The Lost Islands
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Lagoon

The Boss

Garmr

The Marauder

Peyote

The General

Marko

The Companions

None Druna None

The Thieves

Jormungandr
Khyber
Kristjan
Síhtríc
Tribulation

The Associates

Azizi
Atticus
Leukos
Lucifer
Salinger
Thranduil

The Soldiers

Kheldar
Vaingard
Rosto

The Trinkets

None

Boss's Decree

"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.

Nobody's star.

His eyes are cold. He doesn't know what to think of the bizarre mongrel that stands before him, palomino and gross-- what was that, rot? It hung to his shoulders and left Milo rolling his eyes. There's something distasteful about the creature, especially as he cuts away the words from his mouth. If the young man could have growled, he would have. One hear half pins to his head, but he doesn't have the energy. Best to ignore him and move the hell on. It was fine. Fine. His posture caught and released, trying to fight back the indignance that came from being cut off. Kendry. Right. He'd remember that-- not likely. Not likely at all, but he didn't particularly care.

"It's my home... always has been. No one much remembers we're here except to occasionally poke at our morals." The young man tosses his head, mane falling into place before his eyes. He likes that, the way they do that-- vanity. He's always been vanity's child. That's what happens when perfection sleeps with the uncouth, you wind up with a pup like this little dappled creature... one that knows just how his own body should work, one that keeps himself ticking like a clock. That's what he's here for, ticking away.

"I'm Milo." Two words, easy falling. There's still a drawl that hangs in the air around his head, a sort of easiness that comes from what he's always had. Charm. He tries so damn hard for that charm... and he doesn't really need to. It comes easily most days. The young leading the younger, he could manage that. It was about time that he start getting to his feet and making his way around this little corner of the universe. He'd build them back up with his own two (metaphorical) hands. That was all it would take.


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