Dazmond Wiedman: Potions Supplier/Criminal [Biography] Tags: Dazmond Wiedman Read 1637 times / 0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic. Dazmond Wiedman: Potions Supplier/Criminal [Biography] on January 12, 2009, 10:53:29 PM Thank you for making this amazing image, Sarah!!Indelibly, indubitably accepted. - Knox GreyfriarYour Nickname: Natalie or Dazmond.Have you read and do you agree to the Code of Conduct & Guidelines?: Yes! How did you find us and decide to write with us? I adminned on HM and SR, and was invited to help in the construction of this site!If you have written other characters here, list them all: None. Full Character Name: Dazmond Lois Wiedman (pronounced: Veed-muhn) Character Birthday & Age: April 3, 1983. 25 years old.City & Country of Birth: London, England. Pureblood, Halfblood or Muggleborn?: Pureblood.Alma Mater: Hogwarts, Slytherin House. 1995-2002.Occupation: Private Potions Supplier, Thief, Opportunist.Type of Criminal: Black Market trader, Illegal Potionsmaker, Thief, Anarchist. Allegiances / Loyalties / Political Philosophy: Dazmond is in the game for her own advancement. She arbitrarily defines boundaries and allegiances based on whatever will benefit her at the time. She generally looks down upon the Ministry, thinking their maniacal attempt to control the trade of plant life and potions only proves their lack of intelligence in such matters. Still, there is a part of Dazmond that naturally navigates toward the criminal sphere; doubtless should these items cease to be strictly banned she would lose some interest, if even marginally. Dazmond (at site open) does not have any strong loyalties toward anyone other than herself, politically. She does not look up to a boss, a prospect which causes her to cringe violently. Dazmond may lend a hand to parties supporting the Dark Arts, but she would never consider herself partial to them and unless she had developed strong friendships there, she wouldn't be against two-timing any allegiances she makes.Previous Convictions or Crimes?: Dazmond has, since the age of 13, been highly active in the trade of banned goods, particularly potions, plants, and other potion ingredients. She has been taken in by the Ministry on two occasions for this. Both times she was fined and held for questioning, though she was just a schoolgirl and got off without much of a hitch.What crimes might you commit in the future? Discuss all possible: Dazmond is a thief and Black Market trader. She may steal ingredients from shops or individuals if she thinks she can get away with it. Dazmond is a private supplier herself, of illegal concoctions. She sells or barters large or small quantities of poisons, intoxicants, delirients, transformatives, and among others, Ministry-restricted potions for unregistered beings. Dazmond is interested in occult magic, and it's possible that she could be involved in a dark-arts centered group should the opportunity arise. She is, after all, an opportunist. It is also possible that Dazmond could get into some messy duels, letting a bit of illegal magic slip. She's a firm believer in self-defense, so I wouldn't rule it out (especially knowing the sort of messes she gets into). Dazmond has additionally poisoned individuals with her brews on a number of occasions -- although she hasn't yet killed anybody by this method, it is a possibility. Up to the present day Daz poisons in order to steal once she has gained access or knowledge of how to gain access to the personal belongings of others.Are you currently under pursuit by the Ministry of Magic?: Dazmond has a history with the MoM and for this reason they keep a file on her. At the current moment, she isn't considered a dire threat, but it's possible that the Ministry may keep tabs on her for the potential opportunity to take down Black Market operations through her inevitable involvement. It seems to Dazmond as if they are hoping the run-ins she had with the Ministry during her school days will deter her from becoming a full-fledged criminal. Dazmond guards against being called out by victims by using confusion potions on them.Wand Description: Elder wood with a core of Dragon Heartstring. 11 inches. It has a spiraled shaft, twisted as though a strong ivy once climbed across its branch -- strangling and squeezing till having left its impression. The wand is firm, heavy, inflexible, with a knobby knot at its base that usually sits between Dazmond's thumb and forefinger. Physical Description: Not of monumental height, Dazmond is a little thing (just five feet tall) with a large auric presence. She has long locks of black and crimson stripes, which are perhaps her most distinguishable feature, with bangs of various length. Her eyes are intense aqua orbs, somewhere between blue and green and grey. She has thin lips, a verticle labret piercing, a few colorful ink spells here and there, and a proud gait. Like Datura, the plant with which Daz's spirit most resonates, her presence is menacing in an untold way, euphoric and impossible to place. She has a light dusting of freckles and a discerning stance. Dazmond sometimes dresses boldly and abstractly in fine robes and layers of unusual garb. She's taken a liking to leggings of all kinds, gloves, hats, accessories. She can at times be the type of person that cool-hunters track down for the latest styles, although they would probably only make it down a catwalk or into a magazine once. Avante-garde witch garb, if you will, what most people couldn't get away with: highly colorful and perhaps obnoxious, but somehow down to earth, tight-fitting, and anything but normal. When she is planning to be a bit more down tempo, inconspicuous even, Daz'll feel at home in simple black robes just the same; in fact this is her more usual getup as Dazmond rarely has access