Lagoon |
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The BossGarmr |
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The MarauderPeyote |
The GeneralMarko |
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The Companions |
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| None | Druna | None |
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The ThievesJormungandrKhyber Kristjan Síhtríc Tribulation |
The AssociatesAziziAtticus Leukos Lucifer Salinger Thranduil |
The SoldiersKheldarVaingard Rosto |
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The TrinketsNone |
Boss's Decree"For every brother you bring to ourmidst, 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 OffspringNone |
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. |
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Posted on December 22, 2015 at 05:40:23 PM by PSYCHEDELIC
He’d lost. For a little while, Psychedelic avoided returning to his brothers in the Lagoon. He was already limping, his pride hurt, and rather miffed. He loathed being uncomfortable, which was often why winter was filled with his complaints, and when in an already sour mood it wouldn’t be hard to push him over the edge. Loss was a bitter, acidic taste on his tongue. His only reprieve was that he’d managed to harm his opponent, which was better than nothing. He may not have pulled in a victory for the Lagoon, but he’d been a nuisance and he’d injured the herd stallion. That was something, wasn’t it? He lingered throughout the more common greeting areas of Crossing Isle, and mostly on the opposite end of the Lagoon which he called home. It was peaceful and he was able to recover as new pangs of pain set in, though from experience he knew it’d get a bit worse before it got better. He took a few nibbles of grass, a few drinks from a cool stream, and forgot the horror that he’d discovered was called Salem. An awful place, really. As hours trickled by and the sun pushed further toward the horizon, he knew he had to get back at some point. What if he never did? Would they come looking for him? Would they give a shit if he wound up dead, somehow? Rotting away beneath Salem’s sun until his bones were bleached white? Likely not. “Thanks for that, sunshine.” He grunted, flicking his tail as he turned and began to limp toward the Lagoon, favoring his back left and slightly favoring his front right. Shit. That guy’s huge. Psychedelic stopped abruptly, lurking paces behind a creamy colored stallion far taller than he’d ever seen. He didn’t recognize the guy as one of his brothers and therefore assumed he was new, lured by the thick masculine cologne that permeated the Lagoon and interested in joining up with the gang (those who weren’t often avoided it). He toyed with the thought to call up and signal the guy to slow down or to hang back, let him meet his brothers, allow them to be distracted by the new presence and earn himself a little bit more time to sulk. Still, he had sort of become a staple at greeting the new Lagoon faces, hadn’t he? He was like… a mascot or something. Or a doorman. He snorted, ears flicking back. “I am worth so much more than a doorman.” He retorted grumpily. Deciding he’d had enough of the voice in his head, he whinnied to grab the tall guy’s attention, not bothering to pick up his pace and aggravate his sore injuries any further. He’d get to him when he got to him, he supposed. “Hey,” he said in greeting once he was close enough, stopping and stretching his neck to draw a scent before tucking back, grimacing as he shifted his weight to try and get a bit more comfortable. “I’m Psychedelic; most around here call me Psych. What brings you by one of the islands top vacation spots?” WE'RE THE VOICE, WE'RE THE VOICE, WE'RE THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD |
Replies:
- and I can’t resist - By kendry January 8, 2016 at 04:51:58 PM
- we're the trash in your bed - By PSYCHEDELiC January 21, 2016 at 07:57:09 PM
- and I can’t resist - By kendry January 23, 2016 at 02:21:11 AM
- we're the trash in your bed - By PSYCHEDELiC February 5, 2016 at 06:02:19 PM
- and I can’t resist - By kendry February 17, 2016 at 09:27:09 PM
- we're the trash in your bed - By PSYCHEDELiC February 5, 2016 at 06:02:19 PM
- and I can’t resist - By kendry January 23, 2016 at 02:21:11 AM
- we're the trash in your bed - By PSYCHEDELiC January 21, 2016 at 07:57:09 PM
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