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!
As soon as they got back, Embric was back to making a possible plan. The more he spoke of it, the more she wondered if he was right. Maybe between the three of them, they could take Hiram down. But what if they failed? What end would it serve if they couldn't kill him and they all died for nothing? If it had been any other Eldouir, any other one of them, Xanthe would have been on board. But they had no idea what Hiram could do. Could he even be injured? In all of these years, he had seemed nothing short of impenetrable.
Ermir's response wasn't much different from what Xan and Savi would relay between the group. "If it's possible, we would be willing," Savi agreed. "But Ermir and Ciel are right. We have no idea if we could even hurt him, much less kill him."
The way Hiram walked up to Ermir, standing chest to chest with him, caught Xanthe's breath in her throat. If he attacked, maybe they could defend themselves and go along with Embric's plan. But if he didn't...she thought it better not to try. Maybe it was her own fear. Maybe Xanthe just wasn't ready to die. Embric seemed willing, and she wanted to be able to make that sacrifice for the Dresmondi people. But she wasn't sure she had the courage.
For the moment, she made no movements. She merely waited, standing near Embric, occasionally looking up toward the sky at Aine. Ermir was good at keeping his cool, she hoped his words would tide the beast over.
When Ermir entered the scene, Taz shifted. The desperation on her features started to turn to anger. She clutched Rikki more closely with a snarl. Her dyr was whining; a low, constant, painful whine. Listening to Ermir, Hiram was forgotten. Taz’s blood boiled as she held her dying dyr in her arms.
“You sneaking cunt,” Taz spat venomously at Ermir, “I’ll fry you like a chicken, you son-of-a-bitch. Just you wait.”
There was hesitation from both of them, which, upon relaying the messages, Aine reminded him was perfectly reasonable, but Embric couldn’t stop the helpless impatience from bursting through him. He was keenly aware that the Eldouir could decide to hasten all of their deaths at any moment, and he had the growing suspicion that the longer they were in Hiram’s presence, the more likely that fate would come to pass. If he was going to die, he wanted to - needed to - at least try to take down the redhead with him.
Embric could always attempt to do so on his own, but failure would be disastrous. The chances of success would be far higher if Xan and Ermir agreed to try as well. “We… don’t know what he can truly do, but he’s still a man, right?” Embric finally argued through their dyrs, his words faltering where Aine’s cadence did not. “Surely he must breathe and burn and die like the rest of us. He can’t be—” Unwilling even to consider the idea and the despair that came with it, he cut himself off abruptly, and Aine did not finish the thought. For if Hiram Eldouir was somehow invulnerable, how could they have any hope of freeing themselves at all?
Embric would remember the sight of the monster standing toe to toe with Ermir for the rest of his life. It sent a chill down his spine. Though his friend was taller, both the redhead’s size and presence made it seem like he towered over him. Why Tazmin had ever sought Hiram’s undivided attention was utterly beyond Embric, but he knew that if anyone could talk their way out of trouble, it would be Ermir. With Hiram’s attention firmly fixed on his friend, Embric silently reached up with one hand and grabbed Xan’s, if it was within reach. He tore his gaze away from Ermir for a moment, turning his attention upward in search of hers. He would lock eyes, squeeze her hand, and then lower his arm and go back to watching the two men in front of him.
The venom in Tazmin’s words drew his attention, and his gaze flicked to her and the hyena dying in her arms. Her animosity came as no surprise, but her threat had paled in comparison to that posed by the redhead who loomed over both of them. Still, if she attacked Ermir before they could get to Hiram… From where she circled above the fire, Aine peered at them and asked Ciel and Savi, “Now that Hiram’s here, do you think she’ll act without his permission?”
Post by Hiram Eldouir on Feb 24, 2023 1:58:19 GMT -5
The answer Ermir have could have saved him. Instead, it condemned him. Hiram’s unforgiving gaze trickled over the man’s careless nonchalance. In another world, Hiram might have applauded it. In this one, however, it showed the man’s lack of concern for the hierarchy that had been established here in Dresmond by the Eldouir, and as soon as one Dresmondi got this kind of idea in his head he would spread his ideology and the Eldouirs would have an uprising on their hands. An uprising would be fun—lots of bloodshed—but it wasn’t where the family was focusing its magical energy these days.
Hiram wasn’t one for monologues.
Ermir’s dyr, oh the poor, tiny thing, would feel movement in his body that he could not explain. It didn’t take seconds. It took milliseconds. His blood had turned against heart, and in an aggressive rush it would sever the tissue surrounding the essential organ, cutting it off from all of its functionality.
