Wall of Legends

Featured Characters

Era: September 2009 - ?
Player: Hound
Gender: Mare
Breed: Mutt
Colour: Amber Champagne Dun
Height: 16.2hh
Lineage: Show Time x Unknown

"Anath has been a longstanding character on The Lost Islands, born and raised on Salem. She is a character with a heightened sense of familial loyalty, willing to back up and fight for those of her blood (or those she has chosen to call family) with a fervor unmatched by any other, and she's never been bound by anyone's limitations but her own. Fiercely proud and unapologetic, this independent mare has left her mark on the lives of many." ~ Uforia

Summer is here. Summer is almost here. Anath knows not what to do with herself. She knows for a fact that she needs to make the rounds, she needs to check up on the Islands. The old tradition of kings had fallen by the wayside - that was enough to upset her. It was enough to drive her from the Peak to see what needed to be done, who needed to be checked on. The Kings... the Kings seemed to be the last thing to connect the new things to the old things. Fragile, gossamer threads held them all together.

She couldn't do it. Not anymore. Anath was starting to lose touch. She couldn't think of the names of the stallions that now held the Islands in the palms of their hands. They couldn't go on not knowing their neighbors. She'd been a politician back in the day, Anath had. She'd prided herself on knowing the names and the stories and the business in a world of men. She'd kept track of things for her father and for her uncle and for anyone who needed keeping track of. She'd been so good at it. Look where the dun mare was now.

Anath couldn't even do it. She was removed from what was important, and that was getting harder and harder by the day. The creature needed a way of clinging back to her world. She was ripe with things to say, but at the same time, she needed to figure out what those words were. How was she supposed to go about bringing the Islands back together if the words were rotting on her tongue, were falling away before she could get her head around them. The champagne mare had been so well spoken once. She was the pride of the Badlands, once upon a time.

Things would always be changing. The general had put the brakes on such a long time ago. It was starting to get out of hand. Who was she to talk to if the Islands didn't have kings? Change. More change. Too much, far too much to handle for the mare that had been raised on these Islands. They were a part of her, each and every one of them. They all meant something to her, and that was enough to fill her up. At least Anath had a purpose. It was more important than anything that the general had something to do.

The champagne mare had been back to the Salem enough times to count on fingers since she'd left the first time. She should have visited more - she should have made her presence known. Instead, the champagne mare allowed herself to sit in the Peak and not look at anyone in particular. She was streaked with silver and grey now, and she looked... old. Fifteen was old for a mare of her stature and size, of the wild variety. Time passed quickly or not at all for the mare, and sometimes it was both. She was being yanked in two different directions, and that was a lot to ask. Her veins flowed hot with desert sand, but her heart beat the rhythm of the Peak.

Islands. She was the Islands. Beating, throbbing, always going never stopping, even to sleep - the Common isle was her heart. Cold and pebbly, seemingly unfeeling but telling more stories than she could ever think up and hold onto to remember - the Tinuvel was her hooves. Ever hot and humid, feeling the wrath of mother nature and her coddling embrace, drying out and becoming greasy and alive when the weather willed it - Atlantis was her skin. Hot and shifting, breathing, living though sometimes it seemed like there was no life to be found - Salem was the blood in her veins. Growing and changing, showing so much of changes of the world around, lush and green, seeming to catch every bit of what was going on in the world - the Luthien was her eyes. Anath was the Islands.

And she's back home. She was raised just next door to the Dunes. Her eyes curse the area that used to be the Wastelandâ€¦ her first child had been conceived there. Dully she wonders where Legacy is now. The bay mare hadn't been seen since Anath dropped her off at the border of the Desert and into the hands of her uncle. The champagne mare fades back into the sands and allows them to take her mind and bring it elsewhere. She drifts over the shifting sands, knowing just how to navigate them. Anakin was here last time she was.

A sunbleached bay appears in her mind, lithe and bright under the desert sands. Anakin is a mirage, and she knows it. She knows that he doesn't exist anymore - he's long lost. She could smell the stench when he died, she saw the bones picked clean by the vultures. It was a fairly normal sight in the Salem - survival of the fittest overtook them all. Desert living wasn't for everyone. You had to be special for the desert not to chew you up and spit you out.

What was even scarier was the fact that the very, very last time she'd been here, the one that her brain had forced out, Lothor had been here. She was living in the Peak then, and it was on one of her many outings. Eleven years. Eleven years ago, Lothor had been killed right here in the Dunes. Glory - Glory was gone now, yet his memory was something that's tainted the dun mare's mind. It brought tension and stress to her muscles. Her head was starting to ache - she wanted Anakin back. Anakin, at least, ahd some sense in matters that involved politics. Anath, it seemed, lacked sense.

Her eyes hit a robust stallion. She moves closer - he doesn't look like a face that's stuck to the flypaper in her brain. The creature's posture goes on the defensive. She longs to protect this land, though it's not hers to rule any more. It's clear. She smells of the Peak, Anath does, but that doesn't mean much right now. The mare's green eyes narrow, but dance across the face of the creature that had appeared in the Dunes. The sound in her throat is low and equestrian, as if she doesn't know what to say. Still, her presence has been announced. That's enough.

Anath moves with a certain grace over the sand. Though she smells of the Common island, she was born to the sand. She's a bit heavier than those that were bred to it as well, but it doesn't matter. Her ears hang slightly backward, but not enough for aggression. Not yet. Instead, there's a statement that hangs off her tongue. "You don't live here." Blunt and not necessarily discourteously, she speaks. Words are just a formality. She needs to figure out who this man is and what he's doing here. She doesn't know that this place lacks a lead. Not yet.

Anath

"HEROES GET REMEMBERED
LEGENDS NEVER DIE "

Era: October 2010- ?
Player: Jenger
Gender: Mare
Breed: Mutt
Colour: Smoky Cream Dun
Height: 15.2hh
Lineage: Moray x Orca

"Anemone was a lovely, kind-hearted character whose posts were always eloquent, rewarding and enjoyable to read. She was and always will be a key member of the Inlet's family, and an important, memorable character of The Lost Islands." ~ Chaos

"And you're limping." She responds with a slight frown, brushing her gossamer whiskers against his pale neck. But she doesn't press him any further than her quiet observation, instead settling silently against his warm side when he shifted closer. She was cold, certainly, and exhausted, but so too should Lyov be and it was he she worried after, not herself.

