarrassed by not knowing these things – and he now finds it easy enough to ask for and accept help regarding anything but work. He also offers it freely when he can, desiring to be useful above all else.

 Eskr never wanted to travel but he has ended up doing it on a fairly regular basis, all things considered. This has given the skinscribe a far wider knowledge of Middle Earth in general than he ever wanted. He started out with a temper, but after certain events he has been tempered and has learned to look at things more logically, weigh the long-term consequences versus the short-term satisfaction. They are nearly always found wanting and thus he avoids conflict for the most part.

 Eskr forms acquaintances easily but doesn’t have too many true close friends. Those who do get past his thick shield of indifference find him loyal and helpful, surprisingly quick to laugh and not entirely without wit. He is far more likely to stand up for others than himself. Although he likes spending time in solitude, he still sometimes struggles with loneliness and will make serious attempts to keep up friendships rather than let them fade, as it would be so easy to do with his shifts between settlements.

 HISTORY: Eskr was born to artists and raised by only one of them. Ekri never talked about the woman who had borne his son. He wrote of her, sometimes, cloaking her memory in ink to contrast with the snow that had stolen her from the world, hiding away the pages. She had loved to wander the mountainsides looking for inspiration – unlike her husband, she was fond of cut jewels and enamel rather than ink on paper, landscapes in place of letters. She loved her explorations more than was considered proper for a dwarven woman, and as it turned out, more than was wise. She took no heed of warnings and paid the price for it on a night thick with fast-falling hail, when Eskr was no more than ten. Speaking ill of the dead was frowned upon, but in mutters and whispers neighbours and strangers alike claimed that she hadn’t wanted her family, or had gone mad with the overdose of outside air, or both.

 The dwarfling grew up swearing that he’d follow neither parent – he would find a profession more exciting than his father’s and remain firmly grounded in practical reality and in the Iron Hills, unlike his mother. It was figured out pretty early that he found it next to impossible to tell the difference between red and green, but this didn’t really affect his life aside from tainting his perspective of the murals that formed his mother’s legacy.

 He was a quiet child, obedient for the most part, but he got into more than his fair share of scuffles. Firstly because some of the children of soldiers (who formed a large proportion of the group he interacted with) took it into their heads to be scornful and insulting about his family, reasoning that having a father who only wrote prettily and hadn’t managed to keep his wife from losing herself should embarrass him, not to mention the said spectre of a mother he had never known, who had surely passed down her madness. Eskr was adamant that Ekri was no coward for valuing the pen above the sword, and he certainly wasn’t one simply because he’d been born to him. The criticism about his mother was harder to answer – in part he simply didn’t know what she had been like – but he reasoned that proving himself firmly tied to reality would do. It didn’t exactly help to keep the peace that he liked winning and he learned the pattern of attack and defend quickly and easily.

 This led into the profession he was sure he had found for himself – becoming a warrior was no small thing in the Iron Hills and considering his middle-class birth he might have made it to a decent rank. This was his intention, and as he grew (a lot), he trained (a little). He tried out various weapons but they were harder to learn than fists, designed less for defeat and more for kill, the thought of which didn’t particularly appeal. He focused as much as he could on barehand sparring when he visited the training yards. There was a point at which he was decent with an axe but those patterns didn’t stick in his head quite so well due to the lack of interest, and faded later without practice.

 Two years before he was to join the ranks at fifty, and to his complete and utter chagrin, his father decided to visit the Blue Mountains. Seeing as the journey was planned to be no more than a year long and Ekri was fairly insistent that he come along and at least learn the basics of the family trade before he went into the military (it was one of the few times in his life that his father had been insistent) Eskr went with. He regretted it. The young dwarf wasn’t happy to realise just how terrifyingly huge the world was and how little he could predict of what would happen on the open road, to have his certain future delayed. Other dwarf settlements were slightly different to the one he had grown up in, their manner of doing things subtly off. He frankly didn’t like being uprooted and expected to learn everything new so quickly. He started absorbing the business of scribing purely for the sake of something familiar to do, a constant that was more or less the same no matter where they went, and tried to ignore that he actually liked doing it. This wasn’t the destiny he had chosen.

 The journey went slower than expected, with frequent stops that lasted longer than Eskr would’ve liked. His father was no longer as young as he had been, however, and would not be hurried. He didn’t want to abandon him – going their separate ways alone was daunting compared to going just a little further in the wrong direction before hopefully turning around. They reached Ered Luin as the young dwarf reached the age he had been supposed to don armour. It was suggested that he become part of their military instead but Eskr had his heart set on the Iron Hills, though he visited training yards to spar empty-handed once more. He filled out what had always seemed destined to be a broad and sturdy frame, gaining muscle and technique and spending less time with the ink and paper that the journey had taught him to appreciate. And soon enough he found another way to pass the time. One that earned him a tidy profit. Useful, seeing as his father no longer seemed like he was intending to make a return journey and the would-be soldier realised that he’d have to make his way to the Iron Hills on his own, if he ever wanted to return. The thought no longer scared the independent young dwarf – the taste of fighting had renewed his desire to get back to the training yards that he belonged in, and he no longer had to worry about his father travelling alone now that he was fairly settled.

