Time passes much more quickly in Rohandor and many long and happy years have gone by since the characters retired to enjoy their respective 'happily ever afters,' their greatest foes were imprisoned in the Forever Stone, bound in an eternal sleep. Until Now.
Happily Ever Afters takes place in Rohandor, a mystical realm on another plane of existence from our own. Here our favorite Disney heroes and villains live in a world all their own; Alive, but far from well. Heroes and heroines fight to keep peace while newly freed villains seek their revenge. Come join us in an epic adventure as the characters you love clash in a struggle that will determine the fate of Rohandor!
HEA is an AU canon-only animated crossover Disney Play-By-Post Role Play with minimal word count.
HEA Staff
News and Updates
4/24/21: We've been on hiatus for a number of years now. I don't know that I'm entirely ready to return BUT I have been cleaning up the site and working to update everything since a number of movies have released. There is still A LOT of work to do but if you see this update and were an active member of the site prior to the hiatus, please send the Yen Sid account a DM to let me know you're still interested in playing and if you wish to retain your current roster. I hope you've all been doing well and staying safe!
Happily Ever Afters is a play-by-post forum role playing game based on the movies and television series of Disney and Pixar. It was created for recreational and entertainment purposes only and not intended to step on any toes, offend, or infringe. We did not create nor do we own the content from the Disney and Pixar stories and movies. None of the threads and writing on this forum is associated or affiliated with Disney/Pixar in any way. We do not make any money off of this site or its content. The icons used in the Forum Information & Statistics and those like it throughout the board as well as the BBC buttons and smileys were taken from a layout called Absolute Madness made by PookyTart from Userbar Depot. All of the other graphics used on this board were found, created, or otherwise edited by Yen Sid or Te Fiti. Please don't steal or use any graphic from this board without explicit permission. All storylines and plots used in the threads/topics were created by the staff and members of HEA and should not be copied or used on another board without permission.
The storm had been upon them in the blink of an eye.
Really, it hadn't made any sense. One moment the skies were crystal clear and scattered with just a small number of clouds gilded with sunlight. The next? Thunderheads had turned the heavens to a boiling pot of tar and ink. Lightning came as frequent as one could blink, and the ship was being tempest-tossed. The ambassador aboard was not one to sit idly in the hold with the other passengers during the anarchy, either. Pocahontas forced Meeko and Flit to remain indoors, watched by a little girl who was on her way to the Isle of the Pen with her family.
The moment that Pocahontas was on the deck, she knew something was wrong. The storm was... Not right. Looking at it made her dizzy. A dizziness that had nothing to do with the rocking waves. Altogether, it was as though Pocahontas had missed a step. There was something that her heart knew was missing to this maelstrom, and its absence was sharp enough to startle her. Breathing heavily, Pocahontas had tried to help where she may. Some crates were sliding over the rain-slicked planks that she assisted in tying with rope.
The captain called to Pocahontas, and she made for the wheel, pausing to grasp onto a railing when the ship teetered suddenly left. Once there, the captain asked if there was anything she could do to disperse the storm, or calm it. Pocahontas was not unused to such requests. She was not a shaman, like Kekata of her tribe. Still, those around the ambassador were not blind. They could tell that there was something there. Some ability or insight that was not ordinary.
Pocahontas was shaking her head forlornly, about to voice the fact that she could not, when a wave towered over the entire ship. The seamen, experienced as they were, grabbed on for dear life anything near, be it rope, mast or rail. Pocahontas did not have this instinct. She simply stared, wide-eyed with mouth agape at the wall of water. The captain reached for her, and she extended her hand, but too late. The deck was washed with the tide of water, and Pocahontas was carried with it, over the edge and down, down, down.
Through the roiling tides, Pocahontas maintained composure through her panic. The darkness was absolute beneath the surface, but the flashing of lightning let her knew which way was up. The ambassador managed to get her head above water, and noticed a bit of driftwood wound with soggy rope nearby. Desperately, Pocahontas made for it, and the strength of her willowy limbs and unbending spirit allowed her to grasp hold of it. Once her arms were wrapped around the flotation device, Pocahontas looked up again and saw the ship she'd just been cast off of.
Now terribly far, being borne on the roaring seas even further from her as she watched.
