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!
The primary application of his Gift, which is Metalkinesis, is the mental control over magnetism and the manipulation of both ferrous and nonferrous metal.
Level 10; Arynnite ship with the ability to both fly and submerge fully under water. THE DROWNED CANARY.*Temporarily deactivated*
Post by Othello Allemeade on Jan 16, 2023 8:55:05 GMT -5
Regan's word was law here and the big Gifted man with a collar around his throat nodded, "Yes ma'am Huntsman," and turned his attention to Berry Girl following her lead to where she was going to set up her tent, "What is your name Berry girl? You seem to know mine, you look like a baby, I feel like I am surrounded by children mostly," besides Regan, himself, and Woodwick (the other chaperone) were fairly older than the faces her surveyed, "and no sir business please, it's Champion if you get down to brass tax. Champion of Nevermere Othello or Othello Champion of Nevermere."
As he helped the girl and kept conversation he couldn't stop thinking that he heard a challenge being issued by @cyrus about the hunt. Othello enjoyed a contest and competition, also how else could he gage his progress with the Huntsman? They all looked like they had never been smacked in the face much less knocked out, but life had the remedy for that. If War was Nevermere's next course then life would be smacking mouths left and right real soon, but Othello figured this group needed it before war day.
Post by Zarha Sliva on Jan 16, 2023 15:50:27 GMT -5
Zahra's tent wasn't far away from the group she possible wanted it a little bit more out but she thought that it would be best if they are stayed together. "To be fair sir, they are pretty testy by maybe you have to show me. plus I am always down for hunting." She smiled softly when Regan informed Othello to inform her when they go hunting.
Zarha listened to @cyrus talk a soft smile on her face as her and Othello put up the tent she can put up one fine by herself but she know she need to trust people and accept help even if she would prefer it to do it alone. "Well I do love a good challenge Mr Cyrus Parric. One I cannot deny myself." Her and Othello can make a plan to work together to hunt well that if Regan allowed her to work with him for this task that is.
When Othello Allemeade asked her what her name. "Name is Just Zarha Sir Oth.. I mean Champion Othello. I wouldn't say I am a baby, I am eighteen years old. So you are up for the challenge that Cyrus set?" She asked him.
When @elletta answered his question, Ber glanced back over at Othello Allemeade , head tilted slightly as he considered the other man. “A punchable face? I can see it,” He agreed, grinning.
The decision to hunt was made, with the designated cook suggesting that he wouldn’t mind fresh meat in lieu of whatever provisions they’d been provided. Given that he would reap the benefits of their efforts without having to put in the extra effort himself, Ber would hardly attempt to change a decision to hunt, unnecessary though it was. Only a fool turned down freely offered freshly caught food.
Ber nodded in agreement when Haider suggested that the new soldier join their group. While the new guy accepted the invitation and introduced himself as @cyrus , Ber found himself glancing around again and happened to lock eyes with Regan Lassiter as she looked over in their direction. After silently acknowledging her with a slight nod and a smile, he turned back to Parric and held out a hand to shake. “Berengar Stormcrest.” Once names were exchanged and Parric suggested they make their way toward the provisions, Ber nodded and meandered over to investigate the wagon alongside the other man.
Inside, he found the usual staples: some dried meat, some vegetables, and some bread. Nothing overly exciting - food in the military never was - but edible all the same. “Better than nothing.” The soldier glanced at Parric and shrugged again. “We can bring some of this back and hope the other two find something better.” On their way back to the fire, provisions in hand, Ber asked, “So, how long have you been a soldier?”
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jan 16, 2023 18:35:20 GMT -5
Regan jumped a little when @warren sat. It was only then that she’d zoned out a little. Thankfully, Othello was still within sight, which made her breathe a little sigh of relief. “So far so good,” Regan said with deep and obvious exhaustion, “Truth be told, I think I’m having a tougher time than he is. Sometimes it feels like I’m weaning a baby.” The liquor - coupled with cumulative stress - was already loosening her tongue. She reached for the flask again now, taking a quick sip before discreetly holding it out to Warren.
Still no sign of Grant Delaney. With her imagination running wild as to where he might be, Regan was slipping into a strange, agitated mood.
