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!
Post by Octavius Wulfbrand on Mar 23, 2023 23:30:52 GMT -5
They weren’t listening. They just weren’t listening. To be fair, the majority was, but there were still too many doing as they pleased. Disobeying orders. Whether the Coheedsmen liked it or not, they were Nevermerean now, and when a Nevermerean was given an order by a soldier they were expected to obey it.
“You there!” Octavius called to Catrin who wasn’t too far off, battling the fire. She would recognize him as he drew nearer, hopefully with Kat in tow, as the two of them had started training the Parabolti of late.
Post by Willa Wren on Mar 23, 2023 23:31:49 GMT -5
She flew through the air with the greatest of easy, but landing wasn’t so easy. Each launch put her thirty feet easy into the air and catapulted her a good forty yards. She was like a bouncing kangaroo, except invisible, the only evidence of her presence the sunken earth where she landed, sometimes skidded.
Wren reached the scene in little time. Her final jump set her landing at just beyond the greatest part of the fire, almost at the docks but not quite. She stood from her crouch, still invisible, and set her gaze on Rian as he moved around the fire to command his people.
Her voice would come from darkness, but it wouldn’t be the first time Rian had heard it this way.
Testing his shoulder, Grant peered out at the flames and the shadows moving just beyond them.
He'd seen plans go better, but then again he wasn't dead and there was no way Regan could kill herself with her own fire, he repeated a few times mentally. Since the metal had stopped whipping around, things were under control.
He stayed put, trying to make out where the hell Regan and Othello were over the din--or anyone else, really. The fire had lit up the night but it sure didn't care to work in a kindly, candle-like manner.
**CN:** Some minor efforts were being made to snuff out the fire, and they were mostly successful. There was, however, a lot of fire, and it felt hotter and seemed to burn hungrier than a typical flame. As Nevermerean soldiers ushered Coheedsmen and women away, they’d find that the fire would be left to their efforts, and that a lack of tending to it could lead to the burning of Coheed as a whole.
Upon Regan’s insistence, Othello was abandoned by Rian. Ellison escorted Rian and Eowyn, carried by the Chieftain, to the docks, not far from where Grant stood. Upon setting Eowyn down, Rian began to bark orders. Over the burning fire only those with enhanced hearing could discern what he had to say. Rian then began to make his way around the fire and towards the people, assuming he was not stopped. It was on that path that he would hear the voice of Wren in his ear.
Ellison, Grant, and Eowyn were left standing on the docks together. Eowyn would find that she could move once more, as the curse Kat had set on her had been released.
Kaalim, still seeing multiple, set the small boat he carried onto the fire and had a few short seconds to use it as a bridge, the flames still licking up around the edges, the path still an extremely hot and uncomfortable one, before the fire would start to consume the wooden boat. It, coupled with his thick skin, was just enough time to see him across without burning. He was now just a leap away from Regan. A chant was moving Regan’s lips as she turned to face Kaalim, raising her hands in a gesture that implied that she meant him no harm.
Rael stood not far from Kaalim and Regan, invisible, watching, waiting.
Catrin was at work to fight the fire, ignoring the Nevermereans, likely ignoring Octavius as he approached her and demanded that she return to her home.
[Post Order: Kaalim, Regan, Rael, and then everyone else in no specific order.]
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Post by Kaalim Cyrilson on Apr 6, 2023 11:48:05 GMT -5
There was a light sweat from the heat breaking out across his grey skin, his white glowing eyes were locked on the Witch and the Gifted man who knew as Othello. He knew him well because the man Kaalim had given him a place to live here. But the voice of Kaalim's brother carried loudly over the dying chaos, his head turned in it's direction as he heard the command. With a final snort the Beast recognized that Rian was the Chieftain and if he didn't want to fight then it wasn't the time, he yielded with a grunt at the Witch.
Post by Regan Lassiter on Apr 6, 2023 11:49:57 GMT -5
Regan exhaled, acknowledging Kaalim with a polite nod. She was still murmuring as a foul, winged creature emerged from a swirling chasm that opened up in the earth. The creature would do its mistress’s bidding. If any intervened or tried to attack the creature, Regan would be ready to defend it while it carried on its task. It would snatch up Othello in its arms and fly high to 'ferry him to safety,' and eventual justice for having 'attacked' an official of Nevermere—or so she’d have them believe. The creature would carry Othello high, high in the air, keeping an eye on its witch. If Othello awoke and tried to attack the creature, he’d find himself hurtling toward earth with lethal velocity. But that wasn’t bound to happen anytime soon.
