A mutuals only multimuse RP Blog featuring original and canon characters from Dragon Age, Baldur's Gate 3, D&D (and more to come!). Handled by Callisto (Cal, he/they/she), mun & muses 21+
ON SEMI HIATUS (June 18 2026): Due to real life circumstances, all of my RP blogs are on semi- to full hiatus. There might be posts or replies made occasionally, but there are no guarantees on timeliness.
Artifexx - an independent multimuse featuring canon and original characters from Dragon Age, BG3, D&D, with more fandoms to come! Mutuals only and semi-selective. Written by Callisto (Cal), he/him. Muses 18+, Mun 25+.
Rules & Muses
Character Pinterests
Meme Tag
Other blog(s): @khaeryx (original dragon character - multiverse)
Nat dropped from a tree near Amoenus, using her feet to keep themselves still hanging from a branch upside down. "Heyllooo ominous Amoenus! Looking quite upside down today, how fashionable!" She spoke with familiarity even though they'd barely spoken to each other more than maybe three times so far.
She placed a finger to her chin in a thoughtful manner before asking. "Say, have you ever thought about how you'd react to suddenly waking up with a different face?"
One dark eyebrow rose slightly as he side-eyed Nat, but he didn't stop the idle plucking of his lute. Ominous? That was... certainly not a descriptor anyone had ever used for him before. Indeed, most accused him of being too laid back, too quick with his smiles and jokes, and far too casual about any given situation. Most thought that he did not give matters the seriousness they warranted. Hm.
"I'd be sad indeed... I would be mad to not regret losing a face like this one..." Amoenus grinned, sharp white teeth glinting in the light, and he couldn't resist a quick little wink. He was a handsome man, for those who didn't hold tieflings' appearances against them at least. A sad day indeed, if he were to wake up with a different face.
He plucked a few more light notes, "Have you been discontent with your own face? Is that what spurred this question? Thinking of giving yourself a change?"
He was being followed. It was a subtle thing, but Ethan was well versed in spotting things others tended to overlook. Survival had made him observant by necessity and later, his need to keep other people safe had only made it more of one. He would be a poor protector if he led the wolves straight back to the lambs after all. Thus far, his watcher hadn’t made themselves known, but the sensation never left. It lingered the entire time Ethan was at the market, purchasing food and supplies for his latest batch of refugees. They’d be moving on in the morning, and he intended to see them well stocked before they did, but he’d have to lose his unwanted guest first.
Finishing up his purchases, he left the small market and made his way down the main road, appearing to anyone else to be a simple traveler. A well-armed one perhaps, but those were not so rare a sight these days, not since the mess in Kirkwall. Being unarmed would have been the more foolish route for a lone traveler in fact. The road itself was rather empty, a few people passing by on their way to the next town, but it was not the people he could see that worried him. He could not risk turning to check behind him, lest he give himself away, but there should have been…ah, there, to his left was a smaller, lesser used path.
He turned once he reached it, glancing back the way he’d come out of the corner of his eye. There were a few people about, but none that caught his attention. Whoever was following him was better at it then most, and that worried him. Keeping on down the path, he eventually ducked into the trees, no doubt arousing suspicion but there was little else he could do by force the confrontation. Which he did, just as soon as he came into the next clearing.
Hand dropping to the hilt of his blade in warning, he focused his attention where he could almost make out the shape of another person.
“Show yourself,” he demanded. “If there’s something you want from me, I would know what it is.”
He was good, Decimus could give him that. Even average templars were good warriors, but considering their training, vigilance and observational skills in cities or on the road weren't typically a strong suit. They so rarely needed to fight in the 'real world', or against enemies that could truly fight back. He could give credit where it was due. Clearly though, Ethan been away from the Order for some time, if he'd had long enough to actually develop skills outside those he'd trained formally for.
Decimus hadn't decided yet if that would make this introduction better, or worse. They would find out.
"From the looks of things, it's you who would need something, many things. Not I." An Orlesian voice, or at least someone who was educated by Orlesians, but instead of coming from the suspicious shadow before him, this voice was behind. And a quick turn around revealed all.
A man stood in the road, as if he'd been there this whole time. Perhaps he had been. Slightly taller than average, a few inches taller than Ethan himself, garbed in charcoal grey leathers, a wicked looking bow upon his back, and a rather magnificent hat, the long feather in its rim bobbing slightly as he stepped closer.
