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.
the drunken gods of the living dead
Posted on November 7, 2022 at 06:52:13 PM by PSYCHEDELiC



we're the voice, we're the voice
we're the voice in your head
we're the trash, we're the trash
we're the trash in your bed

Psychedelic’s surprise at the lack of resistance and growth of support of his cause for Lagoon boss was short-lived. He wasn’t one to marvel much, and the acceptance of his claim brought on a myriad of new challenges. Live was colorful again and worth living. He had assumed he wanted to relax among a place of his own among Atlantis’s soft sand shores, but it had grown boring even quicker than he’d expected. He wasn’t meant to wallow on an island, sticking claim to one of the scattering of territories. His blood was never meant for Tinuvel, Salem, Luthien, or even Atlantis. His blood was meant for the Lagoon. It was the first humid, sea-brine thick air he’d taken into his lungs, and it should be the last, however long that was going to take.

His attempt to pluck Bane away from her Peak had been unsuccessful, but it had at least shown him he was right in assuming that’s where she was holed up. It’d been fun to clash in battle with her, to feel every sting she afflicted him with and the hot rush of battle. It wasn’t much unlike the night that had created their child – the one he’d yet to meet. When they’d come face-to-face to fight one another he could smell the freshness of a babe on her coat, but he hadn’t gotten to see it. That had him irritated, and Psychedelic knew he needed to do something to drag pretty Bane down into his land of derelicts and snatch away the child he hoped was male and he could raise to properly succeed him.

Not that he would raise the child the way he’d raised Talya. As always, when thinking of her, Psychedelic’s heart ached and almost immediately thereafter his ears pinned and a rage flashed white-hot in his yellow eyes, brightening them dangerously. No… there would never be anyone, blood of his or no, that would make him as vulnerable as Talya had made him.

Movement out of his peripherals caused Psychedelic to turn his head just in time to see a beast of a stallion emerge from the shadows. It was the former boss, the one who Psychedelic had slipped in and usurped, quickly and pointedly unraveling all the work that had been inlaid over the past however many years. He was unsurprised to see his face a mask of rage, or the fact that the stallion wasn’t appearing to enter the clearing for a diplomatic conversation.

Psychedelic had lived in this world enough and been in enough fights that he knew how to handle himself against an advancing aggressor. His ears slicked back into his pale hair, and he stumbled, grunting as the bulk weight of the other stallion bullied into his shoulder. His hooves pressed against the ground, firmly looking to plant his weight and keep him from tipping over. It’d surely be the end of him if he went down in the dirt and found those impossibly large hooves banging down atop him. He barely had time to jerk his head away as Tyr’s teeth went for his jugular; the beast instead latched onto a wrinkle of skin between his neck and shoulder, the pain dull but still enough to make Psychedelic squeal indignantly against the attack.

Rather than pull away or try and flee, Psychedelic kept the fight close. He turned his head in and sought to return a bite of his own, though he snapped blindly and was unsure what – if anything – he could grab. Even if he could snatch a lock of the stallion’s hair and rip it, hopefully snatching a few strands free, he’d do it. Whatever he needed to do to show he wasn’t just going to be bullied back down and out, so easy to smash to pieces.

“There’s the fucking life in you I was hoping for,” he managed to snarl as he tried to swing his hips, trying to kick out with a back leg to smack against one of Tyr’s legs. It’d be a fool’s errand to try and smack against all the packed muscle laid so thickly over the large stallion’s body, but Psychedelic would be more than happy to knock out a leg or two. Despite the fact he had been unexpectedly attacked, Psychedelic didn’t seem personally offended. Strangely enough, he seemed… pleased. There was a wild glint in his eyes and a grin curling his lips as adrenaline coursed hot and gleeful, singing through his veins.


PSYCHEDELiC
of the lagoon



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