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!
The feeling in Coheed was like one at the changing of the seasons. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the air tasted different and the sun felt warmer on your skin than before. There was a low hum of anticipation, one that lived in every word and movement of its people. And Magda was the drummer dictating its song.
Magda had always fancied herself a queen, but now it seemed the world saw her as one. The powerful men of Coheed parted for her when she walked through the streets. Her requests were not met with resistance. Warriors bent to them willingly, like dogs begging for scraps under the table. Yes, things had changed, and a kingdom once ruled by men had a witch pressing her heel down on its neck.
For now, anyway.
Magda was walking now with an entourage not of Nevermerean soldiers but of warriors. Four that she now kept close, with the excuse that after Izen’s attack, Magda needed to be surrounded by people Rian could trust.
As she walked through the streets, she was struck by the sound of a commotion. Two of the voices were of agitated men, a third that of a woman. Brow furrowed, Magda motioned for her guard to stay at a distance and rounded the corner…
Although Yrsa had been enjoying being allowed to be out and about more often than before, she’d discovered that the loosening of her father’s leash came with some disadvantages. She always seemed to run into this sort when she was doing laundry, or gathering berries or mushrooms.
That particular day, it was laundry that did her in. It was her turn to do it again, and with all the brothers she had, there was much of it to do. As usual, she’d had a big load to carry, so her hands were very full. She’d made it to the river just fine. She’d spread them out to dry, and foraged around while she waited for the clothes to dry a little so the basket wouldn’t bee too heavy to carry. So by the time she was heading back home, she had a basket full of damp clothes, and two baskets that were tied to her belt that were bursting full of berries and wild herbs. She’d been focusing on carrying the much heavier load when she felt her laundry basket being tugged, forcing her to turn toward the warrior that had managed to pull it from her grip.
“Aren’t you a pretty thing,” said the man that was now holding her basket. She reached for it, intending to snatch it back, but he took the opportunity to grab her wrist. He tugged her closer, making her gasp, “Ah ah! No need for that. We just want a friendly chat.”
That’s when she noticed that it wasn’t just the one man. There was another man. She realized they were both young, young enough that she was unsure if either had taken a first wife yet. Panic filled her. Yes, they were in public, and she’d been told things had changed, but would anyone here care if they tried to take her? Her mother had warned her not to get too close to men, and here she was trapped between two of them.
She wasn’t really sure what happened in the next few moments. One minute, she’d tried to free her arm from his grip, she remembered that he’d tugged her closer to him…she may have reflexively slapped him…no she was sure she slapped him. Hard enough that the palm of her hand stung even when he’d shoved her at his companion who shoved her to the ground.
The next thing she knew, one of them kicked her, hitting the basket with the aestas berries. She’d barely registered the sticky juice staining her clothes when the next kick came. Not sure if anyone would bother helping her, she knew that she needed to do something, or she might not stand back up ever again. Through the panic and the pain as the two men yelled at her as they struck at her, she remembered her knife. It was more suited to cutting stubborn vegetation than fighting, but per her mother’s instruction, she always kept it covered in the juice of nightshade berries. Had she remembered to coat it that morning? It was in her belt, and she’d managed to grab it before either man could notice, her enhanced dexterity working in her favor. She saw an opening, and gritting her teeth, she swing the blade toward the ankle of the man closest to her…
Post by Magda Ivanova on Jan 15, 2024 10:15:53 GMT -5
As the commotion grew, Magda’s stride lengthened. She came upon the scene just as the woman’s knife sunk into the man’s ankle. The man yelped, stumbling and getting ready to kick her again before Magda spoke, the gemstone on her ring turning black.
“Stop.” The men stopped at once. They looked about, as if recognizing themselves for the first time before looking at Magda expectantly. Magda bent down to the girl, offering to help her up. Her tongue was metallic with hidden rage that curled like a toxin through her veins.
Yrsa felt her knife break the skin of the man's ankle. Her knife had ripped out of the man's ankle when he jerked away, and she'd lost her grip on the handle. She braced for him to retaliate, but then a woman called out, and to Yrsa's surprise, the men stopped abusing her.
She stayed curled on the ground for longer than she needed to, just in case the men decided to go back to kicking her. When it was clear that she was now safe--or rather, as safe as she could be outside of the protection of her father, she peeked up and saw a woman, a witch. She took the hand offered to her and stood, gasping when her middle let her know that the men had kicked her harder than she'd thought. She wrapped her arms around her belly and tried to ride the pain out as she hissed through clenched teeth, "Thank you..."
