DEATH MAGE.

— with all the fates & shades & the river passing through.

[deathbind]

#DEATHBIND. Say that the limits of language are the world's limits, that the limits of my language are my world's limits, and that when I speak, I limit the world, I finish it. And one inevitable and mysterious day, death will come and abolish these limits, and there will be no questions nor answers. It will all be a blur. But if by chance things come into focus again, it may only be with the advent of conscience. Everything will follow from there.

This is an independent roleplaying blog for Serot, an OC for DND / BG3. Featuring a homebrew nation on the continent of Zakhara. Dragon Age crossover verse available.

guidelines // biography // verses // important metas + hcs // aesthetic sideblog

My name's Holly! I go by she / her & they / them pronouns. My discord is available to mutuals upon request. A list of my blogs can be found here. — ACTIVITY NOTICE

[deathbind]

( codex entries // accepting ) SOLAS [ @hoboblaidd ] WROTE: ❝The wind that stirs their shallow graves carries their song.❞

THE SUN HAD NOT YET set on the Hissing Wastes. Though it sank ever lower on the horizon, it still scorched the sands like molten gold. Perhaps they could withstand the heat for the few hours left til nightfall, but they would deplete their water stores and risk their health unnecessarily. He remembered when these lands were lush and verdant. Desirable, even. He’d heard of more than one war to claim them. It had taken only one war to render them desolate: the Second Blight. Now sands purple as a bruise stretched farther than the eye could see. To think one could best blightlands was a special sort of foolishness.

A sort of which he, Solas, and the rest of the party were blessedly not afflicted. The others may as well sleep til it was cool enough to move.

❝One has to wonder if it’s a song we’re meant to hear.❞ He traced his finger idly around the rim of a cup at his side. It was unassuming thing: smooth, polished brass devoid of all adornments. It wouldn’t fetch more than a silver or two at market, but one attuned to the Fade as Solas was would sense it was more than it appeared. Serot had used it to commune with spirits more times than he could count. The only question was whether they ought to try it here. There was no telling what secrets they might uncover — and no telling if they were better left buried.

❝What do you think? Come across anything interesting when you walked the Fade?❞ Assuming he'd walked the Fade when it was their turn to sleep. Serot honestly didn't know whether a Somniari would have a choice. He himself hadn't dreamed in centuries. Now he only touched the Fade when a spirit reached out to him.

[deathbind]

[doubled for size] The real reason Serot can't have glasses in his first lifetime — aside from them not being invented — is Meresankh would've done this to him. More than once

[deathbind]

I truly have. the barest bones for a Star Trek verse. Smth about Serot being the first Trill to join with a symbiont aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaages ago. Therefore also laid the foundation for the Guardians. Then in whatever timeline we wanna throw him in, we’ll say there was some?? crisis?? maybe something affecting the pools or that otherwise placed them in danger of losing all the symbionts — SOMETHING they believed they needed Serot to fix. So they coerced his symbiont’s current host, Neheb, to undergo a modified Rite of Emergence. The idea was to not simply allow Neheb to communicate individually with Serot but to have Serot take over the body temporarily. Except this fucked up and Serot’s totally in control but his memory is shattered at best and he can’t really reach out to the memories of other hosts (including Neheb, who is now sublimated in his own body).

How do I involve him with any of the shows/movies? Your guess is as good as mine.

[deathbind]

I give up. I'm never making him in DA:TV sadfkh

[deathbind]

I have spent all this time trying to figure out how Frosty editor works

[deathbind]

There's something about the fact that you not only get Hawke's armor in DA:TV but they added a face paint that could pass for one of Hawke's

[deathbind]

Serot’s personal quest in DA:O is to find some damn glasses

[deathbind]

#my poor near sighted little dead man #he’s not reborn with glasses in this verse #so if it’s not at the end of his nose he can’t see nothin #I like to think he picks up a pair in Orzammar #they weren’t invented in his first lifetime so when someone finds him a pair in Orzammar #he’s surprised_pikachu.png #cue a banter with Alistair probably ‘if your eyesight’s so bad how do you know where you’re aiming’ #Serot: practice #Alistair: you mean that you’ve practiced a lot or that this is practice #Serot: you know I really don’t remember

[deathbind]

Alright I'm gonna go fight with DA:TV to see if I can get that glasses mod to work

[deathbind]

There's no point to this. I just want y'all to look at him.

[deathbind]

Oh the little blue checkmarks are weirding me out

[deathbind]

I’m sitting here realizing it’s actually more important to Serot to smell nice. If he has to pick between an immaculate fit and smelling incredible, he will go for the scent

[deathbind]

In addition to clothing, it's very important to me y'all know Serot is perfumed the fuck up whenever possible. And I mean, perfumed. Clothing stored with scented sachets kind of perfumed. Bathes with scented soaps, applies scented oils to his hair, rubs scented lotion into his skin kind of perfumed. Layers a few different literal perfumes to achieve a unique blend kind of perfumed. You will smell him before you see him.

