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.
barely breathing
Posted on December 13, 2014 at 01:52:11 AM by sandman


the fire in my heart
will burn me to the ground



He had only been very young when the Lagoon had claimed him for its own. He had been nothing more than a slip of a boy, neglected by his father, and led astray by the ones who stepped in to take his place. His remembers little of that time; their faces were lost to him, and all he had left were names. But he couldn't be sure they were true to him. There were many who had lingered in the shadows here, and the silver black, some days he couldn't even remember his own name. It didn't really matter in the end, did it? Who it was that had brought him here. He knew where the blame lay, and this was what he held on to. He drank it in, the bitterness, and breathed in the hatred. He had nothing else - the halfling had seen to that. He had been drawn into the shadows years ago, and he had never quite left them. It had been so long, since he'd been back, but here he was, stepping over the border. There was no question as to why. True, he had nowhere else to go, but that wasn't why he was back.

This place had taken hold of a sad and wayward waif, and it had never let him go.

Nor would it, he mused, as he slowly picked his way deeper into the overgrown territory. And maybe that pleased him. It was a comforting thought, that despite the fact that there was no-one who mattered, no-one he mattered to, there would always be the Lagoon, and here, he would always belong. Sandman stopped a few times along the way, just to take in the place. There were no scents he recognised, but that was hardly surprising. And there were no familiar sights either, but he shrugged, and continued on his way. It was his belief that the Lagoon was untamed and forever changing, that he could come back to this place, or to that, and in a week it would be different. This, too, in its own way, comforted him. There was a distinct lack of permanence in his life, you see, and he had grown used to it.

After some time, he stopped, content to wait for company. There was no trepidation in him - he did not fear pressing onwards into the heart of the Lagoon. Sandman feared little, because he had nothing to fear for, except his life, and in his darker days, he didn't care much about preserving even that. Today, however, he was overcast, tired and yet wanting. He stood, alert but at ease, turning his head every now and again to investigate a sound, or catch a faint trace of a stranger on the cool air. It seemed to him that there were fewer here, then there had been before, but again, Sandman couldn't be certain. Nothing was certain, and nothing was permanent. "Nothing but this," he rumbled gruffly to himself. A sorrow stole over him, casting shadows that were deep. He tried to rid himself of it, because all his life he'd told himself that sorrow was a weakness. But he couldn't break free, not this time. The silver black stallion didn't understand. He had come back to the place where he belonged. He had obeyed the pull of the master who wouldn't let him go. He was here, and he would stay.

How could it be, that here of all places, he felt more lost than ever?



sandman
html by shiva for public use 2014



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