The peace that formerly reigned in Terra Nova has eroded, now little more than a memory. War ravages the continent. Disputes divide kingdoms; ideals divide families. The quest for power consumes absolutely and indiscriminately. None are immune to its allure.
Who will rise and who will fall? Only time—and ambition—will tell.
UPDATES
05.26.2023
2 month character creation hold for all existing members begins 6/5/2023. Ended 8/5/2023.
10.29.2023
Change in how times flows. Was 4 IC seasons, now only 2 IC seasons per 1 OOC year.
5 whole years of Heir Apparent goodness! When I started the site, I knew I was hunkering down for the long haul, but I never could have predicted the numerous twists and turns this roleplay site has seen. Hundreds of plots, characters, and members have come and gone, all leaving marks on the site. I am so very thankful for those who have invested. Because you keep coming back, keep getting on, and keep writing, Heir Apparent has the legacy it does today. Three cheers to us!
Another Aestas had come and gone and once more they were all herded to Tribute like cattle. The location might have changed, but the overwhelming sense of dread and anxiety was always the same. The last two years had been rough. She'd just managed skirt by with her offers and receive the marks that ran so much deeper than the skin. She carried a heavy weight on her back as she filed in with the rest. In glancing around, she recognized many faces but knew most of them very little. The only person her eyes did seek out was Ermir, though she couldn't find him in the crowd. She wondered if he'd figured out a proper tribute. If he and his children would be safe for another year. It hadn't been long ago that she'd met him, but he felt like the best of them all. Better than her, at the very least.
She was more confident this year than she had been in the last two. Her gifts finally felt worthy, as sick as it made her to give them up to the savages who had ravaged her people and their lands. What choice was there though, really? Having no marks only meant it was harder to help people.
Xanthe and Savi were quiet as they entered the room and found a spot somewhere in the middle of the crowd, the Maned Wolf larger than many of the children who had been carried along with their parents. They waited patiently, watching. Surely there was a shared sickness at the sight of one of their own betraying them, but the sacrifice of a loved one felt even heavier. Blue-green eyes were cast down to meet those of her dyrs, refusing to watch the girls death and awaiting her inevitable turn to present.
The next Dresmond approached them and Adeline's eyes quickly ran over @fintan and the woman he carried in his arms. He kinda looked like he was going to throw up. She sincerely hoped he didn't, she didn't really want to deal with that today.
But he only spoke, saying that he was offering up his sister to them. Adeline raised an eyebrow, looking at the feeble woman in his arms. "Her? You're offering her to us? What good is a sick woman to us? It looks like she can't even stand on her own." She glanced over to Elena briefly, her eyebrow still raised. She had not paid much attention at previous tributes, but surely there was no point in taking someone who was just going to die in a short amount of time.
Post by Hiram Eldouir on Sept 26, 2022 13:38:21 GMT -5
Elena didn't even need to glance back at Adeline. The younger woman was reflecting her thoughts exactly.
"Ew." Was all she said, and then she waved her hand for the two of them to leave. No mark. No success. No doubt sending the man off to deal with all the emotions surrounding having attempting to offer up his own sister.
Hiram's gaze lingered on the sick woman, not with interest, but with curiosity.
No mark. Luka held her breath. In the pockets of her jacket, her hands clenched into balled-up fists.
She waited just long enough for the Dresmondi at the altar to turn toward the crowd before sticking one foot out in front of the other. Her body followed a second later and, just like that, she was walking. Forward. Toward the table. And the Eldouirs behind it. Under the brim of her hat, her eyes locked onto the surface of the table. She didn’t look up at @fintan as she traded places with him, nor did she look back at Kit or Ermir. What good would it do, anyway?
Instead, Luka walked herself up to the table, stopped and reached for her hat. Grem circled overhead, wings trembling in the breeze.
Dark, coppery red curls fell in a springy mess around her shoulders before she clenched her teeth and looked up at the two of them. @adeline and Elena. She knew her names, but up close, she couldn’t tell which was which. Not that it mattered.
Her weight shifted from one foot to the other just before the truth fell out of her mouth, hard and fast and unprepared. “I don’t have anything to give. Not really. All I ever had was me.” Her shoulders lifted and fell in a tight shrug. “So that’s what I’m giving. Me.”
Me.
Holding her hat in one hand at her side, Luka looked up at them with a hard brow scrunched over uncertain eyes and a tight jaw. She knew she should have said more. Asked to join them or something. Or told them how much she wanted to be one of them, she bet they’d like that. But the words got stuck in her throat, tripping over her own insecurities until her hat was shaking in her hand and the truth was spilling incoherently out of her mouth.
'This is Tribute is it not?' Tana burst out in Fintan's head, he was shocked yes but the fact of the matter was his sister had passed moments ago. He was turning and leaving when the other Dresmondi was walking forward and he heard her quickly offering herself....he looked back between them all.