As Ermir no doubt moved to react, Hiram’s hand swiped his hatchet from his belt and aimed to bring sharp edge of the killing instrument into the side of the Dresmondi’s neck. It would not be the killing blow, but it was also only the first hack.
[ Since combat has been introduced we need a CN. Rigby can now do that, and her reply will likely come after Ermir’s. Everyone else get a reply in too, of course.]
There is no glory in battle if no blood is lost.
Last Edit: Feb 24, 2023 2:20:47 GMT -5 by Hiram Eldouir
Ermir and Ciel had come back knowing they could die. But they had come all the same. It hadn’t mattered, they would die either way. And if it saved Embric then so be it. The crushing pain in the fossa chest was too much to take. The pair knew they had seconds left, and Ermir knew that there would be nothing after the dyr died. He had seen many Dresmondi suffer the same fate. So while Hiram brought a hatchet to his neck he attempted to bring a knife at his belt towards the man’s chest, aiming up and in for the man’s heart and lungs. Ciel would then attempt for force air inside, as much as he could before his little body gave out. ”The children are safe with Zevran’s contact, the one that took in Nikita.” It was a message for just Aine, and Xanthe got a wink. Both of them smiled though, Ermir a broad grin as whatever happened did.
Ciel’s decline would be swift. The creature would wheeze, taking a few short staggering steps before collapsing. Ermir, connected to his dyr through ancient magic, would feel his companion’s pain and the black, creeping coldness of his death.
There wasn’t enough time for Ermir to lodge the knife deep in the Eldouir’s chest. There was some contact—a clumsy slice across the Eldouir’s chest—but with the closeness required for such a thing, Ermir made himself an easy target. Hiram’s neck tore through Ermir’s neck with ease, magnifying the pain of his suffering dyr.
Hiram would feel the pressure of the air in his lungs, like the force of a breath when surfacing from a long dive. But the dyr’s last death throw would do no real damage. Unconsciousness was approaching the creature too quickly. With the last of his energy expended, the creature’s heart would stop and the beloved tavern keeper’s grin would fade.
With his dyr dead, Emir wouldn’t be able to remain upright for long. Though not a quote of their world or time, if it were known, perhaps they’d be reminded of the scene where two men faced their imminent deaths. Where one says to the other, “You fool! As if it matters how a man falls down.” To which his companion replies:
“When the fall’s all that’s left, it matters a great deal.”
Xanthe might have been on board with Embric's plan. If they really could have a chance, did have a chance, she would risk herself in a heartbeat to join Embric in taking out Hiram. He was the worst of them. The hardest to kill. But if they had that chance, if they had that heartbeat, she would do it. Now or never, it seemed. She could keep hold of Embric's hand. They could die together with Aine and Savi, and rid the world of one more monster. Their souls could be reunited with Elijah and Legba, with Koti and Rex and the boy.
But as they watched, the strongest Dresmondi Xanthe knew could barely move quickly enough to do any damage to Hiram. There was no distance between them. He was right there, and yet nothing could be done. There was nothing faster than a heartbeat, nothing except Hiram's cruelty.
Her hands shook. Her eyes were wide and watering. Her teeth clenched, jaw tight. It was hopeless. He could kill them all before they could blink. If they attacked him, they would die before he ever felt the warmth.
Her eyes were glued to the dying and dead before her, to Ermir and Ciel. She wanted to plead with Embric not to attack, but what difference would it make? If it made him feel better in death, she wouldn't keep him from it. But she wasn't sure she could help him, either. So she just stood there.
It happened too fast. In one heartbeat, the redhead and the tavern keeper stood motionless, toe to toe. In the next, by some unspoken signal, both were in motion. The monster brought his hatchet up to the martyr’s throat, and the martyr lunged toward the monster with his knife in hand. There was no warning. There was no time to react.
Then Ermir was as good as dead, while the monster looked untouched.
And Embric? Embric was left struggling to comprehend the sight of his friend falling limp with blood spurting from his neck. On his good days, Ermir had seemed almost invincible, so full of life and energy that nothing could have stopped him. He had always been quick to offer a smile like the one that now faded from his face - no, not like this one: Ermir’s final grin was the happiest, most satisfied one that Embric had ever seen on him. Of the two of them, Ermir had always been the fighter. He was bigger, stronger, and armed with the more offensive element, and it was his support that Embric had been counting on to try to defeat Hiram. And now— now—
The children are safe with Zevran’s contact, the one that took in Nikita.