Post by Magda Ivanova on Feb 21, 2024 10:25:32 GMT -5
When Yrsa stumbled, clutching her belly, Magda scooped her arms around the young Coheedswoman to steady her. Dark anger sharpened her gaze as went to her guards.
“Take them away.” The men who had been attacking Yrsa were standing there idly, stalled and dumbfounded by the power of the ring on Magda’s finger. When the guards ushered them away they went without protest—only with confusion. Only one guard remained, watching over Magda and Yrsa as the witch attempted to steady her.
“You need Nevermerean medicine,” Magda said with a tone of command, “Come with me.” There was no choice that she was going to give the girl. They were close enough to the chieftain's hut that Magda would walk her there.
Yrsa was thankful for the support, even though she knew that later she would be mortified to be the source of such a fuss. No one had ever hit her like that. Like a small child, she wanted to run to her father and hide behind him while he showed those men who the bigger bear in the village was. But her father was not there, and…her father was not what he once was. She wasn’t sure if he would have been able to do anything now. Not that it mattered. She’d been rescued, and the men were being taken away. She didn’t care what happened to them, as long as they ended up hurting at least as much as she was at that moment.
Something clicked in Yrsa’s head at the declaration that she needed “Nevermerean medicine.” She looked up at the woman, her arms still wrapped around he middle, “Are you Magda?” She asked quietly as she followed her. Her tone didn’t allow any wiggle room out, not that yrs was in any shape. Still… “What about my laundry?” she thought of all the damp clothes that were now strewn all over the ground. All that work…
Post by Magda Ivanova on Feb 29, 2024 18:15:25 GMT -5
Magda carried the woman along as if they were kin, not two people with a chasm of difference between them in culture and experience. As the woman—or girl, more like—asked about her laundry, Magda ordered one of the guards in a verbal crack of the whip.
“Fetch the girl’s things.” And he did. The man moved off to obey without hesitation or protest. Bending readily to a woman in a culture that told him to do otherwise. She chuckled when the woman said her name.
“Yes, Magda. I hope you won’t hold it against me,” Magda teased as they approached the chieftain’s hut, “Almost there, now. Steady.”
If she had not been carried along by Magda, Yrsa would have stared wide-eyed at the men who had started to do as she had ordered. How? Her father loved her best of all his children, and he wouldn’t even ask one of her brothers to carry something heavy for her, but these men would pick up laundry for an outsider woman? Perhaps it was because she was an important man’s wife, or maybe it was the authority in her voice. Yrsa wished she could speak with such authority, but she would have been slapped if she spoke too crossly at home.
“My father would, but I certainly won’t,” she said, “Even if you didn’t just save me.” she hoped that her ribs were not broken…she didn’t think they were since the pain seemed to be gathered on her belly and not her ribs, but perhaps they’d find out more once they reached the privacy of the hut. She wondered about the Nevermere medicine that Magda had spoken about. How did it differ from herbs, she wondered?
Post by Magda Ivanova on Mar 8, 2024 18:04:25 GMT -5
Magda laughed—not a dark chuckle, but a bright musical sound so much sweeter than the woman it came from. They arrived at the hut, and a guard opened the door for them both. Yrsa would find herself in the chieftain’s hut—a building that was a mixture of old Coheed and new Nevereran elements. She’d continue through the great room where a fire burned into the back, turning into a guest room with a bed dressed with linens but covered in furs.
“There, now…” Magda said, gently helping Yrsa to lie down on the bed, “Easy…” It would no doubt be painful, but once Yrsa was laid back on feathered pillows, Magda would see she was mostly comfortable before rising to go to a double-doored cabinet of Nevermerean design.
“So your father takes issue with the Nevermereans,” Magda said, making conversation as she moved about the room, “But you do not?”
Yrsa would not be able to see what Magda was doing inside the cabinet, but clearly, she was gathering things as glass chinked inside.
Yrsa had never been in the chieftains hut. If she weren’t in so much pain, she would have been gawking at it, comparing the differences in the size and decor to her father’s hut. Instead, she let Magda lead her to a bed and slowly lowered herself onto it. Her belly still hurt like fire, but laying down helped a little.
“He takes issue with lots of things,” she turned her head to watch Magda do something in the cabinet, although she couldn’t see what the witch was doing, “He’s…getting old, and doesn’t take change well. As for me,” she slightly lifted her hand then dropped it back on the mattress, “I like to learn, and I have never had a bad experience with the Nevermerans before,” she’d not felt as if she had to stay out of sight around most of the men for one thing. She was silent a moment, listening to the sound of glass knocking together, “What are you doing?"
