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!
It was a nippy but clear heims afternoon. Birds were chirping, children were playing, the kingdom was coming apart at the seams…where else would vigorous young gent find himself on such an afternoon than in the warm embrace of a bathhouse?
“...and then, when the little gigglemug was through changing the linens, she let me juggle those kettle drums until they were sore as a whore’s backside,” Barty finished his story with a laugh, sipping on his iced brandy as he lounged back in the hot water, “Papa was so furious, you should have seen him. Fired her, of course, but not after I got a peek under that frock of hers—dirty old wench.”
Barty downed his brandy and one and tapped the glass twice on the stones to indicate it should be refilled. The serving girl stepped forward to where the gentlemen lounged. As she stooped to pick up the glass, Barty wrapped a gentle hand around her ankle, stroking his long pale fingers along it before she backed away. He let her go, but his eyes lingered.
Post by Humphrey Titsworth on Jul 14, 2024 6:55:28 GMT -5
Humph leaned against the edge of the warm bath, his elbows resting along the ledge. Naturally, he had a drink in his hand, a drink that he swiftly chugged even though the serving girl had just finished filling it. His friend was paying for it, so he didn’t see the reason to drink slowly…not that he ever needed a reason to not drink slowly. He liked the way booze made his limbs feel loose and how hilarious everything became once he was intoxicated. If he were a gifted, he would want to have the power to get completely drunk just by wanting to be drunk.
He laughed at his friend’s story the jovial sound soon transitioning into a wet sounding belch that he didn’t bother to muffle, “I love me a dirty wench,” he leaned over to try to see if he could look down the collar if the serving girl’s dress when she bent to fill Barty’s drink. Not a good angle. He tapped his glass so she’d fill his up again. He’d try to take a peak around the same time Barty was sampling her feet, “Now that one’s got a pair of kettle drums to play with all night eh?” He said well in the earshot of the serving wench, "If we can't getter innere to dive for our coins, I'll eat my socks," he laughed, clearly drunk, and punched Barty's arm, "Ahhhhh butcha'd like that ehhhh?"
Humph’s answer to his friend was a drunken grin, “All sortsah fun,” he slurred.
Post by Bartholomew Everhard on Aug 3, 2024 10:08:36 GMT -5
Barty wrinkled his nose at his friend’s belch, comedically waving a hand in front of his nose. He had always been a bit of a dandy by comparison. Perhaps that’s what made the two such a pair: a trashed, testosterone-filled yin to a silky-voiced, dainty-fingered yang. He snickered as Humph peered down the woman’s blouse, continuing to titter as the woman hurried away with blushed cheeks.
“Your socks are foul enough to pickle a man’s eggs,” Barty teased, nose still wrinkled, “Now our little friend’s on the other hand…” Barty considered with presentational exaggeration, tugging his little pouch of coins from where it sat on the edge of the bath—for tips and the like, “You know how these working girls are, Perky. Anything for a bit of sparkle…” He took out a solid gold coin and tossed it through the air to Humph in anticipation of the girl’s return.
Post by Humphrey Titsworth on Aug 6, 2024 19:24:01 GMT -5
Humph would chuckle at his friend’s apparent disgust at his bodily noises. Barty was a bit of a fop, but Humph never held that against him. In his mind, they were two birds of a feather (if those periods were a turkey and a peacock, that is!) After all, he was always up to accompanying—and paying for—Humph and his antics. He was a grand ol’ time.
“Ah yes,” Humph even in his state of inebriation caught the coin, not daring to let his ticket to getting his shivers timbered. He examined the coin with a drunken grin, “This’ll do. These common wenches can’t resist a bit o sparkle, eh?” He had grand visions of her peeling her clothes off and letting the two of them do whatever they liked, “Do you wanna go atter, Barty?” Humph didn’t mind Barty taking his leavings. He'd give her a little poke, and let Barty do the same after. It wasn't like the wench was his wife or anything, “I can getter all warmed up ferya.”
Post by Bartholomew Everhard on Aug 16, 2024 21:44:50 GMT -5
“Oh you know me, Perky,” Bartholomew grinned, taking a swig of his drink, “I’m always more than happy to take up the rear.” He delighted in his own double-entendre, drawing circles on the rim of his glass as he waggled his eyebrows at his friend. Humph’s greatest asset is that there was no low he would not stoop to, so Barty never had to worry about putting a step wrong. It was liberating—to say what one thought, to act on their impulses, not to be judged. If only Mummie knew…
“Supposedly there’s some hidden fancy-man’s whore house in this city. New thing—all the buzz,” Barty said lazily, “Clean women, I hear. And fine liquor.” He did not know he was talking of @eliot’s establishment at all, though that's where the rumor he was spouting had originatedd. It was simply a little bit of gossip he was testing the waters with.
Post by Humphrey Titsworth on Aug 20, 2024 13:19:31 GMT -5
More drunken laughter. The amount of shame the two men shared between them would barely fill a thimble, and Perky would have it no other way. A hedonistic lifestyle was really all one could ever ask for as far as the moocher was concerned.
The mention of brothels made Perky, well, perk up. He loved a whore house, especially when he didn’t need to find something about the little extras that came with buying a skirt for an hour, “I think we oughtta go,” he said, “Leave our mark, I say,” a second to try to drink the drops left in his cup, “…unless they’re clean because they’re the sort of whores that don’t lift there skirts?” in other words, the boring kind.
Post by Bartholomew Everhard on Aug 23, 2024 20:11:51 GMT -5
Barty made a ‘pfffft’ noise. “If that’s the case, I suppose they just need a little tempting,” He took out another gold coin, spinning in between his long fingers, “What do you say we…” Barty trailed off as the serving girl returned. He bounced his eyebrows at Humph as the girl, clearly a little nervous, set down their drinks.
“Love—” Barty caught her wrist as she moved, preventing her from standing up, “My dear friend has a tip for your troubles…”