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 early morning and Warren had spent another night in his office. With the trip to Cambria looming, he was beginning to get anxious. It wasn't the assignment he was worried about, but the idea of leaving his soldiers behind. Only a few would be going with him, and he'd have to trust that Aldrich Abbott and Katerina Winters could keep the rest in line. That trust was not coming along as easily as he'd hoped, despite his fairly positive conversation with Abbott about it. Sometimes it was just frustratingly difficult to give up control.
The knots in his chest had woken him up early, and he found himself in the training yard at the crack of dawn, doing his usual exercises - laps, sit ups, push ups, lunges, squats, and whatever else focused his mind enough on the sole activity rather than his other thoughts. When the exercises were done, the place was still mostly quiet save for the changing of shifts and the occasional soldier headed to the mess hall for breakfast. He was beating up one of the training dummies when his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure, and he realized he hadn't spoken to her since the party at Othello's.
"Ms. Haider," Warren said in greeting, wiping the sweat from his head with the bottom of his tunic. "You're out here early. Are you scheduled for training?"
Elletta wasn't scheduled for training but the last several days since the party had certainly been nothing short of chaotic. Both in action, between the party and then everything after that, and in the emotional aspect as well. Highs and lows worse than the mountain range that ran across the Nevermere border. It was frustrating and was causing her to be losing sleep.
So no, she wasn't scheduled for training or anything but she was making her way to the training grounds anyway with a twist of her lips and her bow. If she was going to be awake, she might as well be productive about it, possibly work out some of these frustrations, and maybe she'd tire herself out if she was lucky. She wasn't even on duty today. But here she was.
And apparently not alone, which had her biting back a frustrated huff because it wasn't the captain's fault that her feelings were a mess of knotted threads that she had been actively avoiding until she couldn't avoid them anymore.
"Morning, sir. And no, sir." The bow shifted on her back when she rolled her shoulders. "Kind of needed to get out of my head this morning and figured trainin' would do the trick."
He glanced down at Elletta, reading her face as much as he could. He didn't recognize the specific kind of frustration displayed on her face, though maybe he should have. Maybe it should have been all too obvious, given his own situation. But he did notice she was frustrated, if her tone and her words hadn't given it away already. "You're not alone. I'm out here for the same reason."
He gestured to her bow with a nod of his head. "You're already rather proficient in that, aren't you? If I remember correctly, you're the main reason that your team won that impromptu hunting contest when we were doing survival training. Weapon proficiency allows one to use their weapon without thinking, by reflex. Something more physical might work better. If you'd like, we could spar. Swords, hand to hand, you could use incantations if you prefer." He looked back at the dummy he'd been punching on, and noted that it too challenged him so little that his own thoughts had easily taken back over. "If not, however, I'm happy to leave you to it and return to my dummy."