to her wardrobe. (Though it must be noted that Daz has become efficient at shrinking things over the years and can carry a great deal with her wherever she goes.)But that is the general impression: There is something not quite right about this woman. Is she an actress, a model, surely some sort of star? For most muggle Londoners, Daz is an apparition otherworldly. Most assume she is in with performance art -- underground -- one day they'll happen upon her. That is the feeling engendered: This is the type of woman who gets what she wants. Tough, charming, strange.It is not unusual to see the other (perhaps more prominent) side of Dazmond's outward appearance, influenced by her chosen profession; she has a tendency to be scrappy, boyish even. Dirt smeared on her face or under her nails, torn clothing, skinned knees. There is, one will start to notice, a delicate balance with Dazmond -- that falls between almost pretentious fascination with appearances (an obsession with being a girl) and the natural manifestation of her strange feminine boyishness, her desire to romp through the woods and splash through mud puddles, her delight in the dark aspects of magic, and her interest in duelling and hitting bludgers.Personality Description: Dazmond is foremost a down-to-earth and practical individual, choosing to capitalize on rationality. Her father has always shown her that clear and concise thinking leads to success and the obliteration of life's obstacles. Though grounded in this manner, she is also head-strong, stubborn, and forward-propelled. An Aries to the max, Daz harnesses a considerable amount of fire energy, which she's learned to transmute through her obsession with alchemy and the art of the cauldron. Daz is still impatient, however. She wants her way and to be on her way in haste. It is never wise to keep Wiedman waiting. She'll inevitably get herself into more trouble than you would ever think possible. She's impulsive, flighty, rash, and egotistical. Daz's fire can be like too much betel nut in the morning, or it can serve as a glowing, brilliant passion to warm your hands by in the cold of night. It all depends on the level of trust you've developed with her, and how much you are willing to give.She is well-known for her undying fascination and talent for plants and potions, fixation on her ever-growing bottle collection, and propulsion toward all things dark, twisted, and awry. In fact she nearly always gravitates toward the lurid and revolting, utilizing her charm to get her way. Many a belittled man has accused her of being a hag. Of course, it's not true; she just knows how to play cards, is all. She is much intuned to her inner she-demon and is, quite as a result, one of the most independent women you are likely to come across.She rather likes (i.e. expects) attention and compliments, having an innate desire to be -- so to say -- the star of the show. In her relationships, Daz needs affirmation and continual assurance. This is rather paradoxical, considering her extreme prowess and confidence, but attention is precisely what Wiedman craves. If she isn't getting what she wants, however, she will go elsewhere rather than throw a fit.Highly discerning, judgmental, and choosy with her closest friends, she is more likely to overlook people than she is to insult or belittle them. Daz believes that out there in the real world, it's every witch for herself, no matter what the cost. She is a firm believer in self defense.The fascinating air of mystique around Dazmond is actually her sense of spirituality. Daz is highly in-tune with the energies around her and practices divination under the influence of intoxicants brewed by her own hand (preferably with all ingredients grown by her own hand as well). She works with gem magic as well as astrology and soaks almost all herbs and ingredients for use in her potions under specific constellations. She follows the cycles of the moon like the common calendar and charts her growth through its phases. Good luck trying to get her to share this aspect of herself with you. Only the closest of the close are allowed into her inner core.All said, there are many in between layers of Dazmond's personality. She will show you as much or as little as she likes, or she will show you something else completely fabricated for the express purpose of screwing you over. If you are one of the close individuals in her life, consider yourself lucky; developing trust with her is a tricky business.History: Aliec always wanted a daughter. Inevitably, Dazmond's father infiltrated every aspect of her mental construction as a growing child, thinking it wise to start the girl out early thinking right. Molding her in his image, lovingly but also a bit fanatically. She loved the attention, however, and she gobbled it up. Soon Daz was reading voraciously without her father's help. Books and stories were so integral to her youth that life without them seemed a dull and impossible existence. Not to say her mother wasn't an influence -- the housewife, wonderful cook, comforter of the sick, part-time artist of the house -- for Dazmond learned one of the most integral lessons of her life from said woman: Never be a house-wife. In the proximity of her father's grandeur, illuminated so he was by the light of his knowledge and confidence, her mother's isolation to the home sickened her, bogged her down, and struck fear in her heart of sharing the same fate. She yearned to roam, wander, profit, and amaze.Perhaps because of this, Dazmond balanced her appetite for knowledge with a healthy, daily dose of fresh air. She grew up in the heart of London, and was thus exposed to many a park and street to stroll down, many an opportunity to make a name for herself and kick up dust -- whether that meant hitting bludgers with her brother