#dwarf ocs

[thecanadiancryptidnumbah2]

See him?. Hart the dwarf man?. Ok now I will Hurt Him. @rayyanishere1 @greenbunny7 @chaseerr0rcode @sharkiewyu etc etc LOOK AT MY OCS GRGRGRGR

Lore under cut

Hart has literally never experienced unconditional love before besides when he was still close with his mother. He has known nothing but rejection disappointment and threats of abandonment from his father.

His father loved him but that love required him to do various tasks in order for him to maintain it. He had to stick to the plan for him to love him and if he strayed from the path,then he would be very disappointed in him and stop talking to him for days.

Every time he made a mistake he would either get yelled at or callously ignored even if he needs something/needs to be comforted. All of his physical needs were met (food water shelter material possessions),but he wasn't allowed to be open about his feelings.

Because he was taught that his emotions were weak and that they would only hold him back. So he never talked about them. He wasn't allowed to form his own opinions either because since he's a young man,only his father knows what's best for him.

Every time he strayed from the path and tried to act like himself,his father coldly dismissed his interests as "juvenile" or "unfit for the future company heir".

Which led to him feeling ashamed of his true identity,thus he repressed every facet of himself just to please him. He has never felt loved or truly wanted unless he behaved and did exactly what his father said.

[valiantvillain]

Yet again I intend on romancing a charming monster hunter with an adorable dwarf...only this time she's a massive nerd instead of a suave charlatan.

[wolf--rot]

My funny drg OCs

[ironfoot-mothafocka]

#KhazadWeek Day 2: Firebeards

Sometimes, news travels slow and keeping track of the history of seven kingdoms is difficult. More Zâda and Igdi.

--

It was that unique experience which marked out the zulmâ-khazâd from her own kind, Zâda thought. Long ago, her own kingdom and that of the other Eastern Dwarves had been ravaged by dragonfire and other dark forces. The Red Mountains had barely withstood those attacks, but it had held together — fast and stable, rooted indomitably to the earth. Over the span of centuries, the dwarves there had manifested complete control over the mountain passes and the land surrounding its base, and though shadows were growing in the East, they had always traded with the Easterlings who encamped nearby, moving with the seasons, or with the few permanent cities.

But to have your homeland completely erased? It was something that Zâda had a hard time understanding. Her heart ached for Khazad-dûm, as all dwarf spirits did, and during each cycle of the years there was a period across the kingdoms to reflect on its glory and mourn for the desecration of the pinnacle of their race’s history, lost to time and orc filth. But of the destruction of the Firebeards? The Broadbeams? She felt her face flush.

“I didn’t even know they… existed,” she replied meekly. Igdi’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “You didn’t know… but they teach you history in the East? They teach you about the Wars and the Annals of our People?” “Yes,” Zâda replied sharply, “but we thought… many of us think… that Nogrod and Belegost were long ruined, destroyed in the Great Battle.” “Aye, an’ so they were!” Igdi looked up over her shoulder, and her face broke into a smile as she saw the speaker. “Come, Hafrin! Come educate our guest. Or are you just a ghost?” Igdi unstoppered a bottle of liquor and threw it to the round, barrel-chested dwarf that had shouted over at them. He was older than they were but still had a youthful glow in his ruddy cheeks, and while Igdi had a network of scars that crossed her brow and one particularly nasty one that ran from her chin to neck, the other dwarf looked as smooth as an egg, with his only hair being a magnificent flame-coloured beard. “I may be a ghost soon if I don’t get something to eat,” he said merrily, but took the alcohol, sniffing it carefully. “This will do for now.” Igdi turned back to Zâda. “Zâda — this is Hafrin Strongarm, a Firebeard.” Zâda rolled her eyes as Igdi wiggled her fingers, as though summoning up a real-life djebre or nuruk. “At your service! A pleasure to become acquainted with one of our Eastern fellows. You see some in the Ered Luin, but few, granted it’s on the other side of the world,” Hafrin replied. The dwarf leaned back on his elbows and kicked his shoes off, sinking his toes into the small brook that Igdi and Zâda had sat down by to eat lunch. He had a manner that spoke of a dwarf slow to take offence, and this set Zâda more at ease. Causing a diplomatic incident wasn’t on her to-do list. “Zâda, daughter of Khafun at your’s and your family’s,” she replied by rote. She had met so many new people that the greeting was automatic. “And I don’t think you’re a ghost,” she retorted, nudging Igdi in the small of her back with her knee as she sat down from her bow, “as you rightfully said, it is long to travel between our halls and we have more dealing with those of Durin’s line.” “Oh aye, naturally. Naturally. And I imagine there is much I don’t know about your Eastern holds, and you might call me ignorant if I stepped foot in them with the little I know about you,” replied Hafrin.

