Force-claiming is allowed here once a week per character, as is blocking force-claims by the Peak/Lagoon (as a whole) once a week. Rollover is on Sundays.
Yet seeing Marceline return with potential recruits reminds her of the duties she had pushed to the back burner. So, with careful instructions for Ashteroth to keep an eye on the newest lagoon beast she had drudged up from the swamp, the rose-hued mare set off for the commons in hopes that a few new faces and friendly conversation would be just what she needed to begin to loosen the chill of uncertainty. The journey from the highest reaches of the ice-covered peaks to the lower meadows and fields of the common lands is overall uneventful. The scenery has not changed much from the peaks but it is enough that she feels reminded of just how blessed their mountain home was. Yes, winter could be tough in that they were forced to dig deeper in the snows that came earlier in the fall months and that good grazing was generally only available in the clearing closer to the base of the mountaintops but overall, the Peak had a way of protecting its inhabitants from the worse of the windchill and most intruders did not dare attempt to cross their borders in the thickest of winter.
The satisfying crush of dull leaves beneath her hooves has the rugged little mare in high spirits as she emerges from the thick cover of woodlands and into the open field of mingling horses. A smile, albeit a small one, is on her ash-dusted labrums as pale silver-blue eyes cast a curious and hopeful gaze over the serene landscape. This was exactly what she needed to feel useful.
The peace is quickly shattered however as the sound of raised voices and the muffled stomp of hooves draws her attention. Sharp eyes find the pair easily enough, the ruby red mare stood out against the dull grays and whites of the snowy field around her. Anger radiates from the tension in her body and given the smug expression on the dark stallion dancing around her heels, Khar can only guess why.
’I won't just stand by. Never again.’ It was the promise she had made to herself and the poor mare killed in the fight for her life against the black beast. It is his golden eyes that she sees in the chuckling stallion.
Raven-tipped ears disappear beneath the snow-damp ends of her obsidian mane as Khar’pern adjusts her direction. Muscles tense beneath the shagginess of her winter coat as the moon-dappled woman arches her neck, her brows narrowed in hatred. Paper-thin nostrils flare, exhaling puffs of vapor like smoke from a dragon’s nostrils. Teeth clack together in warning as her sights focused on the seal bay stallion. She had seen him before. They had met on the high meadows of the Peaks the day he came striding confidently into her home in hopes of stealing Ashteroth away as some prized mantlepiece. Even without hearing his name, Khar recognizes the foul odor of the Lagoon radiating from his flesh. ”Take the hint boy…” the mare growls as she comes to a halt near the crimson mare. ”Run back to the Lagoon with your tail between your legs, little fox.” she snarls, stomping her own cracked obsidian hoof. A smug grin ghosts across her charcoal features as she tilts her chin forward slightly enough. ”You’re good at doing that.” Confidence lingers in her tone as she squares her shoulders. Never again. If putting herself in the way of danger meant another mare could live and make her own choices then it was what Khar’pern would continue to do. It was what the sisterhood of the Peak was built upon. Comradery. Safety. Protection in numbers. Right now, their numbers outweighed that of the Lagoon stallion.