or showing off to snot-nose kids in the city by night. And so she carried out her childhood, caught up in fairytales and dark-arts philosophy books the one day, trudging through swamplands and getting grass burns for just the right hoo-haw the next. Dazmond was always an unusual balance between girly girl and dirty tomboy, as was said. She got along famously with her elder brother and his friends, and quite often she returned home for supper covered in mud and soaked to the bone. She gained a fair bit of pride at her mother's distress and made a habit of getting dirty very early on.When she was 11, she was sorted into Slytherin house and taken in by the castle, as was Wiedman custom. It was around this time that her fascination with the natural world developed. She found class in the greenhouses enormously fulfilling. O the aroma of mossy wooden planting beds, damp like all else in Winter when you could spot shelf mushrooms finding life where they could. And that scent of soil! -- the joy of seeing seeds sprout and come into form. She was enthralled with the potential she saw in hard work in alliance with powerful plants; the more she read, the more she needed to know. Tropane alkaloids, euphoriant succulents, allies in small doses and tickets to the asylum in large, feathered gallowappers, red snapping snapdragons, wormwood and vervain and mugwort -- all sentient beings, all conscious of intent, all open to alliance with the one who nourished and cared for them....Throughout her time at the school, Dazmond devoted herself to plants and the art of preparation -- potions. Any other subject was a waste of time, and she made a brilliant effort of avoiding all of it. If it wasn't green or steaming, her interest rested in her friends. Almost two distinct circles, there were the girls and then there were the boys -- and Dazmond reciprocated well with both but never both at once. Unlike the other girls, she wasn't very giggly in her youth. She wasn't ever very boy-crazy to begin with, and had a tendency to see them all as brothers. She often played quidditch with them in the pitch, but never joined the team because she felt she had more important things to do. In any case, her close friends were almost always of the masculine type. She was too mellow to associate with females for any great length of time. Still, she was sort of a magnet for pretentious young women, and she found herself to be a bit more popular than she really liked.Dazmond has always enjoyed civil disobedience. She likes to take control out of the hands of authority just as much as she likes to tap into forbidden mysteries and gain access to alternate dimensions of thought. This fact led her to a bit of trouble throughout her school years -- nothing enough to get her kicked out, and it was nothing she regretted. In fact, it was just enough to get her ready for the world out there, where her interest in banned goods would expand and mature.Dazmond was in her fifth year when the battle of Hogwarts occurred. In those days she developed an appetite for the dark arts. She didn't altogether understand what it was the minions of He-Who-Is-Not-Often-Named actually wanted. To her, it was always a bit mysterious and enchanting. Maybe not their methods so much, a lot of it horrorified Dazmond, but she definitely was aware of a thirst or hunger at any mention of these dark-cloaked and anonymous beasts.After school, Dazmond did everything she could to avoid becoming a societal pon. She had a vision for herself from long ago, in her youth, from her father's tales. She would neither be house-wife nor professional, but she would instead gear toward an outcast existence, floating here and there and getting everything she wanted while doing only what she loved. And so for a time -- while it still suited her -- Dazmond allowed herself to make a nest in London with her long-time boyfriend, Malcolm Baddock [canon reference]. For three years she made home-base and brewed up a storm, fixing a name for herself on the Black Market and doing favors for the big wigs. To Dazmond, once she really got a taste for devilment, her less than flowery relationship to Malcolm was just a means to an end. They never got on like lovers for more than a day before all hell broke loose, and being tied down was not her favorite color, anyway. So it became the perfect platform for venturing out. Dazmond spent more and more time going from place to place as she made careful use of the extra funds his sooty parents afforded him. This period of transition would prove to be the last shoving off of the hand which fed her, a final goodbye to any remnant of normalcy in her life. For one reason or another, Dazmond was eager to lose any trace of stability; a string of months fashioned after the above culminated in a drought of death at dinnertime followed by a fast disappearance with a sack of valuables. That year, in 2004, Dazmond went nomadic. Femme fatale. Gypsy. Sphinx. The only thread of familiarity became her potions, her seeking of arcane knowledge amongst a handful of good friends, and getting away with absurd plots of theft and trickery. Her presence on the Black Market became well-known, especially in London where she frequents to this day. In times when crash pads, nooks and crannies ran short, Dazmond learned to suck up her pride and default to her family's villa just on the outskirts of London. For the greater part of the last four years, however, she has successfully lived without ever paying rent, and usually with something extra which she could barter for ingredients. Dazmond probably has a fair few enemies around town who she owes money to.Around 2005, however, Dazmond came upon her first real snag in the road; after even a lot of close calls and scary instances, the thing which fazed her was a sudden