Loaded down with provisions and trudging back to their campfire, Cyrus gave an imperceptible nod of his head in response to @berengar 's question. "Freshly graduated," He voiced, dividing his focus between his new companion and the roots that seemed to be trying to trip him up. "This will be my firstofficialyear in His Majesty's service.My father would've preferred I attended court with him, but," and at this, his face was pulled into a slight grimace, "I have no talent for the cloak and dagger ways that some of the nobility seem to adore." Becoming absorbed in his thoughts, Cyrus hummed lightly. It's true his father had hoped and groomed Cyrus for a life of intrigue, or at the very least, yucking it up with the other nobles, but he knew there was more than one way to skin a cat - he could please his father and fulfill his personal ambitions at once - and it would be more honorable besides.
Suddenly pulling himself out from his thoughts, Cyrus glanced over at Stormcrest. Not much further, he posed his own question in turn. "And you? You looked awfully smug when Othello was ribbing me for my 'baby face'," He said with an amused grin, "you can't possibly be that much older than I am." Turning his full attention on the young man beside him, Cyrus examined his face for a moment before focusing his eyes forward again, and clearing his throat. "Although, you don't exactly look like a green recruit either."
Finally arriving back at the campfire, Cyrus gave a small smile to the assembled group before taking it upon himself to begin distributing the (admittedly lackluster) fare. "I'm afraid we'll have to skip the gourmet meal this time around." He said with a chuckle, "Unless you'd like some warmed-over jerky." Moving back and forth among the soldiers with purpose, he handed each their portion, giving a small nod, before he found his hands empty. Striding back to where Stormcrest was standing, he took the rest (aside from what Stormcrest himself would need, of course), and finished the job. Finally, he plopped himself down on the ground near the campfire and gave a mighty stretch. The warmth of the fire was pleasant, chasing away the chill that had settled into his uniform. Looking over at @elletta and Stormcrest, he lifted his bread up with a smile. "Cheers!"
He tried not to eye her, instead continuing to scan the groups of soldiers before them. "It's would be normal to feel apprehensive in your situation," he watched as she offered him the flask, and reached out to take it. He lifted it close to his nose and inhaled, then returned it to her without drinking from it. "You've been working with him for a while and he seems to be in his element. This is all routine work."
Warren didn't know Othello, so he couldn't outright assure Regan Lassiter that everything would be fine. But he was confident the trip would go fairly smoothly, if nothing else. "I have more of that, if you run out. One of the kids slipped it into my pack."
For now, Warren would remain at the fire and keep his eyes on the soldiers from there. He wouldn't interrupt Regan if she zoned out again or stop her if she left. Instead, he'd keep an eye on Othello as well. If he couldn't encourage her verbally, he could at least aid her in her work. As for the other soldiers, he'd speak with them if they came over, or leave to aid them if they needed it. If anyone came to speak with Regan specifically, he'd also take his leave and return to making rounds of the campsite.
Last Edit: Jan 17, 2023 16:24:54 GMT -5 by Deleted
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jan 18, 2023 18:53:57 GMT -5
Regan nodded slowly, eyes still tracking Othello as he helped Zarha. Yes. It struck her then that there was something else happening. Othello had been like a new puppy, a feral one, unsafe for others to touch. It had been only her he’d looked to for guidance, direction, and discipline. But now…he didn’t need her anymore. Now he was safe to join the rest of the pack. Regan supposed that was a victory—rather the point of the whole exercise. But her lips pursed at the realization anyway.
“I think we might need it,” Regan responded with a dark chuckle, taking the flask back and downing a hearty swig. By the time she surfaced again, Regan dragged her eyes from Othello and focused them on Warren. “So someone thought you needed a drink, eh?” She pushed the flask back toward Warren.
Parric, it turned out, was exactly as new as he looked. As they walked back to the fire with their provisions in hand, Ber glanced over at him and wondered if he had ever been as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as the new kid seemed. Perhaps when he had been younger, though he was fairly certain it had thoroughly vanished by the time he enlisted. Then again, Parric was, by his own admission as well as everything else about him, clearly a noble, and they spent their childhoods insulated from the harsh realities of life in a way that commoners could only dream of. “Politics are a waste of time anyway,” He commented, perhaps a little darkly.
When they had been on a stakeout for Whitby, Woodwick had mentioned both the necessity and ubiquity of diplomacy, but all Ber could think of was how they had forced Zevran to wait for confirmation of aid as if his people weren’t starving to death every day. Nearly a whole season had passed since the Dresmondi’s arrival. Who knew how many people had died in that time?
