<font style="font: 'Times New Roman';font-variant: small-caps;color: #924f28">Silence is the Sharper Sword</font>

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 G�neşlenmek 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.

Silence is the Sharper Sword
Posted on January 26, 2016 at 07:36:19 AM by katana


RAIN FELL DOWN TO EARTH, soaking its residents with a fierce, icy chill; the forest seemed so full of wildlife this evening before the storm, though now all was deadly quiet. All accept the thundering rain. (It's a miracle that it isn't snowing right now. It's so COLD!) The golden and white mare glowered, standing uncomfortably in a cluster of pine trees as wind and rain lashed at the branches, sending the needle coated sticks slapping furiously at her sides like frigid whips pressing her onward, deeper into the grove. The forest floor sucked at her hooves like quicksand. She was soaked to the bone with her head hanging low and her milky white mane and tail sticking to her solemn, shivering form. (What more could a mare want?) Sarcasm, with this mare, was rarely suppressed. Even in some of the most disheartening and disappointing of situations (like this one). She stood still and lonely amidst the hiemal weather (although, I must say it feels more like a hellish spring than winter out here), sheltering from the storm in a cluster of evergreens along the border of the Peak. (I guess I've technically made it to the Peak, though it really doesn't feel that welcoming here.) The world was sickeningly silent, aside from the sound of pounding rain. The lonely mare had thought to herself that it had been a long time since she had felt this forlorn and detached from society, though it wasn't long before her feelings of seclusion dwindled into nonexistence, and her eyes began to droop. Despite the relentless storm, she had pressed her shoulder against the asperous pine bark and began to rest amid the howling tempest. IT HAD BEEN A FEW DAYS since the storm along the border of the peak. The palomino overo had taken the day after the great rain to wander along the border in search of a friendly face to welcome her, though she had found none. (It seemed pretty bleak and barren, to tell the truth.) By day two of being in the Peak, she had began to explore more inland, and to her disappointment, all she saw were tracks and trails of what used to be. (This isn't at all what I had expected...) Unease crept and crawled under her fur, and defeat dug and tore at her skin like savage fleas. Though a voice in her head instilled quiet confidence and a great deal of motivation, diluting the waters of negativity that constantly filled her head with discouragement. (I need to quit my whining and keep on climbing.) After a long day, there was still no sign of a friend (or a foe for that matter). She had sheltered in another grove of trees that night, for the air was cold and snow had begun to fall. The wind rushing down the mountainsides had made visibility nearly zero, so she had concluded her day of travel with a sprint to the nearest strip of trees before the storm became even more nippy and blinding. The mare had clumsily tripped over a few patches of rocks on the way, though in her defense, they were dusted in snow and visible only to those looking out for them. (I need to get better acclimated to this environment.) With that being said, her second day came and went, leaving her cold and huddled up in another forest after another displeasing day. IN A WORLD OF WHITE, the maiden danced and frolicked, kicking up snow and being her silly, playful self. The sun had begun to rise in the east, painting the sky with wan shades of pink-orange, lavender, and sky blue. Her entire muzzle was dusted in white powder after a few minutes of fun, and the filly's nostrils flared, puffing out clouds of warm breath in the crisp morning air. (I love snow!) It wasn't long before she became hungry, pawing at the earth to reveal winter's delicacy: brown, brittle, dormant grass. (Where can I actually get some decent grazing around here?) She moved on, ignoring the crunching grass and snow beneath her hooves. (I'll find something, someone, eventually.) SHE HAD BEEN WALKING for nearly an hour to the east, following the sun around the mountain. The filly had been warming herself up (you know, walking, trotting, cantering here and there), because the morning air was frosty and thin; it bit at her thin, delicate skin like sharp fangs. She was breathing loudly and realized that the higher she climbed, the less energy it took to exert herself. (I need to exercise a bit more and eat a bit less...) Following that thought, her stomach gurgled hungrily. (You know, why don't I start that diet tomorrow.) She had discovered there to be massive crags on the eastern side of this mountain range, and as she climbed up on the higher end of the rocky slope, the mare looked down along the cliff face. Her heart leaped. A dark horse was grazing along the flatter grade below the stones she was standing on. SHE ALMOST LET OUT a raucous neigh, though the filly swallowed it and made her way slowly down the mountainside. (I'm trying so hard to control myself!) Her chest thumped rapidly, whether with nervousness or excitement, even she did not know. She half walked half skid down the steep slope, spraying snow here and there. It didn't take long for her to near a large horse, in which she could now tell it was a massive, black mare (with snow on her butt!). The palomino mare nickered a greeting with ears forward and an exuberant spark in her eyes. The ache of hunger died away immediately. She had finally found what she was looking for: not only a home, but a horse to share it with.

