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.

i feel my soul on fire



His hooves stepped with a tension that came with the wafting testosterone. Of the isles he had crossed this tended to be the warmest towards the end of what had been an oddly mild winter. There were still a few bugs bussing within the mud and the muck on this land, perhaps coming to life after their hibernation. For a creature who was used to dry winters dear Marius wasn’t accustomed to the humidity that rolled off of this land, the chocking and sputtering he was sure to endure if he spurred his body into a run. There was a chance he would have to run. That was the more terrifying thought that draped itself over the lilac roan stallion. It is true he had been separated from the remainder of his former band, most of the others hadn’t survived the winter and their bony corpses lay as dried husks on the flat and empty plains they had been forced into. Even now Marius’ own ribs protruded slightly, as he had been a glutton in the last three weeks whenever he came across grass or bark that hadn’t been stripped from the trees.

Swallowing the nerves that plagued him Marius moved forward, his nostrils flared and eyes keen and searching. Now he could smell other stallions but he knew he needed to present himself to whoever their leader was. Would he need to beg for mercy? Prove himself? Make a large and grand gesture? Unlike his former band leader Marius didn’t know anything of the stallion that roamed these borders, if he was someone who would welcome him warmly or disregard him with hardly a glance. All he knew was the whispers on the wind that told of the Lagoon being the land where stallions lived who did not seek herd-life.

In the faint distance he can hear the low rumble of a nicker, Marius raises his head slightly and his ears swivel towards the sound. Without the former hesitation his body moves into a slow trot, hooves stomping over the dirt and carrying him with that highly prominent Spanish blood. Extending his neck towards the ground he inhales the worn scents and weaves with little difficulty through the trees. Lifting his head as he breaks through the gnarled trees he spots them and comes to an abrupt halt. Head held high and nostrils flared he doesn’t catch the words they had exchanged but before him stand two stallions who share that gold gene. One stands closer to the water and watches the painted stallion. Whatever is being said Marius can tell it’s not pleasurable.

Standing a few yards off the quiet Marius lowers his head, one hoof stomps into the sandy muck and he releases a low whinny. In his former band he had laid towards the bottom of the pecking order. Large enough to look threatening but meek enough where he never started up any trouble nor did many words slip from his lips. A quiet man. He does not step closer to them, his body language submissive, this is not his home. Not yet.

"Talking looks like this."


i feel my soul on fire-- marius of nowhere.


[character, html, and all content © rya]



((Sorry for crashing! Figured this might be easier than making a whole new post.))

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