“Get everyone back!” Regan called out to the beast that was Kaalim, releasing her hold on the flames. They wouldn’t extinguish immediately, but the fuel that kept them from petering out would be turned off. Those fighting the fire would find their efforts starting to be more successful.
RAEL: They had no place here. The witches and the men that followed them. The Nevermerans who dared to bark orders at his people. With his fist closed right around the stone in his hand, Rael seethed. He watched Rian Cyrilson do as they said. He glared at the fire licking at the night sky. At the witches. At Othello.
And then he turned, pivoting in the sand to search for the voice shouting over the crackle of the flames and the din of voices rising from the village. Wren? Taking a step toward the docks, Rael searched for the Cambrian, dark eyes straining against the shadows dancing across the shore in search of a woman who wasn’t there when it happened—
The creature appeared out of nowhere, a grotesque, impossible thing darting past his periphery—
Rael spun, staggering backward as he gaped at the monster lifting Othello from the shore. His fist tightened around the stone in his palm. His other hand lifted. He could drop the scythe, reach for Victory. In the span of three breaths, he could level them all.
But he’d have to sacrifice Othello to do it.
Invisible on the shore with his scythe still in hand, Rael hesitated.
GRANT: Grant turned his head to see Ellison Delaney approaching along with a man carrying a woman. Huh. The man put the lady down and buzzed off, yelling over the fire.
"Hi, Lady Captain," he said, bright as ever, probably not as obviously bleeding in the dark. He was about to ask if she'd seen Regan when a horrible shape flew out of the flames. Grant looked up at the awful thing and then figured out where Regan probably was. Right, so, still in the fire. He looked around, trying to make her out, listening for her voice.
EOWYN: It was slow but Eowyn could being to move again, her heart was racing, she had never been under such a fearful situation. Sure beat up, nearly raped but she could have defended herself or fought in those moments this was....
...through gritted teeth Eowyn the young embarrassed friengtend girl whistled for Enned and returned to dwelling.
Catrin's head whipped up as she tossed her latest bucket of water on the flames, eyes turning to search for the source of the command. She spotted the figure, squinting through the dark until she recognized the forms of Octavius and Kat.
Catrin immediately frowned in annoyance, flinging a hand out towards the flames licking towards the buildings. "Our village is about to be on fire, and you want me to just go home and not help to save it?"
She shook her head, marching by him to get her next bucket of water. As she brushed by she barely kept the sneer from her face. "Perhaps you should assist in putting out the flames rather than ordering us home." It was a bold move to snap back at the soldiers, even for Catrin, but she would not run home like a useless woman when her people and her village were in danger.
The only thing keeping his raging fear of the dark away was the fire that was lit. The chaos overrode the rest of it as he kept barking the same orders, even if they tasted like poison on his tongue. He felt like all he was saying was ‘submit’. And his knees were refusing to buckle. But he almost jumped out of his skin by the voice he heard. But it was his little Angel. Never would say it out loud though.
“She took Othello.” He looked back to where the summon was starting to lift the man. “I don’t believe her story but they,” he looked at the scattering of people. Some still standing in shock, some rushing to put out fires, some moving towards their homes… “they are not ready to push back yet.” He bit out and looked in the direction he heard the voice but saw nothing.
Post by Octavius Wulfbrand on Apr 8, 2023 7:49:55 GMT -5
"I want you to obey orders, soldier." Octavius returned to Catrin, an edge in his voice uncommon for the typically lighthearted man. Kat would hear it, and no doubt be on the alert, if she was not already.
"I know you think I'm the enemy, but I'm not. You are Nevermerean. Your village is my village." The edge left his voice for his final words. "I won't let anything happen to her." His personal promise. He would toil for the remaining hours of the morning to see that this fire was extinguished. This soldier, however, needed to act lie a soldier, or she wouldn't remain in the military.
Octavius reached to take the bucket she was using from her hands.
Wren's hand shot out to grab a firm hold of Rian's arm. She was still invisible, thus he wouldn't see it coming, and she had the strength of forty men in that hand, so getting out of the hold would be impossible for him. It wasn't a hold that would hurt, but it was a certain one.
"What was that name?" She asked, her voice a rasp below a whisper. He could not see her, but her face had gone pale and she was certain she hadn't heard her own heart beat in seconds.
Othello. The killer of her beloved sister. The man they had let land in Cambria and then paid for with the blood of their people. Othello. A gifted who could control metal. Her eyes fell to the scene now as realization took hold. A gifted she had sworn to kill.
