Dagr
(#19942512)
Master of Academics
Steinarr
Which Waychunk
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Water.
Male Coatl
This dragon is hibernating.
Expand the dragon details section.
Collapse the dragon details section.
Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
8.07 m
Wingspan
8.19 m
Weight
716.52 kg
Genetics
Charcoal
Python
Python
Purple
Sludge
Sludge
Ice
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Coatl
Max Level
STR
115
AGI
8
DEF
10
QCK
66
INT
5
VIT
37
MND
5
Biography
Dagr Lyreson
| __ |
__ With the nervous disposition of a crackhead squirrel, an unfortunate genetic disposition, and an (un)reasonable case of paranoia, Dagr is not well suited to a warrior clan. Therefore he did, of course, settle down with a warrior clan. Yeah, nobody else really gets it, either. One of life's many mysteries. Easily wound up and not quite as easily wound down, Dagr is caught in an eternal cycle of worrying about nothing—he makes it work, though. He channels his hysterical energy into writing, scribbling down everything he's heard at alarming speed, and it's the number one reason he's been as productive as he has. Is it good for him? Probably not. And this maniacal lizard is, indeed, the Master of Academics, which is probably exclusively because his memory is a force to be reckoned with. The amount of information stored in his fuzzy little skull could put the finest libraries to shame. |
___
 ╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮ the Master of Academics Historian Acclaimed Author ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ | __ |
| __ |
Who's that dragon having a meltdown in the dining room because a spider crawled over his foot? It's Dagr! Some say that his true skill in life is freaking out and, honestly, they might be right. Did he misplace his goggles? Hysterical. Is the temperature of his den a little too low? Panic. Did Steinarr fall asleep on his pen? O love, the world will end. It's always the worst case scenario. On the flip side, he calms down as fast as he freaks out, and his quicksilver moods are a phenomenon. Not, like a cool phenomenon, just a phenomenon. Nobody can quite figure it out. His panic reaches as peak and immediately pummels and, just like that, Dagr is entirely calm again. And then he panics about something else. The cycle continues, eternal. But he has gotten better over the years. Verandi bullies him into her clinic regularly and beats some breathing exercises into his skull, and someone running late doesn't immediately send him into a fit because what if they fell over a cliff?!? Now he panics, but quietly. Calmly. Yes, you read that right, and yes that is contradictory. In the end, his nerves simply aren't that sturdy. Because, at the end of the day—if someone's panicking, it's probably Dagr. Possibly Mimir. | __ |
| __ |
  
|
__ » Leaves flowers on the grave of his old companion every Sunday, and always at exactly six in the morning, like clockwork. » Genuine phobia of all things insect. His den is probably the cleanest environment in the entire mountain due to his obsessive hunt for bugs. » Has the uncanny ability to know when the sun is out, even if he's lingering in the deepest tunnels. His weather predictions as whole tend to be on point. | __ |
| __ |
Ever since he was a wee little Dagr-boy, he dreamed of writing books. Telling stories, collecting stories, immortalizing history in ways that would be interesting for even the smallest hatchling. And he was well suited for it, too. Boasting an outstanding memory, Dagr was able to remember nigh on everything he hear or saw, and could retell a tale word for word after hearing it only once. The only problem was that in his overtly stressed state, things got jumbled, but a long, calm moment of sorting his mind usually hammered it all back into place. The general gist of things was that Dagr's dream and his blessed memory worked stunningly well together. He was uniquely suited to write down the histories and tales of those around him, equipped with a memory that let him remember all the odd tales and myths he heard as he wandered through the world. When his family settled at an Inn for the night, Dagr soaked up all the gossip around him, and he spent his nights scribbling it down for later. He would build an archive of all the things he'd heard, he decided, and that was the dream he left home to pursue. And more so than that, Dagr sought history. It intrigued him, had him constantly thirsting for more, and he spent a fair bit of time travelling (and panicking) in strange, new places full of unknown history. Abandoned lairs, ruins, tales passed down from family to family; it all went into his notebooks. He wanted more, and more, and more. Dagr was a bit of a historian, really, even though he wouldn't take on that title until joining Valhall some years later. Times were hard, times were good; Dagr kept chugging along. He made it work. Dagr stumbled and fell, failed and won, and he freaked out. A lot. But at his core, Dagr was a fighter, because he did not give up. The Fates wanted to knock him down and Dagr got up, sometimes entirely out of spite. He's worked hard to drag himself through life. Most dragons struggled enough as is, for the world is unkind and harsh, and Dagr fought the world and insurmountable hysterical anxiety. Eventually, he ran across Týr, and the two chatted. It had been storming, true Fimbulvetr, and most sane dragons hid inside to wait it out. "I told you I would, Lyreson. This weather is not one I fear," the Mirror had told him. “Then I’d wager you’re mad,” Dagr told him in turn. Týr had smiled, amused. “I’ll take that wager. If I don’t die, of course, and we meet again, I’ll tell you all about it.” They met again. Týr did, in fact, tell him all about it, and Dagr was overjoyed at getting to write it all down. His claws had cramped, back aching, but he'd written down dozens of pages about what would be the beginnings of Valhall. And Dagr kept going, on and on, until he had given himself the task of documenting the tales of Valhall and her many members. His biggest project to date; a marriage of his love for history and his true passion; writing. As time went on, Dagr kept gathering stories. He stood out as one of the foremost experts on Icefields history, particularly the southernmost regions, and plans to write a book about it one day. Until he can get there, he writes all the other books he wanted to read himself once upon a time, shorter novels about fantastical heroes and adventure, or little tales for the hatchlings to enjoy when the weather is particularly harsh. He shares his creativity whenever he can. And when he panics after sharing his latest writing, he staunchly blames on his genetics rather than squaring up to the fact that its his own issue to deal with. Because, at the end of the day, does it truly matter where the problem comes from? | __ |
| __ |
|
M I M I R With much in common, it was natural they crossed paths. And the friendship that followed surprised none. Sharing passions such as books, knowledge, and creativity, they never struggle for topics to chat about and the Bibliotheca is nigh on their second home. Their wild stress levels match up fairly well, too, and Mimir is one of very few to ever have seen Dagr calm. | __ |
| __ |
|
A A S M U N D If there's one thing Aasmund is, it's frustrating, and he's not one of Dagr's favourite dragons. Which is what he claims, and what might have been true, but time has made him fond of the terror that is Aasmund. Not that he'll admit it, of course. Dagr will swear he hates the guy, but he'll still sit with him at dinner and share the newest gossip, like always. | __ |
| __ |
|
J Ö R Ð Jörð was a creature of anger, which would not usually mesh well with Dagr's hysteria. But she was also an avid reader and aspiring author herself, which made it natural for her to seek apprenticeship with one of the few Valhallan authors there was—Dagr. She spends a few hours a day with him, chatting, and then they write until the sun sets. It's nice. | __ |
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
Feed this dragon Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
You can share this dragon on the forums by either copying the browser URL manually, or using bbcode!
Exalting Dagr to the service of the Icewarden will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
Do you wish to continue?
- Names must be longer than 2 characters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.