"I apologize for the theatrics... and the magic..." One gloved hand gestured towards the direction Ethan had been facing, where he'd seen the shadow. An illusion, then. But this man certainly didn't look, sound, or carry himself like any southern mage. "I felt that, perhaps, this was the safest way to initiate a conversation. Certainly more so than in town, at least."
He drew closer now, his gait perhaps suspiciously casual. As if he hadn't a worry at all, despite the danger that Ethan, as a trained warrior, could pose. Confident. "I have been hearing quite a lot about you as of late, Knight-Corporal. Quite a lot, indeed." Stopping before Ethan, that gloved hand came out again, this time clearly to shake Ethan's own. "I am called Decimus. L'ombre du Seigneur." There was no use hiding it, after all. Whether it meant anything to Ethan... well, he supposed that would depend on how well the man had studied, during his training.
Send a 🍓 for random facts about a muse (specify muse, always accepting)
(adding an extra fact since Anders was also sent in by @luna-mxth)
1. Anders is a polyglot! Obviously he speaks Common/Trade, and unsurprisingly, he speaks Ander as well. But he also speaks Orlesian. I headcanon that my muses who've spent time in a Chantry or affiliate organization (Circle mages, templars, etc) know at least some of Orlesian, as I headcanon that the 'official' chant is in that language (not unlike how Catholic services/prayers used to always be done in Latin).
2. While being a self-declared 'cat person', in truth Anders is just an 'animal person'. He likes all animals, including dogs, and they tend to like him too. Maybe they sense his soft spot for him, or they can sense the healing magic in him and know he won't hurt them.
3. Anders is more about magic than melee, when it comes to fighting, but he is not completely helpless without his magic. He isn't trained with most weapons, but he's handy with his staff as a weapon and not just a focus. And he's a very good grappler. Those long arms and legs are good for something, and that something is wrestling. And those limbs are deceptively strong.
4. In his Inquisitor verse, once he actually becomes Inquisitor officially, he does use Inquisition resources for one personal, somewhat selfish reason: he uses them to find out if his family is still alive in rural Ferelden (my Anders' family consisted of his parents, a younger sister, and a younger brother). He doesn't take the steps to meet them or intrude on their lives, he just wants to know if they're still alive (they are).
Send a 🍓 for random facts about a muse (specify muse, always accepting)
(I'll add an extra fact, since this was sent in for both Soren and Baby by @bloodlaurel too)
Soren Amell
1. His hair grows very quickly. When he leaves the Circle during the Blight (either from being recruited or during A Broken Circle in his rarely used non-Warden companion verse), his hair is cut relatively short, a few inches on top with an undercut. By the time the Blight is over (6-12 months later), it reaches just below his jaw, and he keeps one half of his head shaved down for a while. It varies in length after that, depending on what he's doing and what he feels like, from short to shoulder length.
2. While becoming a Warden and traveling so much during the Blight is rough living (camping living + fluctuating food supply + all the fighting), Soren actually gains nearly 50lbs (~22.5kgs) during the Blight year, almost entirely in muscle, thanks to the huge leap in physical activity, and increase in protein intake. He ate more meat during that year than he had in the previous 4+ years in the Circle combined (they didn't starve them at Kinloch, but meat is expensive, especially when you're feeding a couple hundred people every day).
3. Soren has heterochromia, one eye is brown, the other is blue. Being half-elven, he also has eye shine, and has better night vision than most humans. In addition, his canine teeth, both top and bottom, as ever so slightly elongated and slightly sharper (a feature my full elven characters share as well, regardless of which fandom/universe they come from).
Baby below cut cause length
Baby Hawke
1. Baby lost his left eye at the age of 13, to a templar that tried to take him and Bethany in after spying them using magic. He lost his eye to the templar's boot knife, but managed to kill the templar and take Bethany safely home. His father Malcolm was able to heal the socket for the most part, but the eye itself was gone. He wears an eyepatch almost all of the time, and owns more than a dozen in different styles and a few different colors. It's very rare that he allows someone to see the scarring beneath the eye patch, to the point of typically wearing it to sleep if he is camping/traveling with others.
2. In his default universe (that is, neither I nor my writing partner are writing him), Baby actually kills Sebastian at the end of Act 3. When Sebastian demands Anders' immediate execution moments after the Chantry explosion, and then threatens both Anders and Baby when he refuses to do so... Baby doesn't allow Sebastian to stomp off to start planning just that. He simply puts him in a Crushing Prison, and puts his staff blade straight through Sebastian's neck. Baby is extremely anti-Chantry, and believes Elthina got what she deserved.
