The Lost Islands
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Your King
Asmodeus
Your Queen
Nyimara
The Second
None
The Herd
Name, Name, Name
The Sub-Herd
Name, Name, Name
Allies
Name (Land)
Enemies
Solomon (Cove)
The Rules
  • There will be no fraternizing with enemies. If you put yourself knowingly in danger, don't expect a rescue.
  • We are only as strong as our weakest link. See to it that you are getting stronger in some skill that is useful, whether it is battling, recruiting, charming, etc.
  • The King and Queen have final say in all matters.
.inglorious.






THE SUN KING
.stallion. .8 years. .red dun. . warmblood mutt. .16.1h. .vagrant.



Many a time it seemed to be that way, when a simple movement was considered inherently flashy, when in truth, he had only been dislodging the flies that settled upon the opposite side of his crest. It was as it was however, and there was no more to be said. Those who gazed solely upon the surface and did not bother to peer into the further depths were as they were; there was nothing to be altered about it. A single corner of his fleshy equine lips upturned in a lazy, tomcat grin, his eyes shadowed by the forelock that bristled downward from his poll and between his ears. With a hind toe still docked into the hardened ground and his body relaxed, he continued to bask in the solar king above, enjoying the new heat that arrived with the change of season.

A quiet came about them and though he considered it, Mellow did not a thing to shatter the silence. In a manner, he felt as if the mare was continuously judging him, spying things for what they were not. He remained respectful however, and as cordial as he would usually be when associating with trusted companions. As the minutes ticked by, he flicked his tail back and forth, throwing the wiry hairs over his flanks, a fanning movement that used little energy. A single ear remained upon her the whole of the time, the remainder of his senses drifting, rising over the flatness of the acres, perhaps high enough to reach the underbelly of the very heavens. It was then that she spoke, the sound of her syllables diving down into his sensors, netted by his mind. He angled his expressive profile in her direction, breathing softly in rises and falls of his barrel.

“A pleasure,” he returned, his tone never changing, solid and pitched deeply. “I am Mellow.”


OOC: Sorry for taking so long to reply.

M E L L O W


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