Parric’s voice from beside him had Ber glancing over again, and the observation and inquiry had him shoving aside any lingering frustration in favor of a shrug. “Been here almost two years,” He said after a moment, deciding that the other soldier could decide for himself how new that made Ber. As far as Ber was concerned, he considered himself on the newer side, certainly, but now exactly new - especially not with the influx of recruits. Compared to them, his nearly two years of experience practically made him a senior soldier.
They arrived back at the campfire, and both soldiers began distributing the rations amongst the group, though the younger of them did so with far more enthusiasm. Without comment, Ber obligingly handed Parric the remainder when the other man approached him before settling down on the ground by the fire. As Ber ripped off a piece of bread and popped it in his mouth, the new guy sat down beside him, stretched, and looked over at him before raising his own bread as if it was a flask in a tavern. Still chewing, Ber returned the toast with a half-hearted one of his own in the name of camaraderie and shook his head slightly as he looked toward the fire. He was only roughly two years the younger man’s senior, but something about Parric’s upbeat friendliness made him feel old.
After swallowing his bite, Ber looked back at @cyrus . “You were just in training,” He said, before glancing around at the rest of the group as he counted off on his fingers. “I know Zarha Sliva and Othello Allemeade .” He turned to @elletta , who was clearly not a fresh recruit and older than him besides. “What about you? Where’d you get called back from?”
The primary application of his Gift, which is Metalkinesis, is the mental control over magnetism and the manipulation of both ferrous and nonferrous metal.
Level 10; Arynnite ship with the ability to both fly and submerge fully under water. THE DROWNED CANARY.*Temporarily deactivated*
Post by Othello Allemeade on Jan 18, 2023 21:15:09 GMT -5
Othello didn't talk much as he helped Zarha put up her tent, he just listened and thought until he couldn't thunk anymore. When she asked him about Cyrus's challenge quickly replying, "it's all I've thought about, I am competitive by nature," finishing the tent he would wave Zarha to follow him as he walked over to the assortment of children gathered in their gaggle, blue eyes were locked on Cyrus, "Cyrus was it? I have given your challenge a fair bit of thought, so, nightfall is in a few hours aye? Well in teams we go opposite ways into the forest, first team to kill 20 pheasants or the biggest game and makes it back to camp before nightfall...doesn't cook tonight and the losing squad carries the winners gear back home..."
While the guys had gone to get provisions for the meal, Elletta kept an eye on the fire while she double checked their tents because like hells was starting the fire going to be her only contribution. Which, given that they seemed a little more city folk than she was, was probably a good thing cause boy oh boy. Berengar's friend looked like he was struggling but with two sets of hands, it was wrangled and pitched. Bells and hells above.
Not gonna lie in her own head, she'd half expected some kind of comment about her doing something cooking wise when the boys got back but pleasantly, that was not the case and she grinned. Grabbing her own piece of bread she raised it right back at @cyrus. "Cheers to ya too!"
She'd shoved a couple bites down her gullet when @berengar asked bout her time and she swallowed it back. Definitely not the most ladylike. "Coheed for the last 4 years, give or take some months. Fresh outta trainin' and they sent me off."
Post by Zarha Sliva on Jan 19, 2023 12:59:45 GMT -5
Zarha laughed and crossed her arms. "Well competition is what I live for to." She smiled as she follows Othello to where he was going. Intrigued about what was going to happen. twenty or the biggest game that seems like a fair competition. She looked at @cyrus and @berengar and smiled. "It sounds fun and fair. Are you on? or are you scared to lose?" Of course it was just friendly banter to get into competitive spirit
He'd managed to clear out a good site for his tent and get it established without too much of a problem. But one of the things he was good at, was using his strength for the sake of others.
Torsten gathered a few large armfulls of branches and good sized kindling to get the camp fires ready. He figured since he had set up his own easily, he would stack the wood nearby for anyone else that needed it. He paused for a long moment, feeling the eyes of the Lieutenant passing and pausing over his area. The tall young man looked for what could have been faulted. His dark eyes scrutinized the tent, ties and brush near it, but found nothing lacking in their execution. Then his gaze went to the wood for the campfire and realized that he hadn't stacked it properly for longer lasting usage.