3. Baby will be forever impatient with anyone who cuts or tries to cut his hair. It's usually just a shaggy mess anyway, but it does need occasional trimming, and he is a giant child about it. He hates the feeling of those little pieces of hair strands that come down and no matter if he's wearing a drape or not, always seem to get under his shirt collar and in his ears, itching awfully.
His logic made sense but still Jasper felt like it was a bit of an insane move to declare yourself outright like that. He had no doubt Leliana would have cracked that wide open in the same amount of time it took him to finish his tankard. On reflection, that probably would have been worse for Bull than simply putting it out there in the beginning.
So to that point he simply shrugged and asked the follow up:
"And Par Vollen are just going to let you do that? They're not going to be pissed that you essentially offered yourself up without even trying to pretend you're not a spy."
He figured that they would be. He knew he would be if one of his, or rather Leliana's, spies did the same. Who knew what valuable information could be getting leaked. Information that could be used eventually in another Exalted March to finally get rid of the Qunari for good the same way the elves had been broken so many centuries before.
Bull laughed heartily, "Par Vollen enjoys my successes way too much to have much of an opinion on just how I achieve them. I don't go around telling people about the important stuff, stuff that affects our own safety and security, that's all they really care about."
With a few more large swallows, his enormous tankard was empty, thudding dully as he set it down on the table beside him, using the back of his free hand to make sure his mouth and chin were free from ale foam.
"When they really care about a spy being a secret, they use spies the same way Orlais or Antiva does -- they get ones that blend in, folks that can go around unnoticed. I don't know if you could tell, but I kinda stand out." One meaty shoulder lifted in a casual shrug, "'Sides, they have a vested interest in the Inquisition's success. We don't want to live under some Darkspawn Magister, either. And getting the Antaam this far south would be an expensive undertaking." Not that it hadn't already been considered though, Bull was sure.
"How would you have gone about it? If you were in my place. Would you just lay it out there like I did? Or try to slip one by, and hope you don't get strung up if they find out?"
Send a 🍓 for random facts about a muse (specify muse, always accepting)
Decimus
1. His 'given name', the name he went by before becoming 'Decimus', was Claude Ordures. It was the name given to him upon arrival at the Chantry orphanage. The particular location where he was raised was controlled with an iron fist by an older Mother who believed that suffering in its many forms was, in its own way, a holy thing, as Andraste suffered.
And so his name was a deliberate cruelty - 'Claude', because it was one of the most common given names in Orlais at the time, and 'Ordures', which means (quite literally) 'garbage'. A reminder for him to remain humble, because he was, from his birth, something that was just thrown away.
Years later, after becoming Decimus, he took particular pleasure in shutting down that orphanage, and forcing that Mother to retire from active service. He makes it a personal mission to ensure no Chantry he comes across preaches or practices that particular message.
2. On a lighter note, Decimus is a beautiful dancer. He's got a great ear for rhythm, and is light and elegant on his feet.
Mahanon Lavellan
1. His hair is long. And I mean long long. It's nearly 4 feet (121cm) long. And as he stands himself at 5'7" (~170cm), it seems even longer, proportionally. It's a rich, golden blonde, and quite thick, very heavy.
In Skyhold, it's usually just kept in a simple braid, but in the field, he keeps it in two braided buns at the base of his skull to keep it from getting in the way, and to keep enemies from being able to grab it.
2. Though he was resistant to shoes at first, Josephine won Mahanon over to the dark shoe side by introducing him to fur lined slippers. He became addicted to having warm feet.
The dressing down the agent that brought Anders to her in shackles would become legendary; he was a wanted criminal... by the Chantry. They were by no means the Chantry, and for goodness' sake, he didn't look well enough to remain shackled for long. The anger Sontna had initially felt at him all those years ago had faded or become redirected to those more directly responsible, but there was still a distance between them, the friendship between them feeling more like an aching memory.
Regardless of what he'd done, though, he'd returned to her life. She released him, ordered a meal and new clothes brought to her quarters for him.
"I'm not going to let my organization treat you that way. I'm still your friend, Anders."
She looked at him, really looked. He looked like he was waiting to be struck, like at any moment she would throw him in the dungeon. The bruises on his wrist were obvious, and he'd clearly not improved his self-care habits. Slowly, Sontna sat next to him gently taking one of his wrists and using a healing spell he'd taught her to fade the bruises.
"They don't love me." She didn't meet his eyes as she spoke. She didn't care if the Chantry and nobility loved her or not, so long as she could do her job. "I'm a dangerous apostate at best. But I'm useful... the only one who can close the breach. As soon as I do I'll be a threat or an obstacle, and they will turn on me."