Over the next hour, Zâda sat in almost complete silence as Hafrin told the long, sad tale of the history of the Firebeards. She had known most of the major points — the Nauglamir, the War of Wrath, the massacres, the blood rivalries — from the history instruction drummed into all dwarven children, but what was most interesting to her was the migration after the near complete collapse of both Broadbeam and Firebeard civilisations, and how they had structured themselves since then. “Nay lass! No king for us, I think we’ve had enough of royal shenanigans,” Hafrin responded, to Zâda’s question on how they organised within their new homeland, which they shared with many of the Longbeard exiles. “There are elected representatives of our Clans, uncrowned mind you — for we lost the royal blood generations back. A few of the Elders’ names are put forth for leadership upon merit and their deeds. A dwarf who has good standing with their fellows is chosen by popular vote, and serves no more than ten years as Elder before the vote is cast again. Not enough time to cause too much trouble,” Hafrin said with a gleam in his eye. “No monarchy!” said Zâda incredulously, “I don’t know what the Blacklocks would do if we had that taken away from us. There would be riots!” “And so there was, for a time,” Hafrin replied, “but then a group of savvy dwarves put a stop to it and got a proper system in place. It wasn’t quick or easy, but it happened.” “Impressive. But even more impressive is how a bastard like you got elected twice,” said Igdi with a grin. Hafrin tackled Igdi and they almost landed on top of Zâda. She quickly rolled out of the way, worried for a second that Igdi had gone too far. The tussle was short-lived, however, and it only stopped because Hafrin was wheezing so hard in his laughter. “Won’t be saying that after a third term, eh!” he bellowed. Igdi snatched the open bottle from his hand and inspected it. “He’s almost finished it, typical,” Igdi muttered. Zâda looked at Hafrin as he wiped sweat from his brow and straightened his tunic. “You are the elected representative?” she asked carefully. “Aye! The Elder Firebeard. Most popular one since Bogr’s time. Can’t imagine why.” Hafrin said. Zâda bowed again, hearing her mother’s voice echo in her head, who would have chastised her for not showing proper respect. “At your Clan’s service, Elder Firebeard Hafrin. I hope to strengthen the relationship between our disparate peoples.” Hafrin clapped her on the back so hard her knees almost buckled, and she would have dove headfirst into the earth had Igdi not caught her around the waist. “Thanks,” Zâda said quickly. Igdi’s hands lingered just a while longer before drawing back. She looked up into her impossibly blue eyes, and then forced herself to stare away, back at Hafrin. Beside her, Igdi took a swig from the bottle and fiddled with a strap on her miner’s helmet. “Y’ve had a long journey. Need some meat on those bones, but we have plenty of it. Come, let’s get something to eat shall we? Catching up on a thousand years of history is hungry work.”

[thotinshield]

oh so i found a nice nice dollmaker and made the dwarf lesbians from The Took’s Arrangement, hehe 

Bafarr and Tagyna. I think Bafarr is in some casual clothes and Tagyna’s most likely wearing an outfit more usual for her. I want to do more with them in the future, maybe a side story in TTA’s universe. But it’s planned for them to both appear in the sequel!! Fingers crossed. (and sorry for lack of beards, believe me, both these ladies have wonderful beards) 

[venatohru]

Thinking about Edric Cadash meeting Yalor Aeducan is great.

Yalor would be excitedly telling him all this history and gossip about the nobles in Orzammar when Edric does not care at ALL...but is too polite to say anything for ages.

[bofurs-wife]

Seeing as I'm a bit better with pencils than I am with digital, I figured errandofmercy deserved a little fluffy domesticity in the care package I'll be sending.

I'm going to keep drawing dwarf babbies at you until you esplode, dear.