This child had become, while perhaps not her entire world, a large part of her focus. She wondered if this was something all mothers felt, this unwavering willingness to forsake oneself for the safety and comfort of their child- or if perhaps this compulsion was tied strictly to the first child. She wondered also if it was the same for Koschei, and if it wasn't, had it ever been? It was not as though this was his first child- theirs was not even among Koschei's first born. But the Koschei she knew, the one he allowed her to know, was not a heartless creature and she found it an impossibility that he should ever cease to care for his own.

She remains still against his side, forcing herself to ignore the cold that nips at her damp skin and seeps in against her hollowed hips and exaggerated spaces between her ribs- she doesn't want Koschei to worry over her. There is only quiet as Koschei leans forward to touch his son, their son, and she holds her breath, silent, waiting.

Lyov.

Like the sigh of wind through the trees, his voice is quiet, hushed, and she can't be sure she even heard him properly. But this doesn't matter to her; she has known her son many months and he has always been without a name- another day would make little difference. She rubs the side of her muzzle against Koschei's warm shoulder, concealing (ineffectively) a yawn within a sigh as she took a quiet step towards Lyov.

But she is distracted almost immediately, her eyes, sea-green and full of secrets, drawing across the smile against his mouth. He had never smiled for her before, though she supposed this smile, albeit a halfhearted one, was more for Lyov than it was for herself- how could it be any other way? But it doesn't keep her from touching her nose to his with a quiet, trembling sigh, exchanging breaths in a few short seconds.

She remembers quite suddenly, a question she had not answered, and she pauses, nipping lightly at his cheek.

"I am," she shifts toward Lyov, her eyes still resting on Koschei's face, "happy, that is."

And she is happy, even despite the shadow behind her gaze and the sorrow that built and thickened in the back of her throat. She knew the pain would change, lessen perhaps, or fade, but the happiness she felt was deeper than that. It didn't stem from a single event like her sorrow did, it was bigger than that, richer perhaps, as much a part of Anemone as the Inlet was, as Lyov and Koschei were.

Certainly her happiness was bound indefinitely to all three.

Her head drops over the split in Lyov's steely back, holding him close against the skin-numbing cold. She has put a few inches distance between herself and Koschei in her effort to protect Lyov in the same way Koschei had moved to block Anemone from the cold, and her vulnerable skin protests against the absence of his warmth. But it was easy to ignore her own discomfort and instead consider the way they fit together like an almost-family, certainly not perfect like a puzzle- they never would be, she never learned how to be- but passable, acceptable, and it was more than enough.

A N E M O N E
oh scarecrow, it ain't so bad

Era: 7th February 2010 - 27th June 2017
Player: Jessy
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Mutt
Colour: Silver Black
Height: 15.2hh
Lineage: Gloryhound x Dogwood

"Balthazar was an amazing character. He was deep, fascinating and had so many layers to his personality - not to mention the fact that he was wrapped up in all of the most exciting plots in the game during his era. His posts were always wonderfully written and a pleasure to read. He deserves to be remembered." ~ Chaos

In the dead of night a thin, silver-maned stallion wearily approached a well-trod path that led to a narrow mountain pass. There was no hesitation in him, no fear, and he moved as if he knew this area intimately, as though this pathway was mapped upon his heart. Balthazar turned back only once on his slow ascent. He came to a ledge, and paused upon it awhile, looking down and admiring the view. It took his breath away.

"Forgive me, my son for leaving so soon," he whispered into the night. There was a twinge of regret, but it quickly passed. "I just wanted you to know where I came from, to see the Peak for yourself, so that someday you might understand what it represents, and what it means to me." He closed his eyes, felt the cool of the night settle upon him. It invigorated him, and gave him the strength to go on, but not without voicing a final hope for his young son that he'd left at the foot of the mountain. "Return to your mother's people, Crane, Yashtari, if that is what your heart desires. Find your Reason, child, and never let it go."

Onwards he went, following winding paths that slowly took him higher. A smudge of darkness beckoned him, and he came to a halt before the small cavern, with its yawning mouth. It had been his, for a short time, when Impazienza had told him to stay. Those days had been hard for him, but the memories of the two who had greeted him when he'd finally emerged made it all worthwhile. Áshildr had approached, bearing her scars, wearing them like armour, and she had breathed life back into him with her kindness. And then another had come, one familiar to Balthazar. Black Heart Machine.

Balthazar had been surprised to see her. For as long as he could remember, she had always been here, as much a part of the mountain as its grass and earth and stone - as ever present and there-and-gone as the winds that rolled down the mountainside from its very Peak, cold sometimes, relentless and revolutionary always. Life changing in the subtlest of ways. It was bewildering that she had come down to speak to him. Time had changed them both, but there was a raw and restless energy to the black mare that had never failed to trap his breath in his throat when he was a timid and vulnerable slip-of-a-boy. And even after all these years, having those eyes on him, hearing that voice, the air still stuttered in his lungs.

"Heart," he'd said, because he remembered this was who she had been to the grey Arabian who had saved his life once. Corinth was gone now, but he would never forget her. He shook his head and cleared his throat. "It's been a while, Black Heart Machine," he said softly, unwanted memories stirring of another grey, another lost-and-gone soul that served as a connection between the subdued silver and black boy, and the shadow mare who would forever be mighty in Balthazar's eyes.

After some time, Balthazar again grew restless, and he meandered on. All he had left now were memories - ones that haunted him, and ones that didn't. They lay heavy across his shoulders, and when they become all too much for him to bear, he raised his whiskered chin and settled his gaze upon the Peak towering above him. Since his turbulent childhood, the Peak had always been what had grounded him. When his brother had been killed and he'd only been spared to send a message, it was here that he had ended up, on his last legs. And it was here that he had found one who would become a light in his dark and troubled life - a light that would always guide him and never go out.