She did look up at his last assertion, and his words drew a soft snort from her. There was a note of fondness in her voice when she spoke.
"We have real healers." She paused, as if weighing her options. "But I suppose we could always use another."
He snorted, a bit rudely perhaps, but maybe he could be given some grace for it. He looked, and surely felt, truly exhausted, half-starved and undoubtedly ill from... whatever it was he'd been getting up to, these last few years.
"Snake oil and leeches," he sniffed, though not entirely unkindly. Maker, some of his own treatments used snake oil. Alchemy and basic first aid was useful, lifesaving even. But even so, "How many spirit healers does the Inquisition actually have? Hm?" Few, if any, he already knew the answer.
Sontna could heal, he'd seen to that himself years ago, in Kirkwall. And in fact, many mages were capable of some lighter healing spells here and there. They were useful things to learn as an apprentice, when the risk of injury from your own magic was higher. But dedicated healers, spirit healers, they were fewer and further between even before the Circles fell. They were practically non-existent now, either falling to templars, kept by nobles, or in hiding.
Anders didn't know the Inquisition's actual staff or enlistment information, but from what little he'd gleaned from rumors, and conversations he'd overheard from guards and servants, most of the healers of the Inquisition were of the mundane variety, herbalists and perhaps some field surgeons. Useful to be sure, and certainly better than nothing, but... well, perhaps it would be conceited to think that it was not nearly to the level of a spirit healer's power, but it was true.
"I could teach them, though. The Inquisition's mages. Some of them, anyway. Get the Inquisition some real healers."
Send a 🍓 for random facts about a muse (specify muse, always accepting)
1. Darian tends to have a dry sense of humor, when he actually shows any humor, but he secretly loves puns. The more terrible the pun, the better.
2. He really enjoys 'handy work', repairing things. Fallen stitches, ripped seams, split leather, pulled or rusted chain, broken wagon wheels, he likes being able to make something usable and even pretty again, if he can.
And he's pretty good at it. He hasn't had any special training, just a lot of practice, and general aptitude. If he had been born in a stable home, in a village or city, he likely would have gone into a trade like carpentry or blacksmithing instead of mercenary/fighting work.
3. His handwriting is atrocious. Seriously, 'chicken scratch' would be extremely charitable. The bard Amoenus (another of my muses who has connection to Darian) calls it 'an assault on literacy'.
A dis.co drop since I went back to my old dis.cord name. If you add, just let me know who you are (unless it's clear by the user name). Mutuals only etc.
Wanting to write, but having to wait for the endless stream of fireworks to stop so I can think more than 10 seconds ahead (it's been an hour and fifteen minutes so far without any pauses, from different houses... and yes, fireworks are illegal in my state!)
i don't plan on staying. hearing that should've brought relief. instead, it brought a confused, stilted feeling. if it hadn't been for darian, he'd currently be on the way to his father — to the knife and rock in the forest.
briar started to answer before he had an answer, making him splutter. “ i- i'll go- find a- hmm. ” he swallowed. he had a split second to lie or tell the truth. “ i, ah . . . i most likely will. i j- just need to . . . consult with some people. ”
perhaps the avowed would have other ideas? or if he was leaving, should he tell them why so they could be prepared if his father came knocking? he needed to think. gods, he hated this.
“ i, ah . . . i d- doubt you'd be accosted. if that's why you're leaving, i mean. i- i can just tell them the truth. that you helped me. you'd b- be given more hospitality than before. ”
he was rushing this, trying to get the half-elf to stay without thinking it through. but if briar was going to abandon the keep, then it'd be nice if he wasn't running into the unknown alone. he'd done that before and it'd been a dark chapter in his life.
"I'm not worried about their hospitality," It took some effort to keep the edge off of his own voice, but he tried at least. This Briar seemed like the slightest noise or movement would cause him to freeze or perhaps faint with fright. Overly excitable, and overly nervous, Darian had met the type before.
"Are you afraid of those robes' reactions to you leaving or something? Unless you've got a contract or something with them to work, I'm sure you can just leave if you want to. Might not get a recommendation, maybe, but other than that..." It was an opening for him, right there. An invitation to state his real plans, or at least his desire for a plan, before natural conversation would move onward and spoil the moment.
Darian was no mind reader, nor was he overly kind, by his own estimation, but he knew people. He'd dealt with so many over the years, so many jobs, so many companies, so many targets. He was pretty sure he'd met every type of person there could be. And some things were obvious, even to men like him.
