The Lost Islands
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Peak

The Prime Minister

Khar'pern

The Codebreaker

Ashteroth

The General

Clarity

The Companions
Geçersiz None None

The Thinkers

Bubbles
Chenoa

The Politicians

Harmonie
Hollis
Versace

The Warriors

Starling

The Trinkets

Osmanthus

PRIME MINISTER'S DECREE

None

The Offspring

Ryvar (Khyber x Khar'pern)

Rules

• The Vulcan Peak is where homeless mares come to live as a sisterhood. Stallions may not live here except as captives or companions for the Leaders.

• Warriors keep mainly to fighting, Thinkers keep mainly to raiding, and Politicians may do both, neither, or act as diplomats. Members may issue their own battles and raids, but should generally consult the General, Codebreaker or Prime Minister for permission.

• All major decisions are determined by vote, but the Prime Minister maintains order within the Peak 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 Peak works on the Rules page.
diamond noose at your throat
Posted on February 4, 2025 at 09:07:26 PM by Versace

Relief washed over the young mare at the sight and sound of Marceline. They had become friends in the last few seasons, which was something Versace had hoped for in the year and some since she'd first come to the Peak. She had been so young, having abandoned her dam near the Commons before racing here of her own accord. Marcy had been a beacon, an icon inspiring an already over-confident filly.

The dunalino closed her eyes when Marcy's muzzle touched her face, the mare's breath hot against the cooling slick of sweat on her brow. Another contraction, less powerful than the one before, caused her barrel to cramp. Versace winced because of it. The pains she'd been experiencing were starting to fade, like Marcy had said. Yet, a whimper left the maiden at the thought of standing. She was so tired. No, the dunalino did not want to stand. She would have rather laid on the rocky ground for another week or more, but the desire to please Marcy won out.

At first, she only nodded. Then, after several long minutes, Versace grunted as she tried to right herself. Every movement made the maiden ache down to her bones. Dust remained printed in the fur she'd laid on, small puffs of it releasing with the tobiano's slow progression. The muscles along her spine and ribs cramped with another fading squeeze. Yet, she persisted. For Versace knew if she stopped that she would crumble back down to her knees.

Once upright, tan hooves of her forelegs untucked and splayed at an awkward angle before her. Deep, panting breaths flared the ivory silk of the girl's nostrils, the veins in them bright and red in the sunlight. Her confidence stalled, feeling the shakiness plaguing her still, but Versace drove herself upward. Her forehand and hindquarters were almost like a teeter-totter as the young thing scrabbled to get upright. Then it was done. Her whole body quivered with the effort it had taken.

Versace, still weak, found herself a little dizzy in the aftermath of her rising. Turning to Marcy with unsure steps, the girl gave her friend and leader a breathless laugh before breaching the few feet between them. "I did it, Marcy," she said, voice like a whisper of air as Versace slung her head around the Prime Minister's and rested it heavily on her withers. "I got it out," the dunalino panted, a weak smile and relief audible in her voice.



Versace


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