[deathbind]

STARTING EQUIPMENT: DA EDITION.

I wanted to make a version of this post focusing on his DA verse. His DA verse differs from his usual canon in that there's no cycle of reincarnation and he's more being resurrected than reborn. This means he starts off with nothing except the skin on his back. Bare as the day he was born. Obviously, he does not stay that way.

DA:O.

Serot may be confused about a great many things after his resurrection, but he is certain of two items: he is not the famed Hector, and he does not like this cult. They attempted to arm him at first, but they deemed that unwise after he attempted to escape. When the Warden finds him, he is wearing the same tunic and trousers commonly seen on Haven's villagers. However, he's been left with socks to warm his feet but no shoes as well as no outerwear (i.e. cloak). This is to discourage escape.

He swaps this for light armor and a short sword as soon as possible. By the time the Blight ends, he is fitted in a set of light drakeskin armor (made by Wade himself) and an unpretentious shortsword. This is the sort of gear he's accustomed to, and he finds it far more practical than robes and a staff. It has the added benefit of not immediately outing him as a mage. He's figured out people get a bit touchy about all that. He was also gifted a pair of glasses by Orzammar's king. He had no idea his eyesight was that atrocious . . .

DAII.

The above-mentioned drakeskin armor and shortsword follow Serot to Kirkwall. Walking around in armor constantly is a great way to put a target on your back, though. He adapts to the local fashion while staying there. As he finds the puff-sleeved doublets so often sported by the upper echelons to be, frankly, silly, he leans more toward the shirt + vest + trousers ensemble. He enjoys color in his wardrobe but has such a strong preference for soft blues that it becomes a running joke. Another identifying feature is embroidery; he rents a room from a widow who happily stitches traditional Kirkwall motifs onto his clothing. He insists on paying for her work despite her insistence she'd do it for the joy of it.

DA:I.

His return to Nevarra marked a major overhaul in his wardrobe. For one, he was able to sport Nevarran styles once again. It's much changed from his day — you know, a millennium ago — but is still more suited to his aesthetic sense than what he wore in Ferelden and Kirkwall. He also finds himself inundated with gifts: some wishing to honor a living anointed and some wishing to buy favor. He is discerning in what he accepts. He does not so much "reject" offerings as exhort people to be generous toward their neighbors. Framing is key.

Nevertheless, this is when he ends up in an ensemble closer to his starting attire in DND. The key difference is it's not gravegoods; it is meant to respectfully invoke the traditional attire of the Mortalitasi's prelate in order to honor his past service. (Not to mention how that association benefits the Mortalitasi themselves.) I'll simply bring over the description:

Sandals made of intricately woven leather cover his feet. His sserual and galabeya are of peerless cotton, and his kaftan, hizan, and djubbeh over top are fine silk. The ensemble is dyed in patterns of indigo and white embroidered with golden thread. Someone with an eye for enchantments will notice magic woven into the fabric[...] Serot is adorned in golden jewelry set with gems, primarily lapis lazuli and turquoise. Earrings, bracelets, armlets, anklets, belts, necklaces, finger and toe rings [...] Like his clothing, each item is enchanted, and like his clothing, the enchantments are meant to preserve the items. There are two exceptions: On his left thumb sits a simple, broad brass band. This unassuming adornment is a ring of spell storing. In the past, this has been where he's kept spells suited to combat. He'd learned the hard way it was best to be prepared. The most impressive piece is a broad golden necklace from which blooms a lapis lazui lotus flanked by turquoise scarabs. This utterly unique piece is known as the Kheprer's Collar*. Should he be downed in combat, the scarabs will come to life and defend him. Should he be killed, they will likewise awaken and defend his corpse from desecration. Unfortunately, they aren't always able to tell friend from foe.

Obviously, this isn't his only outfit, but it gives you an idea of what he's wearing in this period. When he slips away from Nevarra, though, he's in a simple white cotton outfit common in Nevarra. He exchanges outfits in Orlais and Ferelden as he makes his way to Haven: usually some variation of shirt and trousers common among everyday people in plain colors. He will always stick out to some degree, but well . . . he convinces himself it helps. (It doesn't.)

