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.
Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on July 30, 2018 at 07:55:26 PM by Macabre




"If Love himself weep, shall not lovers weep,
learning from what sad cause he pours his tears?
Love hears his ladies crying their distress,
showing forth bitter sorrow through their eyes
because villainous Death has worked its cruel
destructive art upon a gentle heart,
and laid waste all that earth can find to praise
in a gracious lady, save her chastity."

The terrain is as bleak as the folklore described. As the cool temperatures began to set in, death seemingly washed over the Lagoon, too. Trees dried into brittle, naked sticks, which cast long finger-like shadows on the murky ground under the sun and the moon. The smell of rich mud and algae was ever-present, and it sweetened to the point of putrid the closer she made her way towards the territory's water source. She shivered, once and then twice, as a chill ran down the length of her spine. The humid air reminded her of Atlantis. But with the moisture, came a more sharp and bitter kind of cold in autumn and winter.

Despite the unforgiving terrain and its temperatures, the petite chestnut mare held her head high as she wandered into enemy territory. She told herself over and over again in her mind that this was only temporary. A few short months as a captive here, and then she could return home. Perhaps the time away from the Peak would be good for her daughter too. Wasp was old enough that she no longer relied on her mother's milk for survival. Soon she'd be old enough to embark on her own journey, wherever that took her. But maybe under the tutelage of the skilled Bozena, she'd decide to stay and train to be a warrior of the Peak. That kind of career path did not sit well in Macabre's stomach. It was demanding and obviously dangerous. But knowing Wasp would stay close to home rather than going off on her own, cut the blow just a little.

Macabre had no interest in announcing her arrival to Cullen or his few cronies. So instead, she kept moving, her pace was stiff but brisk. She edged herself around the deepest parts in the muddy tracks, and stopped to graze under the dull shine of the moon when she found a few stems with some green or yellow still to them. Her dark, marbled eyes were wide and bright. She blinked in quick succession every time she heart the faint crack of a twig in the distance or the ruffling of a bird's feathers from overhead. She knew it was only a matter of time until Cullen caught her scent in the damp air. The anticipation made her prance in place.




"Hear then how Love paid homeage to this lady;
I saw him weeping there in human form,
observing the stilled image of her grace;
and more than once he raised his eyes toward Heaven,
where that sweet soul already had its home,
which once, on earth, had worn enchanting flesh."

Macabre | 12 | Mare | Mustang X Morgan | 14.2 HH | flaxen chestnut | © Vinyl




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