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.

should I cool it, or should I blow? (synder & felony)


__
mason;


Winter in the lagoon was a strange thing. On the one hand it sucked all color out of the place, replacing verdant greens and sparkling blues with brown, grey, and more grey, yet on the other hand it made it somehow more bearable. The mild ocean currents kept the worst of the chill away, preventing any snow that fell from coating the ground, and – even better – the pestilent insects were all dead or otherwise gone. Mason preferred cooler temperatures, for his blood ran hot (too hot sometimes), but he’d trekked inland recently to visit the freezing, snow-laden neutral territories, and had stayed only long enough to decide he preferred it back here in the milder lagoon. It may have been boring, but it was comfortable.

What’s more is somehow he had thus far managed to elude his parents. Felony’s scent was still there, faint on the salty breeze, and once or twice Mason thought he’d spotted his sire in the distance, but so far it seemed he’d managed to blend into the background reasonably well. Either that, or Felony had no overwhelming fatherly desire to acknowledge his son. Which works well enough for me. It was not just his sire he had been avoiding, however. Plenty of other horses shared this little niche of land, and Mason had spent some time watching them, but none of them had seemed particularly interesting to him: certainly not enough to start a conversation.

One horse he was interested in – and looking forward to “talking” to again – was the dark, quiet young mare who seemed so familiar to him. Yet she was proving as elusive as he was for his parents.

But today his mind was on other things. The tide was out, leaving only seaweed, seashells, and little puddles scattered in its wake, and he had just enjoyed a good roll. Clad in a gritty cloak of wet sand, Mason reclined with his back pressed against the cool stone of a rocky ledge and stared out at the horizon, where both ocean and overcast sky were so grey they almost melted into each other. He thought about how he had been back home for nine months now, and had slept and eaten his way through most of it; the only thing he had to show for his time here was a slightly tubby stomach. He did not intend on remaining in the lagoon for the rest of his life, yet he was no closer to knowing what he wanted to do with his life.

He could feel his hot blood cooling, and he was not sure how he felt about it.

3; EE Aa nT; felony x alexandra; mutt; 16’1

pattern from colourlovers; html and character by shiva



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