Pocahontas couldn't let hopelessness claim her. She focused on staying afloat. Using the rope, which she realized now was a net, Pocahontas knotted her forearms in it, anchoring herself to the wood. She wasn't given a chance to think beyond that. Her adrenalin gave way to overwhelming fatigue. One last glimpse of lightning-laced clouds and then darkness.
Edward knew there was a storm coming. He could practically smell it in the air. Sailing wasn't necessarily his strong suit, but it was a subject in which he'd been tutored. Andalasia wasn't landlocked, but it didn't have a huge export business.
That particular area was growing, however, now that there were more trading partners available.
The King didn't have time to focus on the export business, however; he had a storm to deal with.
He might be the King, but he was not the Captain of this vessel, nor was he a sailor. Edward went on deck anyway, hoping to boost the moral of the men by showing them that he wasn't afraid, that he had faith that they could guide this ship safely to land.
With some hard work and careful maneuvering, that's exactly what his Captain managed to do.
"Thank you, Captain!" Edward exclaimed, clapping the man on the shoulder. "You and the men stay here to resupply and rest while I continue on my quest!"
The Captain nodded, exhausted. Fighting through storms was rough work, and they would need all the rest they could get before they headed back.
Edward disembarked from the vessel, taking a deep breath of the hot, dry air. He hoped that he could find this flower soon; this climate .... wasn't going to agree with him.
Last Edit: Mar 13, 2014 23:56:20 GMT -5 by Deleted
She did not know whether or not the tide had brought her in, and since receded, or if in some fatigued stupor she had crawled there to collapse. All Pocahontas knew for certain was that when she awoke, she was thirty meters or so inland.
The waters had carved a kind of grotto into the knobby, terracotta cliffs that rose behind her. Those earthen precipices were, actually, what Pocahontas' eyes first fell upon. The sun was above the rim of the world, and halfway to noon, causing slanting beams of light to fall on her refuge. The ambassador sat up. She pressed the back of one hand to her forehead in an attempt to stem the pulsing pain that was coming from her temples. She noted the cliffs that surrounded her on three sides, and the surf, near at hand that claimed that forth direction.
After that Pocahontas tried to make use of her other arm, but was unable. It took a pitifully long time for her to remember that it was the one most totally woven in the net from the night before, and still trussed in the slimy thing. Pocahontas pressed her lips together and exhaled through her nose to combat the pain in her head, then situated herself so that she could work towards her freedom. While Pocahontas continued, hands working without much direction, she looked around the cliff-shaded niche that she was in.
Wreckage was strewn about, which furthered the theory in Pocahontas' mind that the tides had borne her there. Likely, the Powhatan thought, when the ocean was at its highest the entire divot in the earth would be waterlogged. If not almost entirely. Shattered crates, their contents lost at sea, perhaps not as buoyant as their containers had the fortune to be were here and there. Nothing of use, that was certain. Pocahontas looked down and was shaken from her train of thought upon finding that she had properly freed herself from the netting.
Slowly, the ambassador stood. Dizziness swam over her senses momentarily, but with deep breaths Pocahontas fought the spell of vertigo away. She opened her eyes gradually and, once certain that another wave of faintness wasn't eminent, made to exit the little grotto. One strip of slender beach wound about the far cliff, and that is what she used to exit it. Pocahontas was glad that her feet were still clad in the hide shoes she used when away from home, because the sun-baked sand was so hot it would have certainly burnt the soles of her feet.
Once around the arm of the grotto, Pocahontas looked on to a very small beach between two arms of yet more rock faces. Her forehead creased in thought. The ship that she had been on may come looking for her, or another, for that matter. Yet, there was no sign of life on this particular beach. The only way that she would be found, waiting here, was if her luck was great enough that a scouting party happened close enough by to mark her presence. Pocahontas knew that she needed to investigate her surroundings further.
She had never been one to shy away from exploration.
Pocahontas eyed now the cliffs more carefully. They were a soft, powdered red and shaped by intense winds blowing in from the sea. Molded and smoothed with lines to mark the gusts' most often traveled paths creating naturally ledges. Easy to climb. She just needed to find the right spot. Pocahontas spied the perfect place, a crease in two folds of the rock faces wide enough for her to scale by applying pressure on either side of the divot. Pocahontas took one more chance to look across the sea, ensuring no ship was visible, then she began her ascent.
As Edward travelled through the hot desert of the Isle of the Lamp, he began to desperately wish he'd worn a different outfit. His usual kingly garb was perfect for Andalasia's rather moderate weather, but it was far too heavy for this heat.
