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!
Lovina had been taking on a more managerial position since Ona was busy with the business the Eldouir forced her into. She was happy to do it. She still serviced some of the tavern goers—her usual clients and a couple new ones—but she got to people watch a little more. She was doing that at that moment from behind the bar. That was probably her favorite thing to do…although maybe she wasn’t the best person for it. Sometimes she snitch a drink or two. Drinking wasn’t a pretty vice, but it was one of the ones she had. It could be worse, she supposed…although she wasn’t sure how.
Post by Demelza & Oberon on Jul 10, 2024 13:02:57 GMT -5
Even with the changes, Demelza had made good on her promise to play music at the tavern to the tavern-goers' delight. Right now, however, she was not there in a performing capacity, though she did have her mandolin perched on her lap. She picked at it quietly, the sweet notes mixing in with the conversation in little bursts like fireflies on the night air.
Come guess me this riddle: what beats pipes and fiddle? What's hotter than mustard and wilder than cream? What best wets your whistle? What's clearer than crystal? What's sweeter than honey and stronger than steam?
What will make the dumb talk? What will make the lame walk? The elixir of life and philospher's stone—
Demezla’s sweet voice cut off as she hit a wrong note. Flustered, she tried to regain her fingering but abandoned the task with a sigh. She let her mandolin fall on its strap as she propped her chin up with an elbow on the bar counter.
“You sure you don’t need help back there?"
It was a silly, playful question, given the speed of the evening. It was a low hum, not a mad rush.
Post by Lovina & Thorn on Jul 11, 2024 20:11:25 GMT -5
While working behind the bar, Lovina would listen to Demelza’s music, a small smile on her face. She’d always loved music. She’d never had much talent for playing it—she’d had trouble sitting still long enough to learn—but she’d always been able to pick out the notes, the beat of music, how to translate what she heard to her body. When the members of her caravan were still together, alive, she’d danced as often as she could, knowing all their folk dances. Recently, she’d developed a more sensual way to do some of their more traditional dancing, and she enjoyed doing that too, but Demelza’s music brought her right back to the more careless days she’d enjoyed before the Eldouir took over. It made her want to get a Tamborine and dance along…
Then a sour note was struck and the music ceased. Lovina shook her head, emerging from her imagined choreography. Her eyes went to the bard. Lovina thought she looked a bit embarrassed, as she approached the bar.
“I’ll never turn down help,” Lovina laughed, eyeing the room behind her. It would be more than generous to say it was packed, “You seem troubled,” she rested her elbow on the bar, almost mirroring Demelza’s pose, “Something on your mind?”
Post by Demelza & Oberon on Aug 8, 2024 10:51:14 GMT -5
Demelza sighed, brushing a rogue curl from her forehead as she shrugged. It was then her eyes drifted about the tavern. To the weary faces of the scattered patrons, each buried in their drink. She shrugged again.
“When I first got here, I—I gotta admit I was…not disgusted, just frustrated that everyone seemed so—so resigned to their fates.” She grimaced, shaking her head. “But I get it now. This place just sucks the will out of you. Like a bloodsucking leech, just draining you bit by bit until there’s nothing left.” She met Lovina’s eyes. “I think it’s getting me too.”
Post by Lovina & Thorn on Aug 16, 2024 17:22:23 GMT -5
Lovina nodded, “I understand,” she said thinking back to her own introduction to Dresmond’s particular brand of misery, “I think a lot of us are just too beaten down to do anything against our oppressors,” she shrugged, “Drinking helped me come to terms with things…and the sex doesn’t hurt either, although…” she thought back to that time when Ona had taken her in, how being touched by anybody repulsed her without the aide of booze. It had been a while until she didn’t need that particular crutch…often anyways. Some days though…it was like what had happened to her had been done just the day before. She didn’t say any of that to her companion however. Instead, she shook her head as if warding away a bad memory and smiled, “It gets the best of us, I think. What we need is a spark of hope, but what that is I don’t know.”