"Corinth," he breathed, and pulled up short, as if the sound of her name had torn the ache from his heart, coaxed the exhaustion from his bones (if just for a few moments). The mountain loomed above, unchanged. Weathered by storms, by nature, by time. In Balthazar's eye, the mountain was as beautiful as ever, and no stories or memories could do it justice. The Peak would forever remain unchanged by time, as would he. The silver-haired stallion had always been bruised and hurting, always been skinny and meek. He had always been weak, and the mountain before him had always been strong. He felt it even now, giving him the strength to go on, even though he was frail, and so tired.

He trod the winding path, skin and bone and wisps of moonlight.

Balthazar would make easy prey for any predators that lurked among the rocks and in the shadows. But he was granted safe passage. In his heart, he believed that the Peak looked after its own, and even though he was an unbelonger here in some ways, he had been bound to the Peak for his whole life, and those that truly mattered had understood this. If not the mountain itself, perhaps it was his memories that kept him safe. He imagined he wasn't walking alone - there were three others with him, keeping pace just out of reach. On one side, a skinny grey with a thin face, and to the other, a larger figure who loomed, whose steps shook the very ground. Slenderman and The Candyman. And trailing behind, with a lowered head, was his father, Gloryhound. Balthazar faltered, went to turn, but the path was narrow, and something stopped him. Loup-Garou, his brother. Balthazar dreamed he was waiting just up ahead, and so he altered his course, moving away from the edge of the mountain path that had nearly been his end.

"Forgive me," Balthazar begged of his brother, peering into the darkness, trying to see him with some kind of clarity. It had been so long, and Balthazar had forgotten so much. Loup-Garou looked so young. Balthazar waited, desperately wanting to hear his brother's voice one last time. But Loup-Garou did not speak. Balthazar did hear something though, but it was so soft that his mangled ear struggled to catch it. Forgive us. Balthazar turned in his waking-dream, peering at the three behind him. He couldn't discern who had spoken, but the three stallions (as he remembered them) stared back, silent and unmoving. "I will. I have. You are forgiven."

Eyes closed for a moment, and they were gone. Balthazar was alone, except for his own words that echoed on and on. You are forgiven. The voice wasn't his any longer, but it was one that he knew, and loved. "Soleil," he breathed. You are forgiven. You are forgiven.. His stars. The ones he'd lost in the fire. He found them, shining down on him, settled together in the sky, not far from the mountain's peak. His chest felt tight and panic began to rise within him. Higher he climbed, stopping more frequently, moments of rest becoming minutes. A despairing sob slipped from his lips when Balthazar realised he didn't the will and the strength to go on any farther.

Suddenly he startled, feeling the hairs rise along his neck. Somewhere between his waking and his dreaming, he was no longer alone. Someone else was with him again. A mare who had come to these Islands a lifetime ago, and had called the Desert home, reigned there for a time as Queen. She had never been a mother to him, and even as Balthazar tried to say her name now, it caught in his throat, and he struggled to swallow. Dogwood. Silence passed between them, and after the beating of his heart settled, together they continued. Balthazar's steps were far from nimble; stones clattered, and the painted mare picked her way soundlessly. They were close to the top when the mare fell back, and Balthazar turned to watch with his seeing eye as she faded away.

Sleep took him, and in his dreams, he stood with the Watchers again, and the youngest and brightest of them - Kye, Saaid, came to Balthazar, more at peace than the silver black male had ever seen him. "I found my reason for living, Balthazar. Turns out it was with me all along." And the two of them looked towards the chestnut's kin (Jezibelle's kin), and Balthazar could feel the intense love between them all, prickling at his skin. The boy's father beckoned, and with one parting touch, Kye left Balthazar's side. "Thank you," Kye whispered fervently into his ear, or what little remained of it, and Balthazar watched them head into the unknown together - a family restored.

Balthazar woke with a smile on his lips, and not even the fatigue that sapped his strength could diminish his joy in any way. So many things in his life had been broken, and it bolstered him to think that for once he had done something right. The sky was beginning to grow lighter along the horizon now, and with great effort, Balthazar made his way to the summit. Something moved in the corner of his seeing eye, and he turned, expecting to see Black Heart Machine, stepping out of the shadows. But she didn't appear, and the world was so silent and still around him. He had never felt so at peace. "I am sorry to have kept you waiting," he murmured, echoing the first words he'd ever spoken to Jezibelle, so long ago at the foot of this very mountain. He continued speaking as if she were with him now, nostalgia and something deep and all-consuming washing over him like rays of light. "Do you remember? I came here when I was hardly more than a babe. The Peak was beautiful to me even back then, and I wanted it to be the last thing I saw."

It was difficult, trying to keep his eyes open, but he managed. He thought he saw Rurisk, watching over his sister as always, with a loyalty that moved Balthazar deeply. "Look at him, Jezibelle. Remember the story you told me? He is mighty. Larger than life, and louder than all the words I could ever speak." Balthazar lapsed into silence, and with a weariness, he scoured the heavens. The moon was nowhere to be seen. The stars had vanished, and the sun had started to creep over the horizon. It was blinding in its brilliance, and as the first rays of light kissed his skin, he sighed happily, and sank to his knees. There, that was better. He wasn't so cold now, and his body wasn't so tired. It was peaceful, lying in the scrub on the pinnacle, wispy mane splayed about like ghostly beams of moonlight.

A thought occurred to the skinny stallion, and he shifted his head a little, drawing in a breath, speaking with a soft wheeze. "You said you waited for me. Nine years. Maybe it was you all along. It was because of you that this place wouldn't let go of me, why I couldn't let go of it. Because you were waiting, I came running." Balthazar fell silent, and his breathing became lighter. The sky above him was stunning, but he couldn't see it. In his mind's eye, it was always night, and the moon was bright and full, low in the sky. A shadow moved across the mountain peak towards him, hazy in the dawn. If not for the white patches, presence of two ears, and lack of cloudiness in one eye, the two scrawny stallions could have been identical.