Post by Magda Ivanova on Apr 2, 2024 8:50:44 GMT -5
Magda wasn’t often in the presence of other women—certainly not alone. She wondered idly whether it was by intention or by circumstance. Kennet Delaney had been the closest she’d ever come to a true friend, but look where that had gotten her. How quickly the King’s Hand had turned…Magda soured at the thought. No matter. At present, she found the novelty of it refreshing.
She chuckled at the girl’s description of her father. “Fathers are a shackle their daughters are always trying to break,” Magda mused, “Unfortunately too often, in that pursuit, they exchange one shackle for another.” She sighed, closing the cabinets and turning to auras.
“A little witchery,” Magda smiled, “I’ve learned a thing or two over the years about patching myself up. If you’ll let me…” Magda unloaded her vials and bottles and knelt by the bed. She paused as she reached for Yrsa’s blouse, allowing her the opportunity to reject her assistance.
Yrsa huffed out a laugh, and immediately winced at the paint that jolted in her stomach, “That’s a way to describe fathers…although my sisters insist that I’m his favorite, given the men he’s tried to give me to,” perhaps it was unwise to speak so freely of these things, but Magda had saved her, and Yrsa thought that maybe she’d understand, “I know that I am supposed to be honored to marry an old man with two wives already, but…” she tilted her head to the side in place of a shrug, “they’re so old. So old two of them dropped dead on the day of the wedding.”
Yrsa watched the vials with interest, “Do you get hurt a lot?” Would anybody dare hurt her? But then Yrsa remembered that someone…a man…had hurt Magda recently. Being even a great man’s wife didn’t keep you completely safe from that sort of things it seemed. The young girl didn’t blanch at Magda’s reaching for her blouse. Another time, if she wasn’t hurt, maybe she would have insisted on removing it herself, but it wasn’t that time. Yrsa was not one to reject help when it was offered.
Post by Magda Ivanova on Apr 12, 2024 10:08:12 GMT -5
Magda didn’t consciously try anymore. Her magnetism had gone from intentional to instinctual, nature and nurture creating something beautiful but not at all real. A mirage of a woman that flickered tantalizingly within reach. She laughed her silky, rippling laugh as Yrsa spoke of her plight, delighting in the girl she’d found like a lost kitten in the street. One that she, for now, intended to keep.
“At one time, yes,” Magda said, gently loosing the strings of the girl’s blouse so that it would fall open, “At one time, there seemed to be no end to it. But…” Magda gently ran her fingers over the purple and red bruising that had sprung up on the girl’s abdomen, “That was a long time ago.”
Magda looked up at Yrsa, considering her for a moment before she reached up and stroked the woman’s cheek. It was then that she reached for the salve and started to tenderly apply it to the girl’s wound. “And is that what you want?” Magda continued their conversation, “To be wife to an honorable man?” She smirked, “Preferably a living one?”
Magda seemed like a nice lady. Again, Yrsa thought of her father’s opinion of the woman, and she compared his words to what she was experiencing. The difference could be that Yrsa was a fellow woman and her father, well wasn’t. However, Yrsa had recently been coming to the realization that her father was firmly stuck in his ways and would not give Magda a chance.
She would frown at Magda’s words of being beaten nearly constantly. It was not an unheard of thing. Some men were very rough and used their fists to get their way. That’s just how it was. Yrsa didn’t like it, but it was a truth that she had accepted. She tried not to wince at the sharp pain that came when Magda ran her finger over the bruising, “How did you make it stop? The beatings?”
She laughed, “Yes, Preferably living!” No one had asked her what she had wanted in a man. She was just an unmarried woman, and she was doomed to marry whoever her father decided she should marry, “I want…” she jumped a little when the cool salve touched her skin, “Oh! Sorry,” a short, embarrassed laugh, “I want a man who genuinely cares for me and isn’t on deaths door…maybe someone closer to my age even if it makes me a first wife.”
Post by Magda Ivanova on May 18, 2024 15:55:41 GMT -5
Magda adjusted her touch as Yrsa winced, fingers traveling more lightly in an almost sensual motion across the girl’s smooth abdomen. It was a marvel that a land of such roughness could produce a creature of such unmarked beauty… bruises notwithstanding. Magda let the question about how she stopped the beatings go unanswered instead she turned to the woman’s future.
“So it is a man you want?” Magda questioned playfully, “To be a dutiful wife, just to one who is deserving?”