"You can offer yourself?" Fintan asked rhetorically before just tucking his sister up against him.
Last Edit: Sept 29, 2022 5:04:08 GMT -5 by Deleted
Adeline's eyes finally lit with interest as the next Dresmondi stepped forward and then removed her hat, allowing all to see the beautiful red curls underneath. Adeline leaned forward, her eyes roving, assessing. "How interesting. Do you not have an animal? No element?" she asked, not seeing the small bat flying overhead.
"Regardless, there is certainly plenty we could do with you. Perhaps you'll have a gift show yet and you're just a late bloomer due to your Dresmond blood." Her eyes seemed to sparkle even more as ideas floated through her mind, and then it was gone just as quickly. Adeline shrugged, sitting back in her seat again. "One brand, I say, since your living situation is undoubtedly going to improve."
Kit reached to take hold of Luka's clothing, to stop her, but he was too late. His hand grabbed at air, and he watched in silent fear as she addressed their redheaded captors. It had not occurred to him that she shared their color. He knew his Luka through and through and there was nothing similar about her and them. She was good and valiant and a hero. They were mean and angry and oppressive. Only now, for the first time in the last five years, did he realize that she looked more like them than she did like Dresmondi. Her mane of red joined a chorus that only they could sing, and Kit stared helplessly as he felt the loss of what he held dearest to himself: his friend.
Post by Hiram Eldouir on Sept 29, 2022 20:03:07 GMT -5
There was no doubt about it: the appearance of a redhead from among the Dresmondi drew eyes. Not only Eldouir eyes, but the eye of every Dresmondi in that space, as her hat had shielded most of them from the knowledge of Luka's truth: she was Eldouir. There was no denying it. She was no longer a friend of Dresmondi, if she had ever been. Unfortunately, she also wasn't one of them.
Hiram's golden gaze on her was flat and unimpressed. They'd had an estate littered with redheads just as useless as this one. He knew blood, and he was learning magic in blood. Hers was painfully silent. If there was a magical buzz in it then it was so weak it wasn't worth acknowledging.
Elena was far more interested. She stood from her throne and moved towards her, green eyes lit with curiosity. She would reach out her hand, palm up, as if to reach for the woman, but instead she reached with her gift, and Luka would feel her arm move, whether she wanted it to or not.
"She has no marks." Elena commented, gaze flickering over the woman with a kind of hunger. "As she shouldn't, for we don't mark Eldouir." She spun on her heel and flashed a smile at @adeline. It seemed they were in agreement. They were going to take her in. She turned once more to the girl and said,
"You stand with us now." She jerked her head to where the majority of the Eldouir watched. "But," her magic released the girl's arm and she raised a finger, "you don't talk. Not yet." Assuming she would be obeyed, she pranced back to her throne and flopped into it once more.
Luka's pledge to the Eldouirs left her shaken. She'd met the woman before, a few times maybe. They'd not known each other in depth, but Xanthe felt the loss all the same. Not loss, maybe, but betrayal. One less Desmondi on their side, to fight their fight. She couldn't pretend to know the woman's motives, what drove her to make this choice now when she could have offered herself to them sooner. She wanted to think there was a good reason, but there was little good to be found in this place.
Xanthe's nerves forced her to step forward. The sooner she could get it over with, the better. Through the crowd she carried her tributes and rested them upon the altar in front of the Queens, spreading each one out for them to see. Savi lingered behind her, within sight but avoiding attention as much as possible at Xanthe's request. Her bandaged hands shook not from nerves, but from the pain. She bowed her head to them, and then glanced up to briefly meet the eyes of the Queens. "To the queens I offer new cloaks to prepare for the coming cold seasons, made of lightweight leather and lined with soft fur for warmth.” She turned her eyes even more briefly to Hiram before bowing her head once again. “And to you, sir, I offer a new set of leather bracers, stitched with your family crest and also lined with fur for warmth." The leather in all three items was a rich, dark brown. The fur used was a mixture of white and gray, and the stitching was black.
With her offer set before them, she linked her hands together in front of herself and awaited their decision.
Though not quite as interesting as a whole new Eldouir, Adeline did appreciate the finer materials of life. Standing from her seat, she approached the altar and ran a hand over the cloak, touching the leather and the soft fur. She picked it up and fastened it on, giving a small twirl, a little smile on her face.
"These are quite nice," she said, picking up the other cloak to hand to Elena and the bracers to give to Hiram. "If the others approve, one brand."
With Aestas should have come long, hot days spent traveling through Dresmond, nurturing the land and cultivating life, followed by cooler nights spent gathered around a campfire, telling stories or singing or maybe even dancing. Instead, Aestas brought long, hot days and the slow, horrific creep toward an inevitable and equally incontrovertible demand to prove themselves worthy - or at least not overly unworthy - of life in the eyes of monsters masquerading as men. How things had changed.