As if sensing the figure, Balthazar stirred weakly, but even his good eye couldn't see much anymore. With a groan, the ailing male sank back down, grimacing as a sudden pressure on the side of his head, just beneath the stub of his missing ear, filled him with discomfort. "Oh my Mountain, you opened my eyes. I became what I hated most." The pressure intensified and Balthazar gasped in pain, but still persisted in speaking. "I abandoned my son," he sobbed now. "I was so afraid I would never be good enough but he - he didn't need me to be perfect. He just needed me to be there, and I wasn't, I wasn't."

The pitiful keening was carried away by the fresh mountain wind. "Please tell him, won't you?" Balthazar begged. "Tell him that I remembered him at the end of my journey." Silence, save for the shallow lungfuls of air that Balthazar felt dragging down his throat. "Say to him: Lysander, your father, he never deserved you. Among all his losses, losing you was the hardest to bear, and among all his regrets, what he did to you cut him the deepest."

Tears had dampened Balthazar's muzzle, but he sighed with weary relief as the pressure lessened, and the pain throbbing in his head ebbed away. The only legacy Balthazar had left for his wayward son were the sins of a father. It was not right. It was not. "Forgive me," Balthazar wheezed, seeking absolution for the last time. He could not rest, not yet. And he waited, clinging to life, unable to leave this world without some kind of reassurance. And there, in an echo, lay his answer. "You are forgiven." A gentle huff of warm air set the skin of his cheek to tingling, and a beautifully broken smile spread across his lips.

(The stallion who'd hovered over Balthazar, who'd planted a hoof on Balthazar's skull, who'd whispered clemency in Balthazar's ruined ear, now turned and departed, heading for the mountain path that had led them both here. Sandman, Lysander, did not look back. Their time here was over, and though his father would remain forever apart of this place, the retreating stallion would never roam these Lost Islands again.)

"Jezibelle," Balthazar whispered hoarsely, stirring for the last time. "Before you go; Tell me a story, about the Mountain who waited until the end of time for her Moonwalker." He swallowed, and lay still, mane and tail shining in the early morning light. "And I'll tell you, I'll tell you about the Moonwalker, and how - how he loved his Mountain, with the whole of his heart." Another breath was drawn in, and it was heavy with the scent of the Peak, the windtorn grass and the dry earth and the mossy stone. It was peaceful here. It was the most beautiful place he'd ever seen. "And how he loved her for all of his life."

Era: ? - ?
Player: Fly
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Friesian x Percheron
Colour: Grey (Black)
Height: 18.0hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Bellum's a gentle giant. He's eighteen hands full of angst and hurt and love. He's had his heart broken so many times, and he always swears he'll never love again, but Bellum is just so lovable that none of the ladies can resist. He's honest and kind to every mare he meets, it's no wonder he has such a hectic love life. You either love Bellum or you hate him, and he has plenty of lovers and haters. The constant antagonizing between him and Creature was fun to watch. A truly unforgettable stallion." ~ Moonie

It had never occurred to me that Blackberry was Fox's offspring. If I had known then, I might have laughed at the irony of it. But I didn't know, so I simply smiled once more at the girl and turned away, ready to be shredded into pieces by the girl I had once loved. That was a lie. I still loved her, but not as a partner, but as a part of my family. A piece of my past. Nonetheless, she still had the power to break me. And break me she did.

Her words, sharp and well aimed, stung me. At her touch my ears flatten against my neck, not in anger, but in defeat. Brokenly, I bow under the weight of those words. "You're right." My head lowered once more. "I don't know you." The glimmer that had briefly danced in my emerald hues was instantly extinguished. "I thought I knew you. But I knew nothing at all. You fell for me all too quickly and I broke you." I murmur, feeling a hollowness opening up inside of me. "Just like I'm broken now." Slowly, I turn to gaze at her. "I shouldn't have lead you on back in END. Blood had just left me and....well I was broken and I felt so alone then. I needed someone and you were there." The words were blunt, but not intended to hurt. The hollowness finds a way into my eyes. "I'm sorry Art. I should have treated you so much better than how I did. How I am now." My mouth twists into an unpleasant grimace with her next jab. One that breaks the dam holding back all of my emotions. A red hot fury pours into the hollow hole left in my chest and rages through my veins, dangerous and unwanted.

"Do you think I asked for any of this?" I gesture angrily between the two of us, emerald eyes alight with frustration and pain. "Did you ever think for a moment that maybe, just maybe, I thought I had a chance with you?" My nostrils flare in flash of my temper. "Artempsia, I never thought I had a chance in hell with Alessa. And guess what?" My voice rises with anger and breaks with agony. "I was right! I never had a chance with her. She always belonged to Fox and nothing was going to change that. I could tell her I loved her a million times, we could have stayed together for years and nothing would have changed. Even if I had been here when Fox had come back, I couldn't have stopped her from leaving me for him. It would have made things more painful for both she and I yes, but she was never mine. For once, I was the second choice and I got cast away! And with Blood?" Now my tears flow freely again. "I had already lost her when you came waltzing into my life." My voice has dropped back down to a whisper. "I thought I had lost everything when I turned to you for comfort." At this, I rise my head and gaze at her. I feel completely naked, like I just laid my soul out for her to see.

The bitterness returns with the name of that stallion - her new love. Damocles. "I'm glad you're happy." I spit, but the words have no real venom in them. "Now you have the chance to make me feel even more miserable." Suddenly, I jerk away from the painted mare. "You used to make me feel so low. You came to me with those haunted eyes and tore me to pieces every time I saw you. I felt so guilty about you for so long and now you're going to come back and make it so much worse." My eyelids flutter down against the tears leaking from my eyes. "I guess now that you're happy you want to flaunt it in my face." Again, my lips twist into a bitter smile and when I reply to her next words, my voice is self-loathing. "You know that isn't true." My head whips around to regard this girl, the one person left who has the power to destroy me. "I don't deserve better, because I'm not good. Everyone I meet gets broken. No matter what I do. I will always be this destructive thing. A monster. Something unworthy of love." I sigh and face Art again.

