duffman86
tBS Traveller
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(7/18/04 11:58 pm)
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Gimli son of Glóin
screen name: duffman86
Contact Information: N/A
Character's Name:
Gimli son of Gloin
Gimli Elf-friend
Age: 139
Race: Dwarf of Dale
Gender: Male
Description:
A seemingly typical dwarf, Gimli does not push the envelope in any physical dimension. He is short, common to his race, but more than a century at the forge and anvil have refined him into a veritable powerhouse. Being of an honorable dwarf family (his great-great-grandfather was none other than Nain II), Gimli is typically found in the finest dwarf-mail and well-armed. In compliance, he is also reputed to posses a respectable beard.
Personality:
Gimli has found happiness in his ways and is unlikely to change them. He harbors what are seen as the typical loves of a dwarf: gold, food, drink and song. He carries what might be taken as an unusually zealous dislike for the Elves, though none have ever had reason to confront this since he has rarely left the city of Dale.
Possesions:
The dwarves of Dale found prosperity beneath the Lonely Mountain. Gimli is clad in the finest iron mail and dwarf robes. With him he carries a battle axe forged by his own hands, as well as a number of throwing axes with which he has become quite proficient.
History:
History:
Gimli's history is largely that of his family, as the dwarves have found in their lineage a common past. His father, Glóin, was one of the eleven dwarf companions of Thorin Oakenshield and was present at the Battle of the Five Armies. Gimli was sixty-two at the time and participated in this battle himself.
Since the slaying of Smaug by Bard and the return of the dwarfs to Dain, Gimli has lived under the rule of Dain II Ironfoot, living a kingly life working gold and jewels as a leading citizen of Dale. Of course, mining and smithing are worthy labors, but Gimli awaited a time when he could do some greater deed.
The opportunity came in the year 3017 (T.A.) with the first appearance of the dark servants to Dale. They came inquiring of the one called "Baggins" and the Ring he carried, calling it "a little ring, the least of rings". Though they promised bounty and ring-gifts as they were of old, the dwarves of Dale remained steadfast, giving the enemy no knowledge of the hobbit. As the frequency and urgency of the ultimatums increased, those dwarves connected to Bilbo grew concerned. Gimli and his father, Gloin, set out from Dale for Rivendell, hoping to warn Bilbo ere harm befell him.
Sample RP:
T.A. 2943
A red dawn broke beyond the western borders of Mirkwood. The night had seen the earth blackened by the blood of goblins, would-be raiders from the Misty Mountains. The fields were quiet now but for the groaning speech of dwarves, still laboring to remove their wounded from the sight of the buzzards. In the distance a great man stood, speaking with the dwarf masters from Dain.
Beorn had advised the dwarves of the coming raid of the goblins, a last effort for their dwindling numbers to invade Mirkwood, reach the Long Lake to plunder the houses of Men once more. Gimli of Dain had been sent to quell this, taking with him a host of stout dwarves, including his uncle Oin. Few dwarves died and fewer goblins were allowed to retreat. Long had Gimli wished to prove his worth in battle, but scope and presence had not allowed it. Beorn assured him now that this would no longer be so.
"The borders will be secure for many Springs following this battle, dwarf," spoke the great Beorn. "Had I known dwarves to be so fierce, I would perhaps have been less elusive in my previous dealings with them."
"Fear not, Beorn. Your might has proven itself as well, and no ill will is harbored between dwarves and Men." Gimli felt strangely at ease in Beorn's presence, though he knew the size and power this man possesed were far greater and less predictable than those of any dwarf. He had heard that victory made one a lord when he ought be a coward. He laughed inside at his father's wisdom. "I fear, though, that no amount of effort on our part will make these parts truly safe. There still lies Dol Guldur, and the Necromancer. A wise man once told my father that he is a foe beyond the might of all dwarves, even if they could be collected from the far corners of the world." He spoke in whispers, knowing what ill fate evil names could bring.
"Aye, lad, but the Necromancer, I think, will not be for the dwarves to slay. Prithee, return to your mountain, seek your lot, and all will be well for thee. Do not forget, though, the kindness of the Beornings, should we ever require your aid."
"The name of Beorn is already in song. You shall not be forgotten, so long as the hammers of the dwarves fall."
((OOC: I apologize for the length of this sample. It is easy to get carried away with such things.))
A French war corrispondant to the British during the Revolutionary
War learned that the Brits wore red coats so their comrades
would not be detered from combat by the sight of friendly blood.
The French have worn brown pants to battle ever since. Edited by: poetchic  at: 7/20/04 1:54 am
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