DagmarNICKNAMES (IF ANY):
Dag or Dags from childhood and used more around peers then and now if you know her wellDATE OF BIRTH AND AGE (AS OF T.A. 2941):
84 born 2857PLACE OF BIRTH:
femaleHAIR COLOUR AND APPEARANCE:
blonde hair usually just left to mostly blow free in either mine shaft or open air, though she does have two braided ends forming a half pony tail and silver clip holding it, which has a jeweled flower design to it. Sometimes in second favorite hair style she wears two full pig-tail braids looped. She's settled on this as her fancy affair look (despite what her mother thinks) but utilizes it elsewhere too.EYE COLOUR:
Green.BODY TYPE AND HEIGHT:
Of average build for a dwarf and just the wee smallest bit short for her age, though not incredibly so or anything.OVERALL APPEARANCE:
Dagmar's dress, both literally and in terms of style, can be considered a tad sunny for a dwarf, though plain by human standards. Bright blues and yellows are woven tastefully, still, within her favorite frock. She doesn't quite look ready to skip through a meadow, yet her artistic qualities come through in that she takes great pride in accessorizing properly even the color of any jewels in her clips with her entire outfit.DISTINGUISHING MARKS:
Stains of all sorts of dye from plants or whatever she's made her paints of can often by found on her fingers and traces even after she tries to wash them off, from constant application. Also she does have a scar of a deep cut along the jaw on her right side from hitting it hard upon a rock one day when climbing for materials. It follows along her jaw line, though, so not too noticeable.WEAPONS:
While she may seem dainty with all this accessorizing and paint mixing, Dagmar is still a dwarf and a stubborn defensive one in keeping with her heritage. She is a fair hand shooting a bow or sling shot and ok with a sword, but her skill is knife throwing and she always has a small dagger or two with her to use if needed. Decorative handled knives. Oh yes, and of course they match too!FACE CLAIM:
Loyal to the stubborn end of dwarves; Good Temperament and doesn't get too flustered at things though, again, by dwarf standards, annoyance still sets in quicker than it would with other races perhaps. Friendly and Kind. Understands animals just a tad bit better than her peers.WEAKNESSES:
Like most dwarves, grudge holder once you've worked to getting on her bad side, yet the extra mile needed only makes the grudge hold extra long. Naive. A bit pulled into frivolities of women though she doesn't flock to parties. Still, especially with her own "work" she takes easily offended pride in it. Doesn't take criticism well.ASPIRATIONS:
Just to always be able to find something fun to do. No boring things. And she would like to see this Erebor her own father also talks of, even if he was just another of the dwarves under Thrain's command at the time. She aims to help however she can and for as long as her attention will stay on that before some other artwork idea hits her.FEARS:
Dragons (she's heard horrid stories) Also Orcs, though she would quickly point out she's not cowardly around them, as that's unbecoming of a dwarf just...well they're ugly and all.PERSONALITY:
Cheerful, and a willing enough aid in anything one may need of her, Dagmar is also a bit flighty and prone to day dream or forget just what she was doing for you if an idea hits her. Her great love and joy is creating, as it is for all dwarves, yet her venue comes through in paints. She paints items and all of her toys as a child are now splotched with all hues of color from paints made herself. Really if it weren't for flowers making such great paint material when crushed, Dagmar may be as inclined as any to stay indoors of the mine where a dwarf belongs, and while she loves rock as well as any she can't help always seeing it colorized and feeling like doing it herself. She is obsessed with color specifically for it's own sake. Still, if she really likes one you'll have as much trouble to get it from her as you would with any dwarf. This greed spans to her art and paints too. Imaginative to the end of being useless if she doesn't control it at all, but she's been learning to control it.HISTORY:
Born the only daughter to Liv and Anlaf, warrior of Ered Luin and very loyal to their king Thorin's service, Dagmar was smushed in the middle of a mess of boys and yet very beloved. In fact, as the only girl, she seemed to hold all the promise her mother had for raising a socialite who would do their clan and whole of dwarven kingdom proud by such small things as learning the graceful art of party attending and proper respect to royals as well as all others of all standings. Dagmar bore this considerably well, and while not all out trying to avoid functions or lessons, more just dazed off during them; especially in her young years when sitting still was only possible if her hands were occupied with her love of splashing color upon things, for truthfully this was what happened as a dwarfling, Dagmar just throwing paint from a brush to her toys and anything that fell into her hands, including at times her brother's toys or old toys.
It was both wondered at, and yet, as her father said, dwarves create and sometimes perhaps without hammers. Still, sculpting skills her mother could have tried to understand better. She loved Dagmar, though, and encouraged all she could despite not understanding and as the child got on well enough with her peers, she figured maybe social stuff would ingrain itself.
It became apparent Dagmar would only respond so far to any pressure, also, and so by now her mother has resigned herself to the role of most; unable to control their child's life so they just constantly give suggestion they hope will be taken. Dagmar, loving of her parents as well, of course, puts up with this well enough...or just tunes it out by imagining her mother's dress differently colored and holding in the thought.
She at times drags herself to functions to try and please, yet has been known to leave early more than a few times, besides what standing does her family really have that any would notice? Though she of course grew up in the princes general peer group, or nearer Kili, any form of royalty give her a terrible tongue-tie from them to now so she's not even sure if peer is a proper terms as she just recalls bowing and sometimes spilling paint on them or their guardians.
She holds all the respect she should towards them, though, and especially now to hear that they go to reclaim Erebor her father spoke so highly of. She can only hope, along with all others, that they succeed.YOUR NAME:
We've been over itCOUNTRY:
US of AEXPERIENCE:
Bilbo, Gard, NyxCONTACT:
What's the best way for us to reach you? PM or e-mailHOW DID YOU FIND US?:
AdROLE PLAY/WRITING SAMPLE:
(I grab Bilbo's)
This was insanity. Pure and simple insanity, Bilbo told himself. What did he think he was doing even picking up the sheet of paper that he had found laying on his table amidst an empty house? Had last night not been enough? Did he want to see what these dwarves could do to him when they got him outside of his home?
Oh, that's right he knew what they'd do to him, one of the lot last night had so kindly and neatly laid it out as it already stood in ink. Death. Funeral Arrangements. Incineration. Puff of Smoke. Blinding Pain...
Bilbo promptly dropped the paper once more before he began to feel faint again and turned. Yes, no thank you, best see if all the dishes had in fact been properly cleaned. One never knew with dwarves cleaning skills. Their eating skills had been horrid enough to watch.
Bilbo picked up a plate and began scanning it...hmm, they hadn't done to bad, surprisingly enough. The hobbit had just set it down and looked to the rest of them. Every dish from out of his cupboards seemed here, since of the 14 most had used more than one dish each!
Since when did your mother's dishes become so important..., Gandalf's words returned.
Was this really all he wished life to hold. Dishes and watching after dishes and a house?
Yes, he owed it to his father.
Memories came back, memories of his father yet this time as he stood at the door facing a young hobbit in dirty trousers who claimed he had been seeking out elves. Claimed he'd seen them even!
He still wasn't sure if he ever had but...they were in the wide world even more so than the forests of the Shire...maybe.
The dwarves' song of last night came back, and the Tookish part of Bilbo stirred at the images it brought.
He...he had always wanted to see the world...then
And he still did.
Quickly, while the Tookish part of him outweighed the Baggins and before he lost the dwarves, Bilbo snatched up the paper, grabbed a quill and in the most hasty penmanship he had ever scrawled since becoming respectable, scrawled his name and bolted out the door and down the garden path, hoping he wasn't too late!