"So how am I doing?" I chuckle, but the sound isn't happy. It is world-weary. The sound of someone on the verge of giving up. "I guess you know the answer to that." My gaze finds Blackberry, standing alone just a few steps away. I abruptly change the subject back to something safe. Still a coward, still hurting. Still the same old unchanging shadow of a man I have been since Lotus left. "Art. What is going on between you and Blackberry? She seems terrible opposed to you. And you don't seem any more inclined than she to behave kindly." The glare the two had exchanged hadn't passed unnoticed.

Era: 15th December 2009 - ?
Player: Dash
Gender: Mare
Breed: Akhal-Teke
Colour: Black
Height: 16.0hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Black Heart Machine is intelligent and cunning; as head thinker of the Peak she is a powerful and successful woman. Some might say she is an example to all aspiring Vulcans - the perfect icon of independent femininity. Machine is ruthless when it comes to business and yet she isn't cold or heartless either. Also, on a slightly unprofessional note, the Black Heart Machine x Slenderman love story is the best I've seen in a long time. It is both touching and humorous at the same time. Both characters deserve their place on the Legends page and I can't wait to see how the twins turn out with parents from such different walks of life." ~ Chaos

Black Heart Machine stood facing him, watching. She wanted to break him, his aura, it drew her in like perfume and she wanted to tear through it. Like ripping through cellophane. She wanted to reach out and slice it and watch it fall away. As he pushed in, she raised her nose, higher and higher until the top of her forehead was parallel to the ground, her long forelock draped the side of her face like a black curtain. He said his name and she almost hated him for answering her question so simply. Being near him was like staring down the barrel of a loaded shotgun and being suicidal. God, pull the trigger. Enough with the foreplay.

Machine was nearly losing her cool and she had no idea why. What the hell was he doing to her and why was she so goddamn interested? There was a lump in her throat waiting for the moment she was to speak, but she could not yet. He continued to tease her with his words and all she could do was listen. There was something in his voice even that was just not right. And then he asked her name. She swallowed. A switch flipped.

"Black Heart Machine."

She said every word slowly and deliberately, wrapping her lips around her name, pronouncing every part of it slowly and perfectly. She lowered her nose now and stepped forward, penetrating his space, crowding him. And then she circled him like a raven, never taking her dark eyes off of him. Every now and then, she would extend her long and vulnerable neck and graze her velvet nose against different parts of his body ever so lightly. She was learning him, looking for any crack or crevice he had, and waiting to see if she could pry it open. She spoke, her voice dangerous and sultry as she circled.

"So Slenderman. Akhal-Teke. Why have you come upon me here hm? Where do you come from? What is your purpose?"

She didn't even care if he answered her questions. As far as Machine was concerned they were a distraction from what she was really doing. She was going to use him. And use him hard.
BLACK HEART MACHINE

Era: May 2012 - ?
Player: Blushie
Gender: Mare
Breed: Akhal-Teke
Colour: Palomino
Height: 15.3hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Blushie brings a southern belle to life with ease through the eyes of the Akhal-teke, Dia. With just the right blend of soft and hard, she is a mare many can look up to. With her unique attitude, outlook, and of course dialogue, Dia is a real pleasure to read and even better to play with. Her quick wit and southern charm make her stand out in any circumstance." ~ Fabled

those who do not learn from history

are doomed to repeat it

I looked between the two. Stallions business was always stallion business, so said my mamma. I'd always left it at that myself. The sabino had stopped his shifting. I greeted Sahin with a gentle brush, but all too soon he ordered me to stay and then rushed back. Well, normally, I would have done just that. This time, though, I had a question. And hell or high water come but I was going to get an answer.

Sahin did not seem to be in a talking mood. The thinly veiled threat was clear for all to see. So I positioned myself between the stallions.

"Whad's all dis 'all' 'boy runn'n off inda win' an' rain?" I snorted. "Da' weda ain' sui'ed fer anyding. Id'll run ya off ta, Sahin. Den where would da 'erd be? Eh?" It was simple really. I didn't want Sahin hurt by the storm. And it certainly was raging now. I could hear thunder every few seconds and the cave lit up by lightning. The hurricane had arrived in full force.

"Sides," I turned my eyes to the stranger. "Dis un ain' go'in nawhere 'ill he ansas my question. How'dya kna Sa'hiba?" I stomped my hoof and gave the other stallion my full stare. There was no mistaking the name, a strange enough one that meant so many things to me and me alone.

If my daughter was on the islands, I had the right (and need) to know. And gods be damned, I was going to know. The thunder outside seemed to rumble in response to my internal blasphemy. I snorted and turned back towards the entrance. Would it kill them/him/her/whatever to turn the noise down a bit so I could get a straight answer? No. It would most certainly not!

But the powers that be seemed to not care about my opinions. Their loss.

:. mare .:. seven .:. akhal-teke .:. palomino .:. 15.3 hh .:. lives in the paradise .:. mother of .:. unknown x unknown .:. Blushie .:

Dia

html and character (c) blushie 2014 and on || image by couture equine designs; credits click for full.

Era: 2011 - September 2015
Player: Uforia
Gender: Mare
Breed: Arabian x Akhal-Teke
Colour: Black
Height: 15.1hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"As for El Aran, I HAVE had the opportunity to plot with her in great detail, so maybe I'm a little biased. However, anyone who hasn't stalked her should, because the amount of thought and detail that went into her character history and development is quite honestly mind-boggling. This powerful, independent, intriguing character inspired me to better my own writing." ~ Peach

"I think El Aran has an absolutely captivating personality, and I've had the pleasure of watching (from afar, of course) her grow and change as though she were a real person that was facing the trials of her life. Despite never getting a chance to really thread with her, I have been following her carefully and I find that Uforia manages to really capture a unique personality that everyone should have the opportunity to post with her and damn well enjoy it! No but really, El Aran is a really dynamic character that people should keep an eye out for." ~ Russell

EL ARAN

In the distance, a black form materialized through the haze. El Aran, already tense, jerked a little. Her heartbeat increased as the other horse neared, and when it was close enough to observe her ears turned back in concern. The black stallion's coat seemed to soak up and absorb the sun, and his nose had a more pronounced dish than hers did. If the fine bones in his legs and slender body had not convinced her, the despicable carriage of his head and body did: the stallion was a full-blooded Arabian. El Aran's ears flattened as she lifted her chin. There could be no mistaking the arrogance and pride of the breed. He expelled it from himself with every fart and exhale.