Wren didn't need him to say it again. She released him, and he wouldn't need enhanced sense to know she was no longer beside him.
No, Wren was sprinting, blazing through the flames that could do nothing to her skin and only singe the edges of her clothing. She took the most direct course to reach Regan, the witch's back to Wren, attention on Kaalim, and upon reaching her Wren would seek to take a firm hold of the woman's arm, just as she had Rian. Still invisible.
**CN:** The creature that sprang up out of the ground was too horrifying for any Coheedsman paying attention or close enough to even think about attacking. It successfully grabbed up the limp body of Othello and soared into the air above the chaos. The second hand smoke his shallow breathing would inhale wasn't great for his lungs, but considering all the fire, Regan didn't seem overly concerned.
When Regan released her hold on the flames those trying to put them out would find themselves having a much easier time of it. The intensity of the fire dulled every so slightly, and rather than burning vigorously the fire dulled and softened, as if tired.
Kaalim, still close to the Nevermerean, did not advance on her. He held his ground and, with a grunt, appeared to be content to simply stand by. Whether he chose to obey the witch's command was yet to be seen.
Rael, still invisible, stumbled around, uncertain where to go next or what he wanted to do. Good thing his invisibility bought him all the time in the world.
Grant attempted to start up a conversation with Ellison, but his cousin-in-law, still salty from her exchange with Regan, ignored him as her cold gaze remained set on the scene within the dying fire.
No one stopped Eowyn from exiting, full of shame. Today was not her day but maybe next time.
Catrin did as she pleased, and Octavius tried to win the woman over with sincerity while Kat looked on. Good luck, chum.
Willa Wren…well, she didn’t have enhanced speed, but the strength of twenty men in her legs due to the enchantments all over her body meant that the speed with which she raced to Regan was even greater than a man with enhanced speed. She was focused on giving directions to Kaalim and releasing her fire and…she’d feel the press of something on her arm, but when she looked she would see nothing. It was like the weight of a bad dream.
[ Post order: No post order, but Regan needs to go before Wren. ]
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**ELLISON:** She must have been stunned for a moment longer before her brain processed Grant’s words. Her stormy eyes meeting him and almost softening there in front of him. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” She commented, before she let her gaze move over him. “Are you okay?” Noticing the darker planks under him where he was dripping water onto the ground. Doing a quick assessment but the darkness didn’t help her see the color difference on his shirt.
If he said he was injured, she’d reach for the healing potion in her possession and offer it to him before she’d set off to help regain control. She’d head for the edge of the fire that still wasn’t out and started chanting, until a giant blast of water shot out from her and started hitting the outer edges of the flames and quickly stopping it. Doing quick bursts as she couldn’t control the water once it actually left her. Hoping her example would spark the others to attempt putting out the rest of the flames. Or wet the ground at least to keep them from spreading to the homes.
Catrin's eyes blazed with temper and she swung the bucket out of Octavius's reach.
"If you meant any of those words, then you would not be forcing Coheed's own warriors away."
He spoke like he saw her as an equal, but his commands were those for someone lesser. She certainly did not feel Nevermeran. Why was he, as a soldier, allowed to help when she was to be sent away as a Coheed warrior?
"Send the women who are not warriors back to their homes. Leave me to help my kingdom. Punish me later if you feel so strongly about it. There is no time for this silly argument."
And with that she ran off. Rian had said to protect their homes, and that was what she would do, continuing to ferry water to the flames closest to huts.
Post by Regan Lassiter on Apr 8, 2023 9:59:20 GMT -5
**REGAN:** Regan felt Wren’s squeeze on her arm. Gentle as it was, her natural assumption was that it was a Nevermerean, perhaps someone—Grant— trudging through the flames to retrieve her. She spun reflexively to see just who it was.
No one.
Whether she was able to break the hold or not (most likely not), Regan bared her fangs as her amber eyes surged. She was still half-shifted, so with a sense of smell tens of thousands of times more powerful than that of a human, Regan would smell two distinct figures within the flames: Rael and Wren—though one much, much closer than the other.
The invisible figure’s touch was not aggressive, so Regan had no reason to respond with aggression. But the panic of a trapped animal had been triggered by Wren’s hold. It was the kind of feeling that urged the wolf to shift (though she didn’t).
“Show yourself,” Regan barked. Othello flew higher and higher—up beyond the clouds but not away from its mistress. The air would be thin enough that the metal manipulator would find it difficult to breathe.