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.
we're the trash in your bed
Posted on August 4, 2016 at 08:03:25 PM by PSYCHEDELIC


Psychedelic was pleased to be in the Lagoon again. This time compared to the last two felt different. Maybe it was because of the leadership the Lagoon was now under, maybe it was because he had a friend here, or maybe it was because the islands had seemed to wake up at the same time and the world was a vibrant burst of activity. Whatever it was, Psychedelic found himself in a happy mood nearly every day he was awake. Life was what he needed, for Psychedelic’s passion was getting into some form of mischief or another. When the world was dead he was displeased, for how could he make trouble with corpses?

The spotted stallion stood near the piece of the Lagoon which met the ocean and watched the tide roll slowly in and out. The high swells of forested hills on either side of the horseshoe like clearing kept the wind from being too troublesome but the sky was beginning to go gray with a promise of early autumn storms. Psychedelic flicked an ear and glanced upwards. “Wonder if it’ll rain today.” He said to no one in particular before he grunted and dropped his chin down. “I can handle the rain but the snow, yech!”

“Psych?”

His body tensed. It was a woman’s voice, which Psychedelic wasn’t entirely custom to hearing address him. His ear flicked and he turned his head so one eye could survey the mare… she looked so familiar. Familiar enough that he didn’t reply right away but only frowned, watching her, clearly attempting to connect the dots in his mind.

And then it clicked.

“Raniyah?” He asked, a bit of breathless surprise on his tone. Psychedelic turned so he could face her more fully. When last they’d crossed paths the mysteries of mares had left him confused but now he was ten years old and between his stays on the islands and his travels abroad, Psychedelic knew a lot more than he had before. He knew enough to remember Raniyah had liked him. Actually liked him.

“Uh… hey. What have you…been up to?”

As always, you’re a natural born Casanova.

we're the drunken gods of the living dead
WE'RE THE VOICE, WE'RE THE VOICE, WE'RE THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD


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