caring. A reunion with an old cohort from her school days who never ceased to please her arrived, bringing with it a breath of life. Nate Briggs had disappeared in fifth year, which hardly surprised anybody; the real kicker was that upon his return, Dazmond was perplexed to find herself fast to attach. The two went from old friends to cohorts to best chums almost overnight. Dazmond often thought of the shabby youth fondly, hardly going a day without considering his whacky ways. Last year, Dazmond and Nate married; they had a very uncommon and strange ceremony among their closest friends -- a hodgepodge of criminals and squatters, eccentrics and tradesmen. Nathan works as a stockboy at an apothecary in town and is a permanent resident of the Sodding Arms Hotel. Daz still wanders and charms her way into bank vaults, but it is clear where her heart is. She goes a while before seeing her husband when running certain tricks, and it gives her pleasure to know she isn't bound to house and home; at the end of the day, however, it is always Nathan, and her victims are victims of her wit and cunning. Writing Sample: [From SR]A small marvel of black and crimson locks joined the 8 o'clock foray as the eccentrics laid claim to their usual haunt. Instantly lifted by the vigor of the Mog & Marrow, Dazmond Wiedman carried her short frame tall as she walked directly toward the bar, stepping over a fallen 'soldier' without so much as a glance along her way. On her person she carried a large rucksack that swung from her shoulder, carrying one singularly heavy item. The young woman wore a badge, boldly reading B.A.G.She slid onto a stool a ways down from the men she hadn't yet noticed. Her trajectory was focused, and Daz paid little mind to the colorful events surrounding her. She rather fed off of it subconsciously, letting it melt and mingle in the background of her front-stage existence. A barman quickly approached her, wiping out a glass as he raised his eyes to her person questioningly."I need Mircea," she said, pulling out a cigarette. "And a firewhiskey. Make it quick." Daz lit the fag, looking up briefly to see the man roll away from her easily, with a heavy blink and turn of the shoulder, in search of her request in a manner seeming to say, I'm not your lackey, but alright, alright. She took advantage of the suspended moment to glance around the bar. Her gaze meandered freely, never sticking in one place for too long. Yet as her eyes slid over the pudgy faces, the broken-teethed grins, the swooning ladies -- a truly whirling scene fit for a carnival -- she happened upon something more than curious. There, about ten stools down, was Oliver Pierce. He had been in her shop only a few nights before to bid business and let her in on his majestic plan, scam, scheme, dream. But this was more than that, more than a chance encounter with a business partner, as Pierce was getting on with a recent acquaintance of hers, James Grimshaw. James Grimshaw. She couldn't help but be intrigued by the bloke. After the whirlwind manner in which they'd met, Dazmond wanted to know everything about him. And now, squinting across the bar from her mellow stardom's stance, she wanted to know just why he was saddled up next to Oliver Pierce, talking, laughing, gazing back at a crowd of women....But she was pin-pricked out of the moment by a shotglass being set down hard in front of her. Jerking slightly out of her trance, she cleared her throat at the sight of Mircea -- a thin-framed, delicate looking man of around 60 years, who nonetheless seemed in the best of health, a bit of a Woody Allen look adorning his person. He addressed Dazmond plaintively, as if just having lost his savings in a card game."I need a bottle of your best scotch," she said. "No credit, a straight trade." She recognized quickly the way in which he said her name, stopping him before he could lead into some excuse for denying her her right. "No, No, Mircea, it's worthwhile. Premium absinthe," she said, drawing out the large bottle from her bag. "I can pay off some of my tab tonight. C'mon," she said sweetly. "Help an old crone out?"It took nothing more than that, and a few moments later Daz's bag was packed with top quality scotch fit for a werewolf. Fillin would be pleased, and so was Daz. She grinned at the old shark, thanking him heartily in a song of ridiculous praises. Flaunting her flattery, she would have ruffled his hair, had she been able to reach the top of his head."Alright, I'll be around, chap," she said in fairwell, moving off her perch -- after sinking back in one throw the shotglass of whiskey -- to roam nearer the duo and scope out the territory. But with little more than a second's consideration, she knew she wanted in on whatever it was that brought two such astounding wizards together at once, in such a worthwhile tavern. And so she pulled over a stool, budging it between Oliver and James."Well, well, well," she said, subduing partially a broadened smile. "If it isn't my gents." She didn't mind asking if it was alright if she sat, for she wouldn't especially welcome a negative answer. Instead, she invited herself over to their bushel of gestures, taking a smooth pull from her cigarette and immersing her figure in a cloud of slow-flowing smoke. Sum up your character in one paragraph: Dazmond is a confident, charming femme fatale -- headstrong, impatient, adventurous and quirky. She does whatever it takes to get what she wants. Daz is best known for her ability to brew just about any potion, and is notorious on the Black Market. She steals and flirts to ensure her well-being, among many other tactics. She is a fierce and independent woman with an interest in the Dark Arts, herbology, and potionsmaking. Highly intelligent and discerning, Dazmond Wiedman is a formidable witch who knows when to get her hands dirty. Skip to next post
