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!
Isolde remained unconvinced on the Magda matter. But, whatever her intentions, she knew men of Coheed had their own horrific ways of bringing their women to heel. Isolde idly wondered if Rian were such a man. To her own surprise, Isolde found she cared very little either way. Cambria was all that mattered.
“You intend to bring the Dresmondi into the fold?” Isolde raised an eyebrow, intrigued, “Have the Nevermereans not given them refuge? What interest would they have in turning on their saviors?” The word savior was positively saturated with bitter disdain.
“They haven’t. Not at this time. But I have a feeling if we don’t offer the refuge, Nevermere will jump at the opportunity. It’s another kingdom to get under them.” He kept steady eyes on Isolde. “Arynn Frey has offered such refuge, but will not step into Dresmond nor give them items to fight the Eldouir’s. We can offer them a freedom to their people. Nevermere seems interested in the Dresmondi, at least enough that the King’s Witch seemed inclined to talk to the Dresmondi in Coheed after their fight. Alone. Let Nevermere fight the gifteds. Sights set there, sending the fire power they would need to… we take Nevermere then.”
Because Rian’s men had been on the receiving end of Nevermere magic… he didn’t want to blindly charge into Nevermere.
Isolde watched without reaction. Her gaze picked apart the young now-chieftain with an appraising air. Whatever it was she saw, Isolde seemed to find it wanting.
“You intend to fight the Red Devils? Become freedom fighters for the Dresmondi, when you couldn’t even protect your own?” It was a low blow toward Kaalim, but she didn’t care. Isolde couldn’t keep the edge of irritation out of her voice. Had she really been called out here for this? For Coheed to claim they could secure freedom for Dresmond against the Eldouirs.
Perhaps she was misunderstanding him. She rather hoped she was.
“No,” he directly stared at Isolde. “You misunderstand.” It wasn’t meant to sound rude, but he tried another angle. “Nevermere fights the Redheads. We give refuge. They seemed to find us needing training as they keep pushing new flocks of soldiers and ‘trainers’ our way. Which is why I want our women coming to you. Or,” his eyes cut to Wren then, “Wren coming to them.” It was his request. Wren was a competent woman, more than able to handle herself, and he knew she’d push for their women to get it together and quickly.
“Let us focus our efforts towards the next biggest issue. Nevermere.” Us, meaning Cambria and Coheed together. That’s what he meant by sending fire power. Send more witches and the like to Dresmond. They have battled gifted before, which means less left behind in Nevermere. “I want your thoughts. I’m-“ he did want to glance at Kaalim as if you ask for permission but instead squared his shoulders. “I’m open to whatever you think might work better. I want us to work together.”
Post by Kaalim Cyrilson on Oct 15, 2022 12:53:45 GMT -5
Kaalim wouldn't waste his breath not anymore, it was the wildest thing to him as much as he had always tried to repair the damage done by former chieftains to just be spat on and pushed away. It had always been his dream to have Coheed and Cambria together, he took a rattling smack to the face defending them when Fahrengar wanted to use them as cattle for slaughter, he detested having to march on them with his Father, and even gave back their magical item.
They were so enraptured by their own petty bitterness that they couldn't see Rian and Kaalim were wanting to be on the same team. He was truly done hearing their woe is me power to the woman bullshit. He was just tired of being told what to do and doing it and everyone just critzied critzied critzied him, however he kept that to himself. Isolde was a painted faced jester to him, a fool and as much as he had always tried to have a relationship with his daughters she did everything in her power to see that not happen. He wished for their slow demise in all actuality, because they would drown if they never climbed off their little soap box.
Post by Willa Wren on Mar 26, 2023 14:46:29 GMT -5
Wren’s gaze was level and her lips a firm line. She, like Kaalim, would not interject in this conversation. The two of them were accessories here.
She inwardly scoffed at Rian’s suggestion. Cambria was where it was today—independent from Coheed—because of the centuries of oppression of their women. One man and his brother doing something different didn’t undo generation upon generation of mistrust. Isolde and Wren were bitter, it was true, but their bitterness was a result of the hands of Kaalim’s forefathers, and of his father. He could no more fault them for that than they should fault him for being born with a penis. Yet they did. The cycle of bitterness ran deep, to the core of Cambria’s origins, and no supposed well-meaning Coheedsman, even if united by a common enemy, would ever become a trusted ally with just one heartfelt speech. Building a relationship of trust and respect took years. Crumbling it took seconds. It was wise that Kaalim kept his mouth closed.
Isolde’s eyebrow raised as Rian spoke. As far as she was concerned, she had no reason to give the Coheedsman the benefit of the doubt. Coheed had failed. Kaalim had bended just as Kore had to let the Nevermereans in. She knew the size and strength of their forces, as she knew her own. Perhaps together, yes, they had hope. But if Cambria stepped too soon, if they put trust in Coheed that turned out to be misplaced, Isolde and her daughters would pay with their lives.
She waited for a long moment. Isolde’s expression was pleasant, though vaguely condescending. After a time, she spoke.
“I want proof that you are an asset and not a liability, chieftain. You say you have an Arynnite at your use. So, bring me something useful,” Isolde smiled, tilting her head to the side, “Consider it a token of good will.” She folded her hands in her lap as if it were decided.
“In the meantime, I will send one of my warriors to assist with training. Should they find your leadership promising, we will reconvene. Until then…” Isolde glanced at Kaalim before refocusing her attention on Rian, “Remember who the enemy is, chieftain. Regardless of who it is you take into your bed.”
It wasn’t a no. He’d take it. Now he had to see how Ellora was holding up and if she was no longer mad at his brother. He had never been particularly close to the woman, never a bad time to start though.
“I want Wren to be the trainer. I offered for them to come here, you said you will send someone.” He directed his gaze back to the blonde at Isolde’s side. While Isolde spoke in riddles and games, Rian was direct. He didn’t want to play any games. Kaalim had tried to play nice, Rian was playing nice… to an extent. “And trust me,” his eyes flickered back to Isolde after a pregnant pause. “I have not forgotten.”
Post by Willa Wren on Mar 29, 2023 14:44:54 GMT -5
Wren had been straight faced and stony eyed as she listened in on the conversation, present but only a presence, like a tree that could not be ignored but was also insignificant to what was said. At the mention of her name, however, her shock was readily shown on her face. Her frown followed, suspicion chasing a rabbit concerning why Rian might be requesting her. She probably should have felt honored, but instead she felt confused. They hadn't agreed when they had last spoken. Then again, Wren would rather it was her than one of her Cambrian sisters.
"I'll go." She said, stepping out of line. Her eyes immediately flashed to Isolde, "If you wish it." But it was too late for that, wasn't it? She had already spoken and now Isolde could either contradict her in front of these Coheedsmen, or else agree and maintain their united front.
The Coheedsman wouldn't see it, but Wren would: the tiny click in Isolde's jaw as Wren spoke first. Her daughter's boldness was a knife that cut two ways, and now Isolde was starting to feel the other edge of the blade. Wren was correct -- for the priestess to contradict her now would undermine both of their authority. But Isolde filed this little interaction away as validating her decision to elevate Revna. Wren was lost...but perhaps she'd find purpose in Coheed.
"You'll return with them," Isolde said with finality. No need for Wren to trouble herself with a return trip. She'd made her wishes known. The priestess did stand then, marking the end of their discussion. "Three weeks, Rian of Coheed," Isolde said, "You have three weeks to prove that you're as serious as you say. If you are..." She smiled softly, "Perhaps there is hope for our people yet."
Hope was a word Isolde was beginning not to understand.