Peak |
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The Prime MinisterKhar'pern |
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The CodebreakerAshteroth |
The GeneralMarceline |
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The Companions |
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| None | None | None |
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The ThinkersNaydraTitan |
The PoliticiansAraratAxelle Hollis Mae Nashira Serenity |
The WarriorsClarityKaeja Lysimache Starling |
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The TrinketsBelovedCato Cullen Güneşlenmek Isengrim Jigsaw Kazimir Octavius Starscream Yıldırım |
PRIME MINISTER'S DECREE"None." - Leader |
The OffspringDiccon (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. |
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Posted on August 5, 2016 at 05:55:14 PM by IMPAZIENZA
 The air is thinner at the heights of the mountain and, given her old age, Impa chooses to more or less stand still and doze at apex of her home. Since the conversation with the girl from the storm, her thoughts have slowed and turned to follow new paths, no longer lingering in the dark despair that has haunted her every day since she was a child. She is relaxed now, not quite asleep but not quite awake, and her thoughts swim lazily behind the surface of her closed eyelids. Impa is thinking about the Forest.
Her memories wander pleasantly until a faraway call intrudes: she doesn’t remember this voice from home, doesn’t remember this moment happening in her past. The draft mare frowns but, since she doesn’t hear it again, allows the sound to stop disturbing her nostalgia. After a time she shifts her weight to find a more comfortable position to lean herself at —though at this age, with joints aching no matter the time of day or weather, it seemed a futile process— and hears the stilted breath of another as someone greets her. Impa opens her eyes and turns her head out of habit: she’s been half-blind all her life and now the other side has become just as useless, the world reduced to bleary shadows. “Pilgrim,” she repeats. Impa’s never heard of her and she doesn’t smell familiar, either, though this should have been obvious as the other mare admits to having kept her distance from the Peak for quite awhile. “Welcome,” she says, and then asks, “What made you finally decide to hike all the way up here?” |
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