Dazmond Wiedman: Potions Supplier/Criminal [Biography] on January 12, 2009, 10:53:29 PM Thank you for making this amazing image, Sarah!!Indelibly, indubitably accepted. - Knox GreyfriarYour Nickname: Natalie or Dazmond.Have you read and do you agree to the Code of Conduct & Guidelines?: Yes! How did you find us and decide to write with us? I adminned on HM and SR, and was invited to help in the construction of this site!If you have written other characters here, list them all: None. Full Character Name: Dazmond Lois Wiedman (pronounced: Veed-muhn) Character Birthday & Age: April 3, 1983. 25 years old.City & Country of Birth: London, England. Pureblood, Halfblood or Muggleborn?: Pureblood.Alma Mater: Hogwarts, Slytherin House. 1995-2002.Occupation: Private Potions Supplier, Thief, Opportunist.Type of Criminal: Black Market trader, Illegal Potionsmaker, Thief, Anarchist. Allegiances / Loyalties / Political Philosophy: Dazmond is in the game for her own advancement. She arbitrarily defines boundaries and allegiances based on whatever will benefit her at the time. She generally looks down upon the Ministry, thinking their maniacal attempt to control the trade of plant life and potions only proves their lack of intelligence in such matters. Still, there is a part of Dazmond that naturally navigates toward the criminal sphere; doubtless should these items cease to be strictly banned she would lose some interest, if even marginally. Dazmond (at site open) does not have any strong loyalties toward anyone other than herself, politically. She does not look up to a boss, a prospect which causes her to cringe violently. Dazmond may lend a hand to parties supporting the Dark Arts, but she would never consider herself partial to them and unless she had developed strong friendships there, she wouldn't be against two-timing any allegiances she makes.Previous Convictions or Crimes?: Dazmond has, since the age of 13, been highly active in the trade of banned goods, particularly potions, plants, and other potion ingredients. She has been taken in by the Ministry on two occasions for this. Both times she was fined and held for questioning, though she was just a schoolgirl and got off without much of a hitch.What crimes might you commit in the future? Discuss all possible: Dazmond is a thief and Black Market trader. She may steal ingredients from shops or individuals if she thinks she can get away with it. Dazmond is a private supplier herself, of illegal concoctions. She sells or barters large or small quantities of poisons, intoxicants, delirients, transformatives, and among others, Ministry-restricted potions for unregistered beings. Dazmond is interested in occult magic, and it's possible that she could be involved in a dark-arts centered group should the opportunity arise. She is, after all, an opportunist. It is also possible that Dazmond could get into some messy duels, letting a bit of illegal magic slip. She's a firm believer in self-defense, so I wouldn't rule it out (especially knowing the sort of messes she gets into). Dazmond has additionally poisoned individuals with her brews on a number of occasions -- although she hasn't yet killed anybody by this method, it is a possibility. Up to the present day Daz poisons in order to steal once she has gained access or knowledge of how to gain access to the personal belongings of others.Are you currently under pursuit by the Ministry of Magic?: Dazmond has a history with the MoM and for this reason they keep a file on her. At the current moment, she isn't considered a dire threat, but it's possible that the Ministry may keep tabs on her for the potential opportunity to take down Black Market operations through her inevitable involvement. It seems to Dazmond as if they are hoping the run-ins she had with the Ministry during her school days will deter her from becoming a full-fledged criminal. Dazmond guards against being called out by victims by using confusion potions on them.Wand Description: Elder wood with a core of Dragon Heartstring. 11 inches. It has a spiraled shaft, twisted as though a strong ivy once climbed across its branch -- strangling and squeezing till having left its impression. The wand is firm, heavy, inflexible, with a knobby knot at its base that usually sits between Dazmond's thumb and forefinger. Physical Description: Not of monumental height, Dazmond is a little thing (just five feet tall) with a large auric presence. She has long locks of black and crimson stripes, which are perhaps her most distinguishable feature, with bangs of various length. Her eyes are intense aqua orbs, somewhere between blue and green and grey. She has thin lips, a verticle labret piercing, a few colorful ink spells here and there, and a proud gait. Like Datura, the plant with which Daz's spirit most resonates, her presence is menacing in an untold way, euphoric and impossible to place. She has a light dusting of freckles and a discerning stance. Dazmond sometimes dresses boldly and abstractly in fine robes and layers of unusual garb. She's taken a liking to leggings of all kinds, gloves, hats, accessories. She can at times be the type of person that cool-hunters track down for the latest styles, although they would probably only make it down a catwalk or into a magazine once. Avante-garde witch garb, if you will, what most people couldn't get away with: highly colorful and perhaps obnoxious, but somehow down to earth, tight-fitting, and anything but normal. When she is planning to be a bit more down tempo, inconspicuous even, Daz'll feel at home in simple black robes just the same; in fact this is her more usual getup as Dazmond rarely has access to her wardrobe. (Though it must be noted that Daz has become efficient at shrinking things over the