RAIN FELL DOWN TO EARTH, soaking its residents with a fierce, icy chill; the forest seemed so full of wildlife this evening before the storm, though now all was deadly quiet. All accept the thundering rain. (It's a miracle that it isn't snowing right now. It's so COLD!) The golden and white mare glowered, standing uncomfortably in a cluster of pine trees as wind and rain lashed at the branches, sending the needle coated sticks slapping furiously at her sides like frigid whips pressing her onward, deeper into the grove. The forest floor sucked at her hooves like quicksand. She was soaked to the bone with her head hanging low and her milky white mane and tail sticking to her solemn, shivering form. (What more could a mare want?) Sarcasm, with this mare, was rarely suppressed. Even in some of the most disheartening and disappointing of situations (like this one). She stood still and lonely amidst the hiemal weather (although, I must say it feels more like a hellish spring than winter out here), sheltering from the storm in a cluster of evergreens along the border of the Peak. (I guess I've technically made it to the Peak, though it really doesn't feel that welcoming here.) The world was sickeningly silent, aside from the sound of pounding rain. The lonely mare had thought to herself that it had been a long time since she had felt this forlorn and detached from society, though it wasn't long before her feelings of seclusion dwindled into nonexistence, and her eyes began to droop. Despite the relentless storm, she had pressed her shoulder against the asperous pine bark and began to rest amid the howling tempest.

IT HAD BEEN A FEW DAYS since the storm along the border of the peak. The palomino overo had taken the day after the great rain to wander along the border in search of a friendly face to welcome her, though she had found none. (It seemed pretty bleak and barren, to tell the truth.) By day two of being in the Peak, she had began to explore more inland, and to her disappointment, all she saw were tracks and trails of what used to be. (This isn't at all what I had expected...) Unease crept and crawled under her fur, and defeat dug and tore at her skin like savage fleas. Though a voice in her head instilled quiet confidence and a great deal of motivation, diluting the waters of negativity that constantly filled her head with discouragement. (I need to quit my whining and keep on climbing.) After a long day, there was still no sign of a friend (or a foe for that matter). She had sheltered in another grove of trees that night, for the air was cold and snow had begun to fall. The wind rushing down the mountainsides had made visibility nearly zero, so she had concluded her day of travel with a sprint to the nearest strip of trees before the storm became even more nippy and blinding. The mare had clumsily tripped over a few patches of rocks on the way, though in her defense, they were dusted in snow and visible only to those looking out for them. (I need to get better acclimated to this environment.) With that being said, her second day came and went, leaving her cold and huddled up in another forest after another displeasing day.

IN A WORLD OF WHITE, the maiden danced and frolicked, kicking up snow and being her silly, playful self. The sun had begun to rise in the east, painting the sky with wan shades of pink-orange, lavender, and sky blue. Her entire muzzle was dusted in white powder after a few minutes of fun, and the filly's nostrils flared, puffing out clouds of warm breath in the crisp morning air. (I love snow!) It wasn't long before she became hungry, pawing at the earth to reveal winter's delicacy: brown, brittle, dormant grass. (Where can I actually get some decent grazing around here?) She moved on, ignoring the crunching grass and snow beneath her hooves. (I'll find something, someone, eventually.)

SHE HAD BEEN WALKING for nearly an hour to the east, following the sun around the mountain. The filly had been warming herself up (you know, walking, trotting, cantering here and there), because the morning air was frosty and thin; it bit at her thin, delicate skin like sharp fangs. She was breathing loudly and realized that the higher she climbed, the less energy it took to exert herself. (I need to exercise a bit more and eat a bit less...) Following that thought, her stomach gurgled hungrily. (You know, why don't I start that diet tomorrow.) She had discovered there to be massive crags on the eastern side of this mountain range, and as she climbed up on the higher end of the rocky slope, the mare looked down along the cliff face. Her heart leaped.
A dark horse was grazing along the flatter grade below the stones she was standing on.

SHE ALMOST LET OUT a raucous neigh, though the filly swallowed it and made her way slowly down the mountainside. (I'm trying so hard to control myself!) Her chest thumped rapidly, whether with nervousness or excitement, even she did not know. She half walked half skid down the steep slope, spraying snow here and there. It didn't take long for her to near a large horse, in which she could now tell it was a massive, black mare (with snow on her butt!). The palomino mare nickered a greeting with ears forward and an exuberant spark in her eyes. The ache of hunger died away immediately. She had finally found what she was looking for: not only a home, but a horse to share it with.

Replies:

YOU LEFT ME IN THE DARK - By impazienza February 3, 2016 at 03:45:36 PM
- [x] - By impazienza March 12, 2016 at 05:09:18 PM

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Peak

The Prime Minister

The Codebreaker

The General

The Companions

The Thinkers

The Politicians

The Warriors

The Trinkets

PRIME MINISTER'S DECREE

The Offspring

Rules