He knelt by it and quickly dismantled the whole set up. A cone fire stacking was a bad idea if it was expected to endure through out the entire night. With large, sure hands, he placed the widest two logs parallel on the bottom to start. Next, he laid down two more on top of those, this time perpendicular and built upwards until he'd stacked it properly to four logs tall, laying the thinnest final two on top. Torsten leaned back to survey his work and was glad that Woodwick was the kind of commander that checked over things without feeling the need to lecture. If you were under his eye, you'd best give it your all and pay full attention.
Now the biggest worry for him to face was the idea of cooking. The soldier could manage the tent and fire with competence, and gathered more than enough wood to share, but he could burn water. Everyone seemed to be helping out each other pretty well and he wasn't the type to just insert himself randomly into established conversation. Instead, Torsten decided to carefully observe those that were starting cooking for themselves, and try watching how they did it. His stomach growled with embarrassing loudness. Time for rations.
Last Edit: Jan 20, 2023 10:51:05 GMT -5 by Deleted
Just as Cyrus and the others begin to dig into their meal, Othello Allemeade and Zarha Sliva approach with a challenging glint in their eyes, and an amused half smile pulls up the corners of his mouth as he listens to the wager Othello gives them, and Zarha's subsequent teasing. Looking over to @berengar and @elletta , Cyrus raised his brows as if in question. It was definitely an interesting proposal, though he wasn't sure if Lieutenant Woodwick would even allow the soldiers to take on someone else's burden. He looked at the fire and rolled his lips together in thought, before glancing back at Othello with a sly smile. "You look like you've got a few decades on the rest of us, you could be an expert hunter for all I know. Why don't we even the odds a bit? You and Zarha," He said, nodding his head towards the woman, "versus myself, Stormcrest, and Haider."
Cyrus turned his eyes to his two new friends for confirmation. "What do you think?" He said, taking a quick bite of his jerky, "We've already eaten of course, but that pheasant could make an excellent breakfast." A pause, "Plus, it's not every day we get people offering to carry our heavy packs for us." He added in a lowered voice, rubbing his shoulder where the straps had been digging in over their long march that day. Best not to attract too much attention from the Lieutenant just yet, lest he decide to step in before the hunt had even begun; though Othello's boisterous personality might've done that already. Gesturing towards the ground beside him in invitation, Cyrus smiled at Othello and Zarha. "Please, make yourselves comfortable, or else maybe grab yourselves some rations. We've got a few minutes to kill, then perhaps we can begin?" He said, his voice tapering off in question.
“Coheed, huh?” Ber echoed, raising his eyebrows at @elletta . “Must’ve been interesting there. That’s how you know Othello, then - he said he came from Coheed.”
As if on cue, the man in question appeared with Sliva in his wake, blue eyes focused on @cyrus as he responded to the challenge that the new soldier had issued. Ber had never hunted pheasant in his life, but as he sized up Othello Allemeade and Zarha Sliva , he found his own sense of competition rising just enough to eclipse common sense that told him that this was more effort than it was worth. “It would be nice for them to carry our packs for us,” He agreed, as if his mind wasn’t already made up. “And pheasant for breakfast does sound nice.”
A pause, then: “He hangs out with the Huntsman.” Ber nodded his head toward Regan, who had apparently been joined by Woodwick since he’d glanced over earlier. “He’s probably picked up some tricks from her.” And even if he hadn’t, well, Ber wasn’t above stacking the odds in his favor. “I think it should be the two of them against you, me, Haider, and…” Dark eyes landed on @torsten . Raising a hand, he pointed at the other soldier, whom he knew was a few years older than him and competent enough. “Him.” Ber waved Mosse over. “We’ll take him on our side, too.” If the other soldier joined him, he would explain the challenge and the stakes, inviting him to join - as long as he was on Ber’s side, of course.
"How else would've I met this guy? He ain't a Skia Special or anythin'." Elletta laughed, no bite to her words, just a good ribbing in Othello Allemeade's general direction.
A grin lit across her face at the prospect of a challenge, hunting challenge at that. She stoked the fire as her eyes flickered from the each of the four of them: Berengar, @zahra, @cyrus, Othello. Three on five for a hunting challenge weren't bad odds.
"I like the sound of this." Then @berengar grabbed a fourth guy @tortsen for them. Which, you know what? Fair. Against Othello's skill. "Sounds like fun to me and plenty o' food for later."