years and can carry a great deal with her wherever she goes.)But that is the general impression: There is something not quite right about this woman. Is she an actress, a model, surely some sort of star? For most muggle Londoners, Daz is an apparition otherworldly. Most assume she is in with performance art -- underground -- one day they'll happen upon her. That is the feeling engendered: This is the type of woman who gets what she wants. Tough, charming, strange.It is not unusual to see the other (perhaps more prominent) side of Dazmond's outward appearance, influenced by her chosen profession; she has a tendency to be scrappy, boyish even. Dirt smeared on her face or under her nails, torn clothing, skinned knees. There is, one will start to notice, a delicate balance with Dazmond -- that falls between almost pretentious fascination with appearances (an obsession with being a girl) and the natural manifestation of her strange feminine boyishness, her desire to romp through the woods and splash through mud puddles, her delight in the dark aspects of magic, and her interest in duelling and hitting bludgers.Personality Description: Dazmond is foremost a down-to-earth and practical individual, choosing to capitalize on rationality. Her father has always shown her that clear and concise thinking leads to success and the obliteration of life's obstacles. Though grounded in this manner, she is also head-strong, stubborn, and forward-propelled. An Aries to the max, Daz harnesses a considerable amount of fire energy, which she's learned to transmute through her obsession with alchemy and the art of the cauldron. Daz is still impatient, however. She wants her way and to be on her way in haste. It is never wise to keep Wiedman waiting. She'll inevitably get herself into more trouble than you would ever think possible. She's impulsive, flighty, rash, and egotistical. Daz's fire can be like too much betel nut in the morning, or it can serve as a glowing, brilliant passion to warm your hands by in the cold of night. It all depends on the level of trust you've developed with her, and how much you are willing to give.She is well-known for her undying fascination and talent for plants and potions, fixation on her ever-growing bottle collection, and propulsion toward all things dark, twisted, and awry. In fact she nearly always gravitates toward the lurid and revolting, utilizing her charm to get her way. Many a belittled man has accused her of being a hag. Of course, it's not true; she just knows how to play cards, is all. She is much intuned to her inner she-demon and is, quite as a result, one of the most independent women you are likely to come across.She rather likes (i.e. expects) attention and compliments, having an innate desire to be -- so to say -- the star of the show. In her relationships, Daz needs affirmation and continual assurance. This is rather paradoxical, considering her extreme prowess and confidence, but attention is precisely what Wiedman craves. If she isn't getting what she wants, however, she will go elsewhere rather than throw a fit.Highly discerning, judgmental, and choosy with her closest friends, she is more likely to overlook people than she is to insult or belittle them. Daz believes that out there in the real world, it's every witch for herself, no matter what the cost. She is a firm believer in self defense.The fascinating air of mystique around Dazmond is actually her sense of spirituality. Daz is highly in-tune with the energies around her and practices divination under the influence of intoxicants brewed by her own hand (preferably with all ingredients grown by her own hand as well). She works with gem magic as well as astrology and soaks almost all herbs and ingredients for use in her potions under specific constellations. She follows the cycles of the moon like the common calendar and charts her growth through its phases. Good luck trying to get her to share this aspect of herself with you. Only the closest of the close are allowed into her inner core.All said, there are many in between layers of Dazmond's personality. She will show you as much or as little as she likes, or she will show you something else completely fabricated for the express purpose of screwing you over. If you are one of the close individuals in her life, consider yourself lucky; developing trust with her is a tricky business.History: Aliec always wanted a daughter. Inevitably, Dazmond's father infiltrated every aspect of her mental construction as a growing child, thinking it wise to start the girl out early thinking right. Molding her in his image, lovingly but also a bit fanatically. She loved the attention, however, and she gobbled it up. Soon Daz was reading voraciously without her father's help. Books and stories were so integral to her youth that life without them seemed a dull and impossible existence. Not to say her mother wasn't an influence -- the housewife, wonderful cook, comforter of the sick, part-time artist of the house -- for Dazmond learned one of the most integral lessons of her life from said woman: Never be a house-wife. In the proximity of her father's grandeur, illuminated so he was by the light of his knowledge and confidence, her mother's isolation to the home sickened her, bogged her down, and struck fear in her heart of sharing the same fate. She yearned to roam, wander, profit, and amaze.Perhaps because of this, Dazmond balanced her appetite for knowledge with a healthy, daily dose of fresh air. She grew up in the heart of London, and was thus exposed to many a park and street to stroll down, many an opportunity to make a name for herself and kick up dust -- whether that meant hitting bludgers with her brother or showing off to snot-nose kids in the city by night. And so she carried out her childhood, caught up