Not only that, he was fairly certain he had started wandering in circles. Hadn't he seen that particular sand dune before? And wasn't that the same rock he'd passed not too terribly long ago.
Though he hated to admit it, Edward, King of Andalasia, was lost.
He was lost in the middle of the desert on the Isle of the Lamp, and he had no idea how anyone would be able to find him.
He was going to die out here! And then Nancy would have to rule Andalasia on her own, which she was perfectly capable of doing, but he doubted that she would want to.
Nancy. If he died here in the desert, he was never going to see Nancy again.
Which in his mind, was a fate far worse than death.
To heck with this! He was going to live, no matter what it took!
Scaling the cliff was much easier than Pocahontas had anticipated. Many trees back in Jamesville had proved more challenging, in fact. The grooves that were etched into the soft stone were so numerous, and Pocahontas' skill at climbing so impressive, that there wasn't a single area that had offered trouble to her. At last, her fingers curled over the top of the rock, and she hefted herself upward. Pocahontas' head just lifted above the cliff when her eyes went quickly wide in surprise, then narrowed by instinct.
There came, barreling down on the Powhatan, a dry, withering wind that terribly warm. Flecks of sea foam that had beaded the young woman's face as she climbed crystallized, baked in a moment into salt that irritated her skin. Pocahontas slowly pulled herself onto the top of the cliff, crouching, and looked out to see rolling dunes of sand. Like the largest beach in the world, stretching in folds and creases all the way to a wavering horizon.
Pocahontas was struck with a sense of bipolarity. On one side the wind from the ocean came up, wet and crisp. On the other the, and before her, came the sweltering gale that whistled over the cliff from the sand. Pocahontas had heard tales in her travels of this place. The Isle of the Lamp, she guessed it must be. No other place in Rohandor possessed terrain the same way. It was called a "desert," and Pocahontas could now see plainly why. There looked to be nothing at all that she could see from the feet of the cliffs that bordered the sea to the horizons.
The ambassador knew that she needed to stay put. Only a very foolish person would go into the desert ill-prepared. Waiting by the ocean with driftwood was a better idea than braving the Isle of the Lamp hoping to find civilization. Pocahontas was about to slip back over the rock face and head down to the sea again when something caught her eye. There was a speck wandering along the top of one dune, almost past her sight. Pocahontas straightened, the wind made her silky hair thrash this way and that as cold sea gale and hot desert blow competed for dominion over it.
Pocahontas screened her hand against the relentless sun with one hand. Yes, it was definitely a human, not some creature. The way that they tottered this way and that lead the Powhatan to believe that they may be lost. Pocahontas did not hesitate. She would not sit idly by and let this poor soul to die in the desert. If she kept her head, she could make a brief foray into the inhospitable environment, collect them, and help them back to the site where she'd washed ashore. Considering all went well, she would be back to this spot in under an hour.
Pocahontas took one last look at the sea behind her, then leaped off of the other side of the rock face, down into the dunes.
Even as the King wandered through the desert, he cursed the sand that was all around him. The tops of his boots hadn't been anywhere near the stuff, but there was still sand in them. How that had happened, he wasn't quite sure, but he did not like it.
The discomfort he felt, though, would be worth it when he presented the flower for which he was searching to Nancy. She might tell him that he was silly for going to such trouble, but to see her smile.....it was all worth it.
If he made it back to Andalasia, that is.
But he wasn't going to even stop to think about that at all; he would make it back to Andalasia, if the had to die trying.
.....wait, something about that didn't add up.
Clearly, the sun was getting to him, if he had started to think like that.
It was then that he saw another person, there, in that awful desert. But was she (at least, he thought it was a woman, but from this distance, he wasn't 100% certain) really there? Or was his heat-addled brain playing tricks on him?
There was only one way to find out.
"Excuse me, peasant!" he called, waving. "I seem to be lost! Can you help me?"
The sun was sweltering, and baked the dunes so that she felt as though she was in the largest oven in existence. Wind should have been welcome to fight the uncomfortable heat, but it did not. All that the howling gusts did was whip sand up into the air, matting Pocahontas' hair with grains, stinging her eyes and increasing the rate that moisture was sapped from her cheeks. The Powhatan was grateful for the light slippers that she wore. They did not make treading the boiling desert enjoyable, simply bearable. Had Pocahontas been barefoot, she would have been burnt within several meters.