He hadn’t even heard Ermir’s last words in his friend’s voice. Aine had shared them, and despite the many drinks they had shared in the tavern, all of the conversations that had truly turned Ermir from a stranger to a friend had never occurred out loud. Perhaps one day they would have been able to shed the secrecy, but now—
Embric could feel himself start to tremble as the realization set in. Now, he would never share a drink with Ermir again. Now, Mayda and Lolek were his to care for, orphaned though they didn’t know it yet, and Kasni - would Embric leave her an orphan as well?
He still might. If he attacked, he surely would.
Mere hours ago, he had confronted Ermir about his stunt at Tribute. Their silent exchange had been heated, but as he stared at his friend’s body, a part of it pierced through the shock:
If I died, so be it. You or I could die any day at their whim, mark or not.
Are you truly arguing that your death doesn’t matter because you could die at any given moment anyway? We would have lost you and gained nothing.
Ermir had been the strongest of them, and he hadn’t even managed to wound Hiram when he stood right next to him. Hiram, who could and would kill instantaneously. If Ermir couldn’t wound Hiram, Embric had no chance. Embric might still die, but attacking as he’d been so prepared to do mere moments ago would hasten it. And for what? The children would lose both of their fathers and gain nothing, and the rebellion, clinging to life with a grip already so tenuous and fragile, would die with him.
Before, if Embric died, there had been Ermir. Now, there was only him. And all he could do was sit there, frozen, and hope that death didn’t come for him next.
Post by Hiram Eldouir on Feb 26, 2023 11:34:59 GMT -5
Ermir didn’t stop smiling because he was dead. His smile was hacked from his face. Following the blow to his throat, Hiram then brought his hatchet down again, again, and again, hacking the man to pieces before his friends, sending his blood and guts in every direction—but mostly on him. And he did it smiling. Life was of little value to this evil man, and bloodshed was everything to him.
If no one intervened before he was finished, Hiram would stop only once the figure of the man they had known was reduced to nothing but broken bones and pulpy flesh. He’d turn then, a stream of blood rising up from the orifices of the dead dyr to trickle into his slightly parted lips. Partaking of the magical creature’s blood was a delight. He moaned quietly as he at once felt the connection he now had to the air element. It was different than Bryce’s, but still potent.
Hiram’s golden gaze peered out from his red face, eyes set on @xanthe. She had brought him here. She had made the deal.
“You want him healed?” Without waiting for her response he would bring the blade of his hatchet to his hand, slicing it deeply, and would then surge forward, intent on pressing it to @embric’s mouth, forcing the man to drink his blood.
In the long years spent in Elderkeep, Embric had thought he’d learned brutality. He’d seen the messes left behind by the Eldouir and their dogs, and he thought he’d grown inured to it. Everything was different when the blood and guts and bone belonged to someone he knew. The sight and sound of blow dealt to Ermir’s corpse felt like one scored across his own heart, and though he silently flinched at the brutalization of his friend’s corpse, he couldn’t bring himself to look away.
It ended with a trickle of blood streaming into the air and down the monster’s throat. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Embric noted this.
Then Hiram turned to face them. He asked a question of Xan but required no answer before bursting into motion as abruptly as he had when attacking Ermir. Instinctively, Embric flinched back at the movement, but he was in no position to dodge anything. It would hardly be difficult for the Eldouir to press his bleeding hand to the Dresmondi’s mouth. With the metallic liquid pooling on his tongue, unless Hiram manipulated it down his throat, Embric would still sit frozen. Unaware that the blood was supposed to heal him and caught entirely off guard by this new development, he wouldn’t know to swallow it, but he also had no way to avoid doing so if forced.
At first, Taz was stunned. She watched in shock as Hiram started reducing Ermir to a pulp. And then…she grinned. She laughed a terrible, vengeful, laugh as she rocked her dyr in her arms. She looked deranged. Insane, even. Like the last vestiges of her humanity had finally dropped away.
She let Rikki slide to the ground, stumbling over to the remains of Ermir and his dyr and kicking whatever was left as she laughed.
Like Embric, Xanthe did not peel her eyes away as Hiram destroyed what was left of Ermir. Every ounce of common sense begged and pleaded with her to look away, but she couldn't allow it. She wanted this reminder that these were not games they were playing. That this man was not some mysterious figure who had mercifully let her leave on the night of tribute. He was a cruel, disgusting monster, just like the rest of them. It had been nothing but luck that had saved her from his brutality on that night, and just a few days later, she had pushed that luck.