in fairytales and dark-arts philosophy books the one day, trudging through swamplands and getting grass burns for just the right hoo-haw the next. Dazmond was always an unusual balance between girly girl and dirty tomboy, as was said. She got along famously with her elder brother and his friends, and quite often she returned home for supper covered in mud and soaked to the bone. She gained a fair bit of pride at her mother's distress and made a habit of getting dirty very early on.When she was 11, she was sorted into Slytherin house and taken in by the castle, as was Wiedman custom. It was around this time that her fascination with the natural world developed. She found class in the greenhouses enormously fulfilling. O the aroma of mossy wooden planting beds, damp like all else in Winter when you could spot shelf mushrooms finding life where they could. And that scent of soil! -- the joy of seeing seeds sprout and come into form. She was enthralled with the potential she saw in hard work in alliance with powerful plants; the more she read, the more she needed to know. Tropane alkaloids, euphoriant succulents, allies in small doses and tickets to the asylum in large, feathered gallowappers, red snapping snapdragons, wormwood and vervain and mugwort -- all sentient beings, all conscious of intent, all open to alliance with the one who nourished and cared for them....Throughout her time at the school, Dazmond devoted herself to plants and the art of preparation -- potions. Any other subject was a waste of time, and she made a brilliant effort of avoiding all of it. If it wasn't green or steaming, her interest rested in her friends. Almost two distinct circles, there were the girls and then there were the boys -- and Dazmond reciprocated well with both but never both at once. Unlike the other girls, she wasn't very giggly in her youth. She wasn't ever very boy-crazy to begin with, and had a tendency to see them all as brothers. She often played quidditch with them in the pitch, but never joined the team because she felt she had more important things to do. In any case, her close friends were almost always of the masculine type. She was too mellow to associate with females for any great length of time. Still, she was sort of a magnet for pretentious young women, and she found herself to be a bit more popular than she really liked.Dazmond has always enjoyed civil disobedience. She likes to take control out of the hands of authority just as much as she likes to tap into forbidden mysteries and gain access to alternate dimensions of thought. This fact led her to a bit of trouble throughout her school years -- nothing enough to get her kicked out, and it was nothing she regretted. In fact, it was just enough to get her ready for the world out there, where her interest in banned goods would expand and mature.Dazmond was in her fifth year when the battle of Hogwarts occurred. In those days she developed an appetite for the dark arts. She didn't altogether understand what it was the minions of He-Who-Is-Not-Often-Named actually wanted. To her, it was always a bit mysterious and enchanting. Maybe not their methods so much, a lot of it horrorified Dazmond, but she definitely was aware of a thirst or hunger at any mention of these dark-cloaked and anonymous beasts.After school, Dazmond did everything she could to avoid becoming a societal pon. She had a vision for herself from long ago, in her youth, from her father's tales. She would neither be house-wife nor professional, but she would instead gear toward an outcast existence, floating here and there and getting everything she wanted while doing only what she loved. And so for a time -- while it still suited her -- Dazmond allowed herself to make a nest in London with her long-time boyfriend, Malcolm Baddock [canon reference]. For three years she made home-base and brewed up a storm, fixing a name for herself on the Black Market and doing favors for the big wigs. To Dazmond, once she really got a taste for devilment, her less than flowery relationship to Malcolm was just a means to an end. They never got on like lovers for more than a day before all hell broke loose, and being tied down was not her favorite color, anyway. So it became the perfect platform for venturing out. Dazmond spent more and more time going from place to place as she made careful use of the extra funds his sooty parents afforded him. This period of transition would prove to be the last shoving off of the hand which fed her, a final goodbye to any remnant of normalcy in her life. For one reason or another, Dazmond was eager to lose any trace of stability; a string of months fashioned after the above culminated in a drought of death at dinnertime followed by a fast disappearance with a sack of valuables. That year, in 2004, Dazmond went nomadic. Femme fatale. Gypsy. Sphinx. The only thread of familiarity became her potions, her seeking of arcane knowledge amongst a handful of good friends, and getting away with absurd plots of theft and trickery. Her presence on the Black Market became well-known, especially in London where she frequents to this day. In times when crash pads, nooks and crannies ran short, Dazmond learned to suck up her pride and default to her family's villa just on the outskirts of London. For the greater part of the last four years, however, she has successfully lived without ever paying rent, and usually with something extra which she could barter for ingredients. Dazmond probably has a fair few enemies around town who she owes money to.Around 2005, however, Dazmond came upon her first real snag in the road; after even a lot of close calls and scary instances, the thing which fazed her was a sudden caring. A reunion with an old cohort from her school days who never ceased to please her arrived, bringing