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.
New gifted family of Lorendale added to the Families of Importance, the DeCarlos!
Congratulations to our winner of the holiday submission contest, Rigby, who came up with a brilliant holiday idea that incorporates a beautiful tale that flows with the lore and will be celebrated in Lorendale each Hiems from here on out! The Feast of the Twelve Marshals celebrates the return of Lorendale troops from war just in the nick of time to save the people from blood sacrifice and starvation. It is celebrated with secret note exchanges and a feast in which the firstborn of a family gets to dance with whomever they wish! We are looking forward to this new holiday!
Today was not the day for politics, not unless he had to. The cave was what made Dresmond... well... Dresmond. "I'll wait for Adhla. I suppose I should at least make sure everyone is ok when they get here. But if Adhla isn't here in a few hours, I'm backtracking the route. Deal?" Arlo thought that was pretty fair. He also would at least know what direction to go charging off in. That end goal for that was clear. Adhla and the rest of his caravan would be fine right?
He also figured that if someone from Dijila or Rashai decided they'd follow him in that direction, it wouldn't be so bad, or maybe everyone was resting after a few days of hard driving and traveling at the fastest pace possible. Maybe his horse needed a nap, or he could always borrow a fresh horse.
"The vine are kinda comfy though." he admitted. This was the most still he had been in quite a while.
Backtracking to the Cave wasn't charging into Coheed, so Etta could accept that, and she nodded.
She glanced down at the vines--they weren't tight enough to cut off his circulation or anything, and Sage had picked something that wasn't sharp or slimy.
"Well we wouldn't use thorns or anything," she said. "I like you. I was trying to get you to hold still, not punish you."
Three-inch thorns would do very well for the next Coheed warrior that she crossed paths with. Vines around their every limb, their lungs, their hearts--if they had any--and especially, slowly, sinking spines into the softer parts of their eyes and places where men in general very much disliked experiencing even moderate discomfort. Spikes. Several. Straight through.
Granted, if anything had happened to Adhla's group, that would only give Arlo even more reason to go charging into Coheed. There was a fair chance that if all of that went the (expected) wrong way, he'd just turn around and go charging into Coheed straight from there. He thought it was unlikely he'd have to, and he hoped with all of his heart he wouldn't have to. Adhla would be fine, she'd arrive with everyone fine and healthy and a report that the cave was safe.
"I'd say it's an upgrade from the time out stool," Arlo managed to find a joke somewhere there. He was too old and probably too big for the time out stool. He was the big brother after all. "I for one am glad you still like me."
“I can definitely sit you down on my wagon-step if you need it,” said Etta, but she was smiling a little at her brother. It was a tired smile, a worried smile, but still a smile of some sort. She sighed.
“Sometimes I want to bury you up to your neck in manure...” she grumbled, trying to sound threatening. “...but I...I’ll always love you.”
It felt weird, to say it like that, but she had to say it. After today, these things needed to be said, she felt. Arlo needed to know.
Arlo saying "I love you" was not anything unusual. It was arguably oversaid. But when Arlo said "I love you too Ets" it was in a tone that meant something. The thing was, Arlo may say it often, but he meant it every time. Obviously with his sister it was a very different meaning than the usual context. "You could pick something less smelly than manure to bury me in though right?" Things were too serious these days, for good reason but manure jokes were always good.