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 white trash circus
Posted on September 26, 2014 at 06:47:28 PM by PSYCHEDELIC

WE'RE THE DRUNKEN GODS OF THE LIVING DEAD
we're the voice, we're the voice, we're the voice in your head



This is becoming too common of a trend. What the hell are you trying to make yourself out to be, a babysitter?

Psychedelic twitched his ears at the disgruntled voice in his mind but his eyes never wavered from the young colt tucked away on dry ground, hidden in the trees bordering the Lagoon. He didn’t argue back that he liked Léon, the other young colt he’d crossed paths with, but the thought was there. Something deep down disturbed Psychedelic about the way the yearling shivered and how alone he was. Psychedelic may have hardly had a mother and he may have hated his father (and still did) but he’d always had someone.

You need to start hanging out with others your age.

The voice knew his thoughts and it chided him. Psychedelic exhaled a heavy sigh of air through his nostrils, lips pressed together as his eyes swiveled in their sockets, running constantly over the gangly colt in the slight distance. “Why?” He whispered gently back, “why’s it matter? He’s of the Lagoon too, damn his age.” Mind made up, his words growing firmer as he spoke them; Psychedelic gave a determined shake of his head and started forward.

As he wound around trees his hooves tapped the ground and branches reached for his coat, making soft scratching sounds. Those noises intermingled with the soft huffs of his breath would have warned the colt he was coming long before he stopped at the edges of the clearing, the front half of his body out of the tree line. “Hey.” He said, frowning, “you alright kid?”


we're the trash, we're the trash
WE'RE THE TRASH IN YOUR BED


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