It twisted his stomach. With Aine circling above him at a safe (or rather, a safer) distance away, Embric followed the crowd as they were herded through the gates of the Eldouir stronghold. Upon taking note of the others around him, he kept his head down and shoulders slightly hunched, as if burdened by the sickening dread he hardly had to fake, in order to blend in as best he could with the crowd. Attention, especially from the red-headed monsters who would pass judgment on all of them today, was not something he wanted on him for any longer than strictly necessary. Getting noticed rarely ended well, and the instinct to pull the hood of his cloak over his head, to hide away and prevent just that, grew stronger with every passing moment. Unfortunately, everyone around him seemed to have their faces showing.
The distance between them wasn’t only an attempt to keep her out of reach from the suffering that followed their captors like their own demented dyr; from her vantage point in the sky, Aine could see that which Embric, positioned as he was in the middle of the crowd, could not. He acknowledged the observation and reminded her to be careful, and she promptly reminded him to not do anything stupid while she and Kasni weren’t there to stop him. They were both on edge, made worse because neither of them had slept well the night before. Looking forward, Embric watched as Luka said her piece and stepped aside, some of the tension in his shoulders easing - she would be okay - momentarily only to return again a heartbeat later. Xan and Savi had stepped forward.
“I have a dyr,” Luka told the Eldouir, voice rising to her defense as Grem circled lower over the crowd to land on her shoulder. Together, they stared up at the redheads staring back at them. While Grem wrapped himself in his wings, Luka clung to the hat in her hand. She could physically feel her heart beating in her chest, hammering relentless against her ribcage.
By the time the one called Elena rose from her seat, it was all Luka could do to keep her feet planted where they were. And then—
She had her arm. Holding it out while the sleeve of her too-big jacket fell from her wrist to her elbow to reveal an unmarked arm. Luka looked, wide-eyed up at the Eldouir. This was the part she had practiced. Her excuse, the half-lie that would explain why she didn’t bear a mark. But even as her mouth opened to explain, Luka knew her voice had already failed her. And before she had so much as spoken a word, it was over.
Her arm fell to her side. Elena turned, bounding back to the massive altar while her red hair danced around her. You stand with us now. For a stunned moment, it was all Luka could do to stare after the Eldouir before Grem shouted between her ears, telling her to move. To do what they said. To stand at their side.
Numbly, Luka shuffled forward, wide eyes jumping from Elena to Adeline to Hiram while her heart thundered between her ears and her knees shook and she finally turned to face the Dresmondi. She wanted desperately to look for @kit, for Ermir. But her gaze faltered long before it reached either. She should have glared back at them. All the staring Dresmondi. But for the first time in her life, they were right to judge her. To hate her.
Grem’s feet tightened against her shoulder and Luka did her best not to look at the Dresmondi who stepped forward to take her place in front of the altar.
Myla's attention only was snagged once Luka had made the appearance. Guided to stand amongst the other Eldouir's instead of return to the crowd. She didn't look at the next tribute yet, instead she was staring still at Luka. An Eldouir who was a Dresmondi all in one? Head tilting slight, she studied the bat that was with her.
Post by Hiram Eldouir on Oct 11, 2022 13:06:33 GMT -5
Elena shrugged and used her magic to bring her cloak to her and the bracers to Hiram. Upon touching the cloak, she made a sound that conveyed she was pleased with its quality, and then she nodded at Adeline, agreeing on the mark.
Hiram, arms folded over his chest, made eye contact with @xanthe and would continue to look, even when she addressed the queens. The bracers that hovered next to him remained ignored, and eventually Elena simply let her magic drop them to the ground.
The Eldouir's gaze followed the very tall woman as she returned to the crowd.
Kit watched in silent horror as Luka was taken in and forced to stand among them. He wasn't sure what he had expected or wanted to happen, but this wasn't it. So...what? She was just one of them now? Would she start dressing like them and talking like them and acting like them? Living with them? Training with them? He had just gotten her back, and already he would lose her again?
Squelching and indignant moan, Kit cut forward. Ninevah's presence at his side helped part the Dresmondi about him, and before he knew it he was standing before the Eldouir, eyes round, fear causing his chin to quiver.
He had thought of words to say with his offering, but they evaded him now. His entire body was aching with the tension, consciously fighting the desire to run. It washed through Ninevah, too, and together they steeled themselves.
Taking one grueling step at a time, Kit brought his offering forward and set it on the altar. It was gold. Not a lot of it, and not shaped like coins or anything. It was the raw ore, drawn up from the earth by the metal elementalist dyr at his side. It was only enough to make perhaps two rings, but Kit was hoping it was enough.