Her own black body was dull and uninteresting, skinny rather than slim and lacking the glorious sheen that all Akhal-Teke's carried. The slight dish in her face and the occasional tendency to flag her tail were the only signs she'd inherited anything at all from her cocksure Arabian ancestors. But El Aran was proud, perhaps moreso than any Arabian or Akhal-Teke, although her pride did not come from the supposed superiority of her bloodlines. She carried a multitude of scars on her body, most clustered along her neck, shoulders, and flanks in silent tribute of the violent battles she had escaped from with her life.

The seer drew her head back and away from the stallion as he stopped before her. Her nostrils flared wide as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her thundering heart, and she did not look away from the stallion as his smooth voice caressed the dry air. El Aran trusted neither his tone nor his words, and in the pause after his first statement she rolled a dark, wary eye at him. There had been the unspoken understanding among her people that anyone who spoke with the words of a diplomat and the voice of a saint was likely full of pent-up aggression and ulterior motives. El Aran had interacted with his kind before, and she would treat this stallion as she had treated every other Arabian or Akhal-Teke she had been subjected to. Her hindquarters clenched as she prepared herself, but when he introduced himself she hesitated.

This was much worse than she had originally thought.

The rest of the stallion's words held no weight with the black mare. El Aran had little care for anyone who thought that sauntering into a territory allowed them to claim it. She had been in this Desert for over two years and had more right to the land than anyone else. And she would not allow herself to be driven out of another desert by a proud, detestable Arabian for the second time in her life. Even if it had been her choice to leave her home all those years ago, it had still been an exile brought about by the intolerance and hate of the Purebreds. This Desert was her land, and someday it might be her son's. She would not be cast aside so easily.

"Aşk!" she cried, and lunged forward in a rear. Her prayer was not for her, but for the sake of Orhan, and the hope that her son would have the good sense to keep hidden as El Aran struck out at the intruder with her front hooves. Her mouth gaped, head extending as she sought to find purchase with her teeth somewhere on the stallion's face or neck.

SEER OF THE DESERT

html made with love by peach for uforia 2014 - image by Lady Naevia

Era: May 2010 - August 2011
Player: Peach
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Spanish Mustang
Colour: Perlino Dun
Height: 15.3hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"El Barroco was a character whose depth and masterfully orchestrated life will never be forgotten.Ã‚ There was always a constant balance of struggle and victory, triumphs and sorrows. He had such a heavy veil over his emotions and heart that you couldnÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t help but strive to peek behind to catch a glimpse of his soul. His life was wrought with turmoil and suffering that eventually was too much for him but his spirit, to me, was the embodiment of chivalry, wisdom, and honor. And if you were lucky enough to pull aside the shield he so warily kept guard over his heart you would find a trickle of playfulness and a vast, vast ocean of love." ~ Kafkaesque

E L. B A R R O C O
Thr-thrum. Thr-thrum. Thr-thrum.

His heart beat steadily and strongly: taunting him. Pressuring him. Questioning him.

He stood knee-deep in the sea, its foamy waves lapping tantalizingly at his pale breast, and stared simply at nothing in particular. His eyes, for all their warm jade hue, were blank, and they resonated from his expression in a manner which suggested there was something silent and sinful going on in that brain of his: like the shark's merciless kill which is, from atop the ocean's surface, unseen and unheard of.

In all truth, he was lost in a memory. And this was the very memory which had been haunting him all his life.

"Momma! Momma-aaaaa!" the voice cried, and through the flames, El Barroco could see the silhouette of a young foal, lost in the burning forest. El Barroco nearly turned away; after all, the foal didn't matter. He wasn't important. What was important was that his mother was gone with the other mares, safe from the fire, so that their mission would be successfully executed.

The foal, like the other males of the herd, would perish, because they didn't matter. They weren't what El Barroco was here for.

He needed to get back to Rigan.

He turned away to leave. The flames were spreading; he could feel their heat growing closer to his backside, smoldering and crackling and threatening to singe his tail. He took one step forward, then another.

But the foal's cries resounded, both throughout the forest and in the conscience El Barroco didn't know he had.

And he felt a flicker, then: not a flame, not anything physical, but a surge of emotion like he'd never experienced. It confused him: it kept him fixed in place amidst the forest fire, despite the fact that if he didn't move, and soon, he would be consumed with the rest of them.

El Barroco turned again, but this time he stared menacingly, intelligently, through the smoking trees and watched the foal scream for his herd. And then, for the first time in his life, he did something without thinking about it first. He tore through the forest and reached the youth, who had begun sobbing in fear and looked up at El Barroco with great, shining eyes.

El Barroco stared at those eyes for a few seconds, and all at once he could no longer see the justice in his actions. What was the point of this? How was terrorizing and killing for the sick pleasures of a few band stallions in any way right? How did he have any more right to survive than this youth?

"Come with me," he said gruffly, and turned to lead the foal away to safety. But there, stepping through the trees and flames, was Rigan. The dark stallion, criss-crossed with scars that shone in the flickering light, stared imperiously at El Barroco.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Creshu? Leave him."

When El Barroco said nothing, instead turning away to lead the foal, who was half-choking from the thick black smoke, in a different direction, Rigan let out a blood-curdling cry of frustration and surged forward, grabbing a thick chunk of his neck and pulling the stallion to the ground. Simultaneously, just above them a burning branch snapped and fell, singing El Barroco's flank. He screamed in shock and struggled to get to his feet. Rigan, who had backed off, looked at El Barroco with fire reflecting in his eyes.