Pocahontas knew better than to run. Haste was important, obviously. The sooner she collected this wayward soul and returned to the site that she had awoke, the better. No hospitable place she had seen from the cliffs along the shore, and from that height her field of vision had stretched from horizon to horizon. Pocahontas, and the person she was retrieving, would more likely die before they found civilization. Running would have made her warm to the point of chancing a heatstroke, and drain her vitality as cruelly as this environment swallowed life.
Within a half hour of purposeful walking, Pocahontas crested a fold in the sandy bosom of the desert and was suddenly very close to her goal. At this distance, she could make him out to be... She thought it was a man. In the face, he looked to be male, but Pocahontas was caught off guard by the swollen, puffy shoulders of his attire. Shading her eyes with a hand, Pocahontas' debate was settled when the voice of the wanderer - decidedly male - called out to her.
The ambassador thought on the word that he used toward her for a moment. She decided that she did not like it. Pocahontas pressed her lips together wryly and she descended to him. "Are you all right?" she asked, sincerely, but perhaps a little briskly. "I know a place where ships likely pass, along the coast. It is... Better than here." Pocahontas motioned for him to follow her. The sooner they returned to the shore, the better. There they could forage for flotsam supplies, among other things. Pocahontas turned, meaning for this stranger to follow.
When Pocahontas reached the crest of the dune from before, she paused. Her eyes went wide - able to do so because the wind was (at the moment) to her back. The horizon was invisible. Blotted out by a huge mass of airborne sand. Gargantuan walls of beige rose ominously before the unlikely companions. There came a sound of wailing wind, distantly, but gaining in volume. The sandstorm was building, and surging toward the pair.
The young woman who had stumbled across the King was unlike anyone he'd ever met before. Yes, he'd met plenty of people when he was visiting the city called New York, but this woman was different from most of those people. For one thing, her clothing seemed to be made of materials that one could find in nature. And she seemed like she was more ... connected to nature than people from the city had been.
Of course, that was just a guess, based solely on appearances; Edward wasn't the best at determining things about people just on the way they looked. After all, looks didn't necessarily reflect what was in a person's heart. If that was the case, Narissa would be rather ugly.
He almost didn't hear what the young woman said, he was so caught up in his thoughts. Once he'd realized what she'd said, he smiled.
"Oh, thank you, my good woman!" he said brightly. "But I have a ship waiting for me in the harbor; I'm just looking for this flower," he told her, pulling an illustration from his doublet. "Have you seen anything like it, by any chance?" The sooner he got this flower, the sooner he could get back to Nancy.
Before he could say anything else, the woman had climbed to the top of the dune where he was currently standing. He watched her, a puzzled expression on his face. Until he saw her expression. She looked quite ... concerned. But perhaps that wasn't quite a strong enough word for it. There was fear in her eyes, as well as concern.
With a frown, Edward climbed the dune to stand next to her.
"What is it?" he asked, turning to look in the direction of her gaze. Once he saw what had caught her attention, he simply stared, open-mouthed. "What is it?" he repeated, his voice a fearful whisper. He'd never seen anything like it before.
Pocahontas had never seen a desert before, let alone a sandstorm. She was awestruck to a degree, yes, but not dumbstruck. The phenomenon rising terribly before her was easy enough to riddle out. She had experienced terrible storms back in Jamesville, blown in and fed by the sea. This, though, wailed like a thunderstorm's polar opposite. Borne from everything that the ocean was not. Pocahontas could scarcely hear the spirits in this place. They were always the strongest closest to the land of her heritage, but never wholly mute. In the desert, so far removed from so many living things, stuck in the arid and withering landscape they had been desolate and far-removed. Now as Pocahontas stared on toward the walls of stirred up sand, and the man from before ascended beside her, they intoned a warning.
Pale golden symbols that were normally potent, but made now distant and dim by the harsh sunlight of the desert whispered by Pocahontas' ear. The spirits' outcry only affirmed what the ambassador had assumed initially: this was a terrible thing. Very suddenly, the Powhatan turned. She knew at once from the look on the strange man's face that it would take a little prompting to get him to move; too stunned by the sandstorm was he. Pocahontas snatched his gloved hand in her own and sprang lithely down the opposite side of the dune. She really didn't think that verbal instruction was necessary, nor did she have the time to dedicate to it, though already she knew that her companion was a verbose type.