That having been said, he did bring the set of drakeskin armor he's had since DA:O (it's quality gear), an exquisitely forged short sword, and a few practical pieces of enchanted jewelry. And once they move to Skyhold, some of the wardrobe he'd accumulated in Nevarra is sent to him or retrieved during visits. He overall favors the less pretentious pieces, but sometimes a guy needs a flashy outfit. This is especially true when he visits the Winter Palace. He will wear the Inquisition's uniform if that's the plan. Otherwise, he's in more of the outfit described in the quoted paragraphs. Even where the uniform is concerned, he will personalize it with his jewelry — and the sash, if permitted.

DA:TV.

Frankly, he looks terrible when Rook finds him. He wears his well-tended drakeskin armor and his excellent short sword, but he has been wandering ceaselessly for Heaven knows how long. It's a soul deep weariness radiating off him. His gear was all he was able to bring with him, and so that is all he has worn. When someone suggests he change into something more comfortable at the Lighthouse, he has to explain he doesn't have anything else. Their next outing definitely involves a shopping detour to find himself some casual clothes. He loves a sky blue or sage green cotton galabeya, preferably with a striped pattern. Sandals rather than boots as well.

[deathbind]

Every time Serot tries to dress in an unassuming manner, I just have to laugh. Man has a glowing tattoo on his forehead.

[deathbind]

Y'know what it's actually tempting to push back Serot's birthyear simply so he can die before Maferath was revealed as a traitor

[rainystarters]

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪🗡ྀ࿔ 〖 stories and songs . . . 〗 a collection of sentence starters inspired by various codex entries from the dragon age rpg series. some prompts usfw. adjust details as necessary.

the wind that stirs their shallow graves carries their song.

heed our words, hear our cry.

oh, fair damsel of the garden!

surely your work is far too vital to be interrupted by one like me.

i was a fool to pluck that flower.

you are not a man known for your honor.

you allowed me to live once, and so now i do the same for you.

i am humbled by your words.

but some things cannot be repent.

there is something in here with us.

death is certain, either way.

you have been my rock and my shield.

strike true, do not waver. and let not your prey suffer.

as the sapling bends, so must you.

you are lost, and soon you will fade.

go forth and claim the empty throne of heaven.

you have brought doom upon the world.

magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.

they shall find no rest in this world or beyond.

there is but one truth.

all things in this world are finite.

each night in dreams you may always remember me.

the light shall lead you safely.

i am but your faithful servant.

if blood must be shed and used, so be it.

step away from this folly, before it consumes us all.

i long to dance with you beneath the moonlight.

do not despair. for it is not you, it is of me.

my most heartfelt apologies for the ripped bodice.

such depravity i have never been forced to suffer!

let them hunt, and dread finding me.

truth will hold you for that is what truth does.

i shouldn't have doubted your resolve.

please accept my humble apologies.

in truth, it is i who has been most vulnerable.

the seals are already weakening.

it must be protected at all costs.

of unknown metal and magic keen, a finer blade there's never been.

any army is only as good as its equipment.

blessed by the vine in spring, i shall not fear the winter's sting.

only fools ignore the history of the ground they walk and the people they meet.

i could use an extra pair of eyes to keep watch at night.

i hope they found peace.

blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

in blood, my will is written.

we are forever in your graces.

the oath you have taken is all but broken.

can you be forgiven when the cold grave has come?

once we raised up our chalice in victory.

why change the past when you can own this day?

the wolves are our allies.

always keep an eye out for the noble owl.

nothing burns like the first cup.

gallows master, hold they hand. hold it back awhile.

look away, look into the sun.

you know we all are dying.

alas, i cannot stay.

we'll beat down the bastard, and then we'll get plastered!

what of the old secrets the burn in our hearts?

now we pray for a dawn that will never arrive.

but it is our blood he seeks.

you will realize the smiles are false, and behind them lies revenge.

for all your fancy intrigue, you have spent your life creating nothing of worth.

it moves on without you, uncaring.

who could bear the weight of a people destroyed by his hand?

what was your vision of our purpose?

so buy the lads a round.

i'm ashore for the night and seeking company.

i'd still rather die.

why be what i am when i can be more?

have you threatened to cut out anyone's tongue today?

for have i not grown in skill and measure?

binding a demon of higher power is dangerous...

let it be my choice to have served and died.

i'm not staying to watch you die like a fool.

the undead you have been fighting are people i killed with my own hands.

here is my soul, trapped in a cage of bone.

turn around, face the shadows. don't blink.

just going to lie here for a while.

chopping off their heads should do the trick.

i am empty, filled with nothing.

arrogance becomes our end.

i'm here to die. but i won't go quietly.

i don't want to die like this.

cry for the past; only there does glory dwell.

so the forest grows, a reflection of our might.

mourn the past and all that was left there.

mastery of the self is mastery of the world.

suffering is choice and we can refuse it.

pride disguises itself in its surety.