And then, El Barroco knew he could do no more.

He allowed Rigan to lead him safely out of the forest while the foal continued to stumble alone through the flames in a deep state of disorientation. The colt would die without ever seeing his family again, suffocated, before his body was consumed and turned into ash.

Later that night, El Barroco watched as his employers cackled and taunted the distressed mares they'd hustled from the forest, his heart infected with a strange, sickening pain. It had all been planned: the fire, everything. What they hadn't forseen was El Barroco's moment of weakness. Not even he had forseen it.

Rigan approached him, glowering and broody as usual. And even before he said it, El Barroco knew what was coming. "They said you were the best... I don't know what they were thinking, and I don't know what the fuck that was back there, but it wasn't our deal. You could have jeopardized the entire thing. Creshu, you and your bleeding heart are fired."

A new name, a new life. And yet, here he was.

He knew that as long as he lived, and as long as he held these terrible secrets, he would never be able to fully open up to those he cared about. He would never be able to give them what they deserved.

Could he tell them?

He thought of those he'd lost... he thought of how he could have made their lives better while they'd still been around. And in no conceivable way did that include burdening them with his skeletons.

No. What, then?

There was only one thing left to do.

Strangely, he felt nothing. He was completely numb; eerily calm. He would give his family what they deserved - and they did not deserve him. He stepped deeper into the sea, until it reached his chest, then his shoulders. It spilled over his back, then slid up the length of his neck, and finally licked his cheeks. His last thought, as he stared up into the sky and let the water consume him, was how much he had let himself down: how he'd let everyone else down.

Thr-thrum. Thr-thrum... thr-....

And yet, how hard he had tried.
stallion; nine; perlino dun; spanish mustang; 15.3hh; lead of the harbor; by peach

Era: ? - ?
Player: Vinyl
Gender: Mare
Breed: Arabian Mutt
Colour: Palomino
Height: 14.2hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"From a firecracker mare always determined to be a leader, to a sultry flirt who's enjoyed turning every stallion's head who'd look her way, to a character facing such trauma, it's practically torn her asunder, Evaline is one of the strongest characters TLI has seen. The character growth within Evaline is exactly what a reader wishes to experience and following her story over the years has been a true, genuine treat for me (and I'm sure for everyone else, too). Vinyl writes her with grace, poise, and just a soft touch of what's truly lying underneath the surface, the reader is able to experience it all right alongside her. From undeniably strong to her core in spite of what hardships sheâ€™s transgressed, to flawed in just the right way which rounds her out as a fully-formed character one can truly admire (whether you're writing with her or not), you cannot deny Evaline deserves a place among TLI's elite." ~ Pirate

I am the razor in the hands of your heart;
And I am the razor in the hands of God.

The golden mare gazed lazily among the bleak offerings the Prairie provided in winter. There was still plenty of grass, thick blades frozen in place around pockets of snow and sleet, but the foliage was hardly lush or palatable. Instead the stalks were coarse and chewy, bland on the tip of her tongue. A scowl seemed forever-etched into the mare's delicate features as she ate. She was pissed. Pissed that it was this cold. Pissed about her meal. And most of all, pissed about the parasite was was apparently growing inside of her.

Evaline revisited the memory often --- an evening not that long ago she had spent with another stallion among the islands. She had just arrived and had not yet met Valentine. The golden mare had found comfort in the company of the dark and twisty stranger. They had never exchanged names (perhaps the sheer randomness of the experience is what kept the thought on the forefront of her mind,) but they did share a rather intimate experience in the Crossing. It was invigorating, bold and well, sexy. But it is what is -- fleeting, most of all -- and now that Evaline was here with Valentine, the night was proving to be more troublesome than it was worth.

The mare had given birth just once prior in her life. Kasabian, her only son, whom she assumed was still around here somewhere. Despite birthing Kasabian more than a decade ago, Evaline was still very keen on what it felt like to be pregnant. She wasn't showing just yet (thank God,) but the hormonal cycle was in motion. She could feel the creature inside her sucking away all her nutrients. It was driving her mad, making her eat all the time, despite the terrible taste of the food here. It made her tired, for no real reason at all. And if this was even possible, more irritable than normal.

Golden lobes pricked forward upon hearing a disturbance in the distance. Hazel-colored eyes watch as a spotted mare and a very visibly pregnant smaller one, stare at one another in the distance. Evaline had yet to meet any others of Valentine's clan, and this opportunity seemed as good as any to size up her competition. Plus, she could use a bit of a distraction. There was nothing she could do about the kid inside her, anyway. So the palomino mare sauntered over, taking lazy, but graceful strides toward the pair, whom didn't seem to be talking. Strange. Evaline could talk enough for the three of them anyway.

"Well aren't you just as plump as a pumpkin," Evaline spat as she approached, sizing up the smaller -- and more pregnant -- mare. Perhaps it was unfair to target her, she looked terrified, but it was just too damn easy. So ripe for the picking. "I'm sure Valentine is mighty proud." Evaline's eyes rolled and she glanced to the appaloosa with such a feigned grin plastered against her lips that it almost looked as if she was in pain. "I'm Evaline. And you are?"

Era: September 2021 - Present
Player: ~~Six~~ Sable
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Marwari Mutt
Colour: Black
Height: 16.0hh
Lineage: Rougaru x Visurix

Fell’s inner turmoil of man vs beast always provides a very fascinating, very real, and often gritty read that you can’t help but be sucked into from the start of each post to the very end. Six does an amazing job writing a character with limited-to-no dialogue, and the way she deciphers his actions to get his points across to the way she writes his body language when trying to communicate is an absolute artistry. Fell feels like a very real character and as the reader, you are right there alongside him feeling his anguish, his celebration, and his rage. He’s a fantastic and unique character with a "voice" all his own and has invigorated life within the Bay since he took leadership. ~ Pirate

Home is where your teeth sink in

I'll keep the door open
in case you come home

Nyimara's anger surfaces as expected. Fell watches the gears turn in his sister's mind, watches the oil smoke as the workings heat up. He waits.