Over the moan and growing scream of the wind that made up the sandstorm, Pocahontas could hear scarcely anything. The wind was shifted now. Moments ago it had been headed toward the sandstorm where Pocahontas and the man were, but now the masses of air currents that were stirring up the phenomenon had reached them; the forefront and scarcely laden scouting party for the dense, scouring main force at their backs. Pocahontas strove to hear the lingering voice of the spirits as she pulled the man behind her, displaying uncanny strength as she did so. They weren't only warning her, they were imploring her to heed their instruction.
There was... Something... Something that would help them. Something... If only she could hear!
At the moment when all seemed the most hopeless, and the forefront of the sandstorm crested the dune that they had first beheld it upon, Pocahontas stopped, ignoring any would-be protest of the man, and keeping her clutch on his wrist. She closed her eyes and focused, willing every other sound to blot out. Seconds before they were overtaken Pocahontas' eyes sprang open. She pulled the man along and to the side. They surged between two arms of a dune to were a shadowed entrance of a mostly-buried, long-forgotten building lay. Just as the wail of the sandstorm hit, they plunged into darkness.
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Shoutbox
Welcome to Happily Ever Afters!
Tony Dracon: Responded to your PM, Kat/Ratigan, incidentally.
Jun 27, 2018 20:25:02 GMT -5
David Xanatos: Kat's back. Hope the vacation was fun.
Jul 21, 2018 21:00:05 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: 'Twas a good trip! I'm sad it's over, but at the same time I'm glad to be back home so I can finish up my cosplays for a con next month and hang out with my cats
Jul 26, 2018 12:34:56 GMT -5
Basil of Baker Street: Hope the cosplay goes well. I'm putting away a little extra for a con in a few weeks. and yay cats, they're always good company. Except for that one who slaps me unprovoked XD. So what cosplays do you have in mind unless they're secret?
Jul 26, 2018 17:07:41 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: I'm cosplaying Pearl from Steven Universe and Joseph Joestar from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure!
Jul 26, 2018 23:16:41 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: I'm almost done both of them, I just have to finish styling Pearl's wig and fix up Joseph's gloves and wristbands
Jul 26, 2018 23:17:31 GMT -5
Basil of Baker Street: Awesome. Had to look up Jojo because I'm not hip with the modern pop culture but I hope they turn out well.
Jul 30, 2018 15:33:15 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: I only just started watching the anime last year and I haven't even touched the manga, so I'm barely hip with it lol. fortunately I have my cosplay buddy guiding me through the whole experience
Jul 30, 2018 22:29:38 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: also I finally finished the gloves! They were more of a pain to work with than I expected, but they'll hold together... I hope...
Jul 30, 2018 22:30:13 GMT -5
Basil of Baker Street: Niceness. Hoping they hold also. Got the Dublin comic con next Saturday here. Hoping to meet Karl Urban.
Aug 1, 2018 19:05:32 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: Cool! I think he's coming to my city in the fall, if I remember correctly. Hope you enjoy the con, Daryl!
Aug 2, 2018 19:10:23 GMT -5
Basil of Baker Street: I spoke too soon. Karl Urban had to cancel for schedule conflicts. They got Nick Frost though, I'm gonna ask him if he'll sign my Hot Fuzz.
Aug 3, 2018 18:08:47 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: Dang! Nick Frost is great though, I love his character in Into the Badlands
Aug 4, 2018 22:54:36 GMT -5
Basil of Baker Street: Enjoy your weekend Kat, hope the costumes came out as you wanted.
Aug 10, 2018 16:49:31 GMT -5
Basil of Baker Street: Met Nick Frost and Michael Dorn at the weekend. Both very nice blokes.
Aug 13, 2018 15:22:59 GMT -5
Dodger: Happy 2019 everyone
Jan 1, 2019 10:54:04 GMT -5
Yen Sid: If anyone is passing by I posted a Hiatus update. Hope everyone is doing well!
Apr 18, 2021 11:31:09 GMT -5
Yen Sid: I've temporarily disabled account creation while I update the site. Sorry for the inconvenience and thanks for your patience!
May 9, 2021 18:31:45 GMT -5
Owen Burnett/Puck: Checked the site again and saw the update! Here's hoping to a revitalized 2022.
Dec 15, 2021 14:41:27 GMT -5