"For every brother you bring to our
midst, you may keep a trinket all to
yourself. She will not be sullied or traded, unless you deem otherwise. But should you bring a mare here without a new brother first, then I will consider her property of the Lagoon as a whole and do with her as I see fit." - Garmr
The Offspring
None
Rules
• The Lagoon is where homeless stallions come to live as a brotherhood. Mares may not live here except as captives or companions for the Leaders.
• Soldiers keep mainly to fighting, Thieves keep mainly to raiding, and Associates may do both, neither, or act as diplomats. Members may issue their own battles and raids, but should generally consult the General, Marauder or Boss for permission.
• All major decisions are determined by vote, but the Boss maintains order within the Lagoon and has the final say.
• Elections for leadership positions will be held every TLI summer, provided the qualifying criteria are met.
• You can find detailed information about how the Lagoon works on the Rules page.
• Upon election, the Boss can issue a rule for members to follow during their tenure. It is up to leadership to enforce.
rise and rise again Posted on November 1, 2021 at 09:57:55 AM by Rade
rade
Breath slipping past numb lips. Hooves sliding over damp soil. The rise and fall of his chest, a steady rhythm broken by shuddering spasms of pain. And above all, the sensation of his sun setting, sinking below the horizon that marked his life. Of cold and dark and nothingness looming all too close. Throat tightening, Rade lurched forward, leaving both the bracken pool and the painted stallion behind him. It was done. Moving towards the Lagoon’s edge— the tip of his right forehoof dragging numbly beneath him— the old bachelor knew that this battle would be his last. The Huskarl’s final blow had completed the destruction that started with Bozena, and all but severed the last connections that allowed him limited use of his injured leg. He was done. Finished.
A shadow of the formidable and proud creature he’d once been.
Rade didn’t make it far before he had to stop, his white-dusted body sagging against the trunk of an ancient elm. Bracing himself against the rough bark and dragging in deep pulls of the warm, thick air. Reminding himself in the sting of his torn flesh and the ache of his laboring lungs that he was still alive. That there were still tethers that bound him to this world, the greatest of which sprawled silent and dark behind him. The Lagoon. His brothers. He couldn’t leave them; he’d made a promise. To them, to himself, to the Vulcans. He’d made a vow to bring them back into the light, and there was still a long distance to go. Too long. It made him tired to think about the path that lay ahead— to think about the judgments he’d not yet faced, the cycles he’d not yet broken, the conversations he hadn’t yet had. Conversations about the past, the present, and the future.
Conversations about his own mortality. The inevitable goodbye to a girl as inept as he was in the art of letting go. Hell. They’d danced around the subject of his waning strength for seasons, wanting to savor what time they had together without that grim veil. But no length of time could have ever been enough for the scarred palomino to know Jaws. No memories could ever match what it was to be beside the dark mare, basking in the light of her laughter and the warmth of her touch. And no words could ever tell Rade’s daughter what it meant that she had chosen to stay with him, even knowing the heartache that waited for her at the end of that path.
The thought of her grief was unbearable; he didn’t want to consider it. He didn't want to think at all. Golden eyes wandering, searching, Rade glimpsed a flash as pale as bone between the trees. Watched the slender creature pause, as if lost in the midst of her own mind. And— without a conscious decision or intent— the old roan stumbled forward again, covering the distance between them at a shambling lope. Chasing some nameless ghost from his past as a means of escaping the overwhelming burden of the present.
Ghosts, at least, did not love— or grieve.
"You," the stallion rasped as he drew near, strides slowing and then stopping jerkily. Tattered ears sweeping forward, abandoning the tangled skeins of his cream-colored mane. "I— I know you." Rade was certain of that much; certain to his core. Yet it was a long, silent moment before the memory surfaced, coaxed along by the familiar scents of pine and stone-dust. The Peak. Lips peeling back in a snarl, Rade turned to go— and then staggered as his injured leg folded beneath him. Sinking to his knees with a sharp hiss of pain, the Boss lifted his head to glower up at the champagne woman, clutching the last precious tatters of his pride close.
"You sent here by your sisters to babysit me, or just here to gloat?" The accusation was unfair, but he didn't give a shit. Not now, not while he struggled to hold himself together before the very last creature he'd have wanted to witness his weakness. Why couldn't these wretched Vulcans just leave him alone? Struggling to rise again, he flattened his ears at the first note of the woman's voice— imagining that the revulsion and suspicion that Roisin had spoken with was found there, too. "Actually, I don't care. Just— just leave." His voice broke on the intended command, softening it into something more like a plea. And Rade...he hated himself as much for that moment as he did for any of his erstwhile crimes.