It clicks into place.

She is furious, he can tell, but she does not lash out at him right away. The mahogany mare circles him, a cruel smile on her lips, the weight of her pressing on him. I think not, she purrs, and Fell forces himself to hide the irritation he feels at her refusal. He is not exactly surprised at her quick rejection, but he can't help himself; the Bay stallion does not like to be refused. If only he could explain why he wanted to tie the two of them together in such a manner, perhaps she'd understand.

But he is stuck like this, silent and tense, leaning against Nyimara to avoid tripping over the filly still curled at his feet.

What makes you think I won't just take her?

Fell stifles the fury that erupts within him at this offense. His ears slick back, and he clenches his teeth against the beast that so wants to sink them into his sister's skin. The threat is not shocking to him; it is completely within character for the silver witch. Still, it burns his ears to hear it, because he has only one defense against it.

He knows what fate would lay in wait for little Kaeja without the leverage of the other child, and Fell is not willing to allow her to suffer it. He is willing to fight Nyimara, but if his sister decides to come after his daughter, one single fight is not enough to stop her, regardless of who comes out on top.

Fell pulls away from Nyimara, stepping over Kaeja so that the little chocolate filly is straddled between his forelegs. He pivots, keeping his eyes on the silver bay, and drops his head to grasp Kaeja's little skull in his teeth.

Not an option.

Nyimara can either accept his invitation to trade, or she can send him away with his daughter. He refuses to allow her to benefit from a third option, and though it pains him to feel the confusion and fear against his tongue, he knows it would be a kinder end than whatever his sister might orchestrate.

FELL

stallion. 16hh. black. marwari x. Rougaru x visurix.

Era: January 2010 - 13th March 2011
Player: Pirate
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Kiger Mustang x Lusitano
Colour: Silver Grullo
Height: 16.0hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Hallucinogenic is magnificently crazy and off his rocker. He is like no other character I have ever had the pleasure to read, and his insanity is perfectly played so that he is fascinating and entertaining rather than coming across as just another clichÃ© that's been done too many times. He is an amazing character who I am glad to have had the opportunity to RP with, and I will never forget him. He is utterly perfect because of his many imperfections." ~ Chaos

"I sent her away." I admitted quietly and lifted my head as she came to stand beside me and her warmth blocked out the bitter chill of the night. "She wanted her freedom and so I gave her it." I did not delve into the facts behind the exchange or even how upset I was by where she was going and who she was going to. The mad part of me wanted to sneak in the midst of the night and see to it Circe's life was rid of the infestation once and for all but there was something inside me that had changed after rising from Mika's death. I was actually caring about the bonds I had with our children and trying to find my weak guided steps toward patching up what wrongs had been made.

I leaned my silver grullo skin, darkened by the night shadows, onto her bright gold flesh and salvaged my aching soul in her warmth. Would it be so bad to let someone see everything I was from the bare scratch? If she turned and ran or treated me differently for it I would know I had been right all along. But if she didn't? Then I was in trouble. It was dangerous to make connections like this and apparently I hadn't learned my lesson because I was still standing here and thinking on what to share and what to hide. I had found the woman in Ardea's attitude and I was damned for it. The part of me that wanted to stay hidden like a cockroach in the dark preferred her to laugh and flirt and run about without taking heed to the intellectual side of things. The other part of me that was practically crying out for salvation wanted to blubber everything at her hooves.

I had stayed quiet for a good while with the hope sheâ€™d grow angry in my silence and storm off back into the Peak. Instead as soft flurries of snow delicately drifted to the earth around us she stayed by my side, waiting. My breath drug out in a labored sigh and I shifted my weight, skin brushing against skin. "To know me you have to hear a story I've never told anyone just because. - well, I don't know why. But none of this is an excuse, it just... is." It wasn't like it was a great secret. "My father fell in love with a mute mare and she changed him, made him want to be better."" My voice was flat as I retold a tale often told to me by a bitter and angry voice. "So he was, for her, whatever she wanted. They were attacked by wolves and he fended them off while she ran for safety. She returned three days later to find him with his leg torn up and infected. She was horrified so she ran away and left him." I stopped and angled my head as though trying to see if Ardea was bored or interested.

"My mother for some reason a year later fell in love with him. At that point he was back to being bitter, nasty, and he smelled pretty bad too. So who knows where the hell her mind was. Anyways jump ahead a year or so and you get a lovely baby boy." I stopped here and frowned. "He beat me constantly because I wasn't 'her' daughter, the mare he'd loved who had turned him down. My mother was too much of a coward to stop him, better me than her, right? She tried to tell me she loved him too much to defy him but whatever. I was the one constantly bruised and bloodied, not her."

"In those beatings he gave me lessons too. He knew what he was doing was fucked up, he knew his life, my mother, my life - he knew. He was sound in that sense. He showed me what love really is and that it's not always frilly and soft. Maybe in the beginning, but that's it, eventually that dies.""

"Once I left I was mauled by a rather angry mare who tried to tear my throat out and leave me for dead. I survived, obviously, and came to the Lagoon when I was probably around your age. I beat a defenseless pregnant mare to near death which is when her stallion found me and beat me to my near death, I nearly beat one of my sons to his death and I sired a lot of kids that I've never met or really cared about meeting - some of them sired through rape and others not." I tried to call off all my sins as though they were nothing, like ripping off a band-aid. Still I averted the topic about Mika...

I turned my neck to look at her, darkness settling in my blue gaze. "Are you ready to run into your Peak yet, Vulcan?" Though the words used could be a tease there was nothing indicating humor on my face or in my voice. Instead there was a sort of shameful danger over my face as I waited Ardea's judgment.

Era: March 2010 - 16th December 2015
Player: Peach
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Friesian
Colour: Black
Height: 18.0hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"There is no way to sum up Het