with it a breath of life. Nate Briggs had disappeared in fifth year, which hardly surprised anybody; the real kicker was that upon his return, Dazmond was perplexed to find herself fast to attach. The two went from old friends to cohorts to best chums almost overnight. Dazmond often thought of the shabby youth fondly, hardly going a day without considering his whacky ways. Last year, Dazmond and Nate married; they had a very uncommon and strange ceremony among their closest friends -- a hodgepodge of criminals and squatters, eccentrics and tradesmen. Nathan works as a stockboy at an apothecary in town and is a permanent resident of the Sodding Arms Hotel. Daz still wanders and charms her way into bank vaults, but it is clear where her heart is. She goes a while before seeing her husband when running certain tricks, and it gives her pleasure to know she isn't bound to house and home; at the end of the day, however, it is always Nathan, and her victims are victims of her wit and cunning. Writing Sample: [From SR]A small marvel of black and crimson locks joined the 8 o'clock foray as the eccentrics laid claim to their usual haunt. Instantly lifted by the vigor of the Mog & Marrow, Dazmond Wiedman carried her short frame tall as she walked directly toward the bar, stepping over a fallen 'soldier' without so much as a glance along her way. On her person she carried a large rucksack that swung from her shoulder, carrying one singularly heavy item. The young woman wore a badge, boldly reading B.A.G.She slid onto a stool a ways down from the men she hadn't yet noticed. Her trajectory was focused, and Daz paid little mind to the colorful events surrounding her. She rather fed off of it subconsciously, letting it melt and mingle in the background of her front-stage existence. A barman quickly approached her, wiping out a glass as he raised his eyes to her person questioningly."I need Mircea," she said, pulling out a cigarette. "And a firewhiskey. Make it quick." Daz lit the fag, looking up briefly to see the man roll away from her easily, with a heavy blink and turn of the shoulder, in search of her request in a manner seeming to say, I'm not your lackey, but alright, alright. She took advantage of the suspended moment to glance around the bar. Her gaze meandered freely, never sticking in one place for too long. Yet as her eyes slid over the pudgy faces, the broken-teethed grins, the swooning ladies -- a truly whirling scene fit for a carnival -- she happened upon something more than curious. There, about ten stools down, was Oliver Pierce. He had been in her shop only a few nights before to bid business and let her in on his majestic plan, scam, scheme, dream. But this was more than that, more than a chance encounter with a business partner, as Pierce was getting on with a recent acquaintance of hers, James Grimshaw. James Grimshaw. She couldn't help but be intrigued by the bloke. After the whirlwind manner in which they'd met, Dazmond wanted to know everything about him. And now, squinting across the bar from her mellow stardom's stance, she wanted to know just why he was saddled up next to Oliver Pierce, talking, laughing, gazing back at a crowd of women....But she was pin-pricked out of the moment by a shotglass being set down hard in front of her. Jerking slightly out of her trance, she cleared her throat at the sight of Mircea -- a thin-framed, delicate looking man of around 60 years, who nonetheless seemed in the best of health, a bit of a Woody Allen look adorning his person. He addressed Dazmond plaintively, as if just having lost his savings in a card game."I need a bottle of your best scotch," she said. "No credit, a straight trade." She recognized quickly the way in which he said her name, stopping him before he could lead into some excuse for denying her her right. "No, No, Mircea, it's worthwhile. Premium absinthe," she said, drawing out the large bottle from her bag. "I can pay off some of my tab tonight. C'mon," she said sweetly. "Help an old crone out?"It took nothing more than that, and a few moments later Daz's bag was packed with top quality scotch fit for a werewolf. Fillin would be pleased, and so was Daz. She grinned at the old shark, thanking him heartily in a song of ridiculous praises. Flaunting her flattery, she would have ruffled his hair, had she been able to reach the top of his head."Alright, I'll be around, chap," she said in fairwell, moving off her perch -- after sinking back in one throw the shotglass of whiskey -- to roam nearer the duo and scope out the territory. But with little more than a second's consideration, she knew she wanted in on whatever it was that brought two such astounding wizards together at once, in such a worthwhile tavern. And so she pulled over a stool, budging it between Oliver and James."Well, well, well," she said, subduing partially a broadened smile. "If it isn't my gents." She didn't mind asking if it was alright if she sat, for she wouldn't especially welcome a negative answer. Instead, she invited herself over to their bushel of gestures, taking a smooth pull from her cigarette and immersing her figure in a cloud of slow-flowing smoke. Sum up your character in one paragraph: Dazmond is a confident, charming femme fatale -- headstrong, impatient, adventurous and quirky. She does whatever it takes to get what she wants. Daz is best known for her ability to brew just about any potion, and is notorious on the Black Market. She steals and flirts to ensure her well-being, among many other tactics. She is a fierce and independent woman with an interest in the Dark Arts, herbology, and potionsmaking. Highly intelligent and discerning, Dazmond Wiedman is a formidable witch who knows when to get her hands dirty. Skip to next post
Dazmond Wiedman: Potions Supplier/Criminal [Biography]