"I can't belong in the dirt." />
The Lost Islands
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Peak

The Prime Minister

Khar'pern

The Codebreaker

Ashteroth

The General

Marceline

The Companions
None None None

The Thinkers

Naydra
Titan

The Politicians

Ararat
Axelle
Hollis
Mae
Nashira
Serenity

The Warriors

Clarity
Kaeja
Lysimache
Starling

The Trinkets

Beloved
Cato
Cullen
Gόneşlenmek
Isengrim
Jigsaw
Kazimir
Octavius
Starscream
Yıldırım

PRIME MINISTER'S DECREE

"None." - Leader

The Offspring

Diccon (Cicada x Khar'pern)

Rules

• The Vulcan Peak is where homeless mares come to live as a sisterhood. Stallions may not live here except as captives or companions for the Leaders.

• Warriors keep mainly to fighting, Thinkers keep mainly to raiding, and Politicians may do both, neither, or act as diplomats. Members may issue their own battles and raids, but should generally consult the General, Codebreaker or Prime Minister for permission.

• All major decisions are determined by vote, but the Prime Minister maintains order within the Peak 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 Peak works on the Rules page.
"I can't belong in the dirt."
Posted on February 14, 2013 at 10:19:34 PM by arris

Arris
"-and in the dirt she lay, her dress torn asunder,
her face a mask of courage and strength."

They had only rested for the night, curled up under the protective shelter of the great tree that the mottled mare had found. They had been safe from the rain and the soft wind, but come morning they were ready to move along. Arris was standing before Iolar had awoke, looking out across the great field they had found themselves in and watching carefully. As certain as the bruise that had blossomed across her shoulder and as her neck ached from the pinch of teeth and scrape of hooves, she was sure that she would see the golden brute charging across the field, come to take the grullo soon to be mother away from the painted mare so he could have possession of his child.

The stallion did not appear, but instead the silvery mare rose and without a word, they continued on through the trees towards the great mountain. Their walk was relaxing, giving Arris some time to reflect on the decisions that had brought her here. She had thought that she would find relaxation and safety in the savanna, but instead she had been lucky to escape with but a few bumps and scrapes. Glancing behind her, she does a quick assessment of her travelling companion, and is glad to find that aside from looking as though she was ready to burst from the seams, Iolar was in much better shape than herself.

Eventually, they found the foot of the great mountain. Gazing up, the blue eyed mare stares at the brutal slope with some apprehension. She fears that the silvery mare will not be able to take the climb and that they would need to pause occasionally in order for the pregnant woman to rest. As Arris turns back to speak to her friend, she sees that the mare has disappeared and feels a moment of panic. It takes a few moments before she imagines that the mare must be giving birth and had discreetly sought out privacy- and so here the mare would wait until her friend had finished her business. Something in her was giddy and nervous, and she paced much like a father awaiting the arrival of his child in the waiting room of the hospital. Nervously kicking rocks and listening to them clatter down the hill as they rolled, there was little more for the mare to do but wait.

In the not-so-far distance, she hears the sounds of birthing that she had experienced more than once him her birth home. She had a family that was constantly growing, and it was not uncommon to accidentally stumble across a woman that was noisily bringing her child into the world.

Finally, the sounds relent, and Arris stands to attention. Blue ears pushing forwards and her pale eyes staring off in the direction that the noises had previously come from, the new silence seems to run on forever. Eventually, there are hushed words that can only belong to the silvery mother, and the blue and white girl steps forwards once before tentatively calling out into the underbrush. “Iolar?” Her voice is wary, hoping that her companion was safe and sound.
html & character by Russell


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