 Staying in so many inns and temporary dwellings had opened Eskr’s eyes to a different world – travellers and locals, mercenaries and scoundrels would stage fights in the yards and bet on the outcomes. It was messy and at times brutal, but almost never fatal, and always profitable. He heard it said that there was more to be had in Bree and so, intending to save up and finally get back to the life he had planned, to Bree he went at the age of 53.

 Eskr lost as much as he won, at first. But few of these prizefighters – most of whom were of the race of Men – had ever taken on someone of his compact and almost immoveable build, and while they were more unpredictable to him than other dwarves had ever been, soon enough he started winning a lot more. Strange the world of Men might be, but he liked the chance to prove his strength against those who once again underestimated him. It was in these years that ink began to feature on his skin – the older tattoos that adorn his wrists and back are noticeably different from the others in that they are the marks of a fighter, symbols of strength and bravery that are less intricate than those that followed in future years. He was interested in the process at the time and while he had a say in the designs – the inhabitants of Bree knew him as a part-time mostly-trained scribe, as well as a fistfighter – they are the only ones he didn’t plan out entirely by himself.

 As a naturally sedentary creature who had found a rather enjoyable position in life, Eskr stayed longer than he had originally intended, months stretching into years. There were several other dwarves who fought for money, and they naturally gravitated together as strangers in a strange land. They also ended up fighting each other when there were no other challenges, harbouring no ill will whether they won or lost. It was one of these fights that nearly ended Eskr’s life and brought this chapter of his life to a close at the age of 60 – he lost, fairly, to one of the other dwarves. Some of the disappointed punters got it into their heads that the fight had been staged (in hindsight, Eskr realised he probably shouldn’t have betted on his friend, but he was well aware that the other dwarf was a better fighter and it seemed like a good idea at the time) and both dwarves were attacked. The other lost his life on the edge of a rusty knife and Eskr almost went the same way – there’s still an ugly scar across his stomach. The broken bones no longer show, though they ache in particularly bad weather. This event turned him off prizefighting for life, though he still thinks he could throw a good punch if he wanted to.

 Eskr had saved enough to see him through recovery and then some. He spent this period of forced inactivity doing some serious soul-searching, realising that he was never going to take to weapons like he took to fists and that he was no longer fond of the idea of hurting people for a living, frankly. It would only end in a violent death – honourable, maybe, if he managed to die in battle rather than by getting stabbed in the dark – or the general accumulation of injuries until he was useless. Disillusioned, disheartened and rudderless, he limped around Ered Luin looking for something else to pour his life into and not really expecting to find anything.

 But he did. First the tattoos he had nudged him towards a workshop to see if there was any way he could change them into something a little more fitting (the answer was basically no, not without making them insanely messy, and Eskr found ironic designs better than ugly ones) and gradually got interested in the profession. Eskr liked the idea of inking skin, liked the dance of weighted lines moulded to a unique canvas. He designed a few more himself, adding them to his collection. He had learned some of the basics of tattooing when going under the needle himself but now he trained properly, supplementing his progress with the knowledge of design that he had already gained from scribing, which he also took up again to finish training in. He finished his apprenticeship in nine years, and only then did he return to the Iron Hills.

 Of course, the dwarflings he had once play-fought had grown to be soldiers themselves by 2864 while he had opted for a considerably more peaceful path. It was they who started to say that he was a coward and while it doesn’t bother him too much, as he is downright happy with his profession, it still puts his back up. He is fanatical about both scribe-work and skin-inking, often putting ridiculous hours into finishing a project – though he avoids working if he thinks he has a chance of making mistakes.

 Every so often he makes the tedious journey across Rhovanion and Eriador to or from Ered Luin, living in each settlement for about ten to fifteen years before switching back. The Iron Hills are his home but he likes the way that there’s less gossip about him in the Blue Mountains. The people are easier to deal with and his father’s grave is there. Ekri died in 2925, prompting one of the journeys back. He’s not overly fond of travelling (he mostly spends it inside a wagon, sketching and ignoring the wide world passing by) but he likes both settlements and found that shuttling back and forth brought him more business, as his clients would generally wait a few years for him so that they’d have one consistent artist working on their skin. In 2941 he has been back in his home settlement for two years and has no plans to go anywhere for the foreseeable future.
    Iron Hills: 2796-2844, 2864-2881, 2891-2905, 2920-2925, 2939-present
    Blue Mountains: 2846-2864, 2881-2890, 2905-2919, 2925-2939[/li]
YOUR NAME: Bluuuuuuuuue.
COUNTRY: Of saints and scholars, forty shades of green, etc.
EXPERIENCE: Of this site, I’ve had a pretty excellent one.
OTHER CHARACTERS: Aurhîn, Bofur, Rian, Kophas. (It has been well over a year since my last character creation. Woah.)
CONTACT: The subspace frequencies. Or PM. Skype on request.
*Shifty eyes*

« Last Edit: March 30, 2016, 02:31:47 PM by Mandos »



  • Dwarves
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« Reply #1 on: February 22, 2015, 01:43:00 AM »
Sorry for the slowness - he's finally done! I think.



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« Reply #2 on: February 22, 2015, 02:59:00 PM »
Oh Blue, Eskr's absolutely wonderful!  You've put so much thought into his application - I can't wait to see him in action! ~

Fíli | Kvasir | Andar | Ivorak | Haleth | Loire | Faramir


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