There was no mystery left. This was all very, very clear. So she was determined, just like she had been on that night, to keep her eyes wide open. To remember.
When his eyes turned on her, she did not look away from him. Not until he was rushing toward Embric did she move, stumbling away. She'd seen him cut his hand, and now he pressed it against Embric's mouth. Only then did she realize why. That night, she had tasted the metallic substance running down her throat, but she hadn't connected it to his gift of healing until now. Blood, of course it was in his very blood.
"Tell him not to fight it. Tell him to drink the blood. His blood heals." Savi relayed the message to Aine, hoping Embric would hear and understand it in time, before Hiram decided to change in his mind. "Xanthe, that woman..." the maned wolf bared his teeth and Xanthe turned to watch as Taz began to further defile Ermir's body. Her eyes hardened. "I can take the dyr out while he's distracted with Embric." Savi had the same thoughts as she did.
But no. If she attacked Taz now, Hiram might only take it out on Embric. Embric was all she had left. Without him, all of this would have meant nothing. Ermir's death would have meant nothing. Xanthe clenched her fists. Taz's time would come, sooner or later. And when it did, Xanthe would be there, to laugh and kick whatever was left.
Post by Hiram Eldouir on Mar 7, 2023 11:37:59 GMT -5
Hiram gave the man enough to survive. Enough to be healed, perhaps with some minor aches. If the fellow chose not to swallow, not to accept this gift of renewal, then it was on him. Hiram had done as he'd been requested.
Releasing the man just as aggressively as he'd taken him, he straightened and turned to face Xanthe. He hadn't forgotten what she'd promised. His eyes traveled down her form, observing her expression, her posture, her clothing. He saw the same thing now that he had seen then, at tribute. Potential.
"What of her?" He tilted his head towards Tazmin. "What would you have me do with her?" It was a simple question, but his eyes danced, eager to see what @xanthe would say.
She hoped Embric would do as she said. Would take the blood given and use it to heal himself. It wasn't right. There was no way that Ermir's blood wasn't mixed in with it, and Embric had known him much better than Xanthe had. They were friends. It had to be torture for Embric. But he had to do it if he wanted to survive.
Flinching when Hiram pulled away from Embric, her eyes moved between them. Then the redhead posed a question of her that she did not expect. Why would he let her choose? Was he really, or was it some kind of test? Every word, every supposed choice, felt like a trap. Overthinking it all was too much work. The night, the past few days, had been far too long. So she stared back at him, tired and aching from Taz's earlier attack. If he was asking, she might as well be honest.
"I want her dead."
"Xanthe, if he--"
"No, Savi," she glanced down at her dyr only for a moment, before looking back at Hiram Eldouir . "I want her dead. You can kill her, or leave her here to die alone. Or heal her, and teach me how to kill her, and I'll do it myself." It was easier to say than she had expected. Maybe before watching him kill Ermir it would have been more difficult. Even harder before she'd attacked Embric for no reason, and harder still before tribute. Taz was just another traitor to their people then, but now was different. She deserved whatever she got and there was no point in pretending it wasn't what Xanthe wanted.
Finally, she looked back down at Tazmin, fists still clenched. Embric wouldn't like it. She knew that, so she avoided looking at him, but he knew how she felt. She'd told him as much after she'd come back that night, so even if he didn't like it, it wouldn't be a surprise. "I don't care which you choose. As long as she dies."
Aine relayed the message from Savi, and with a slight shudder, Embric swallowed the blood as Hiram pulled away. His heart pounded as, true to form, lung and bone stitched themselves back together. Even though he could breathe easier now - proof of its success - he tentatively curled a hand around his side and pressed where the sharp pain had once sat, finding only a dull ache. The amount of good any other man could have done with a power like that…
Hiram’s question to Xan drew his attention back toward the other two, and though the answer she gave had him mourning the girl she once was, he was not surprised. Had they not discussed killing Tazmin the morning prior? Had he not just entertained the same thoughts? Up to this point, they had seemed like wishful thinking turned into a last ditch effort to take out as many people with him as he could, but now— Blue eyes found the woman in question, where she was practically dancing as she kicked through Ermir’s remains— Now it seemed like her imminent death could come to pass.
And, as Embric watched Tazmin, he couldn’t say he was sorry for it either. He didn’t know the exact terms of the deal Xanthe had struck with Hiram, so he could only hope that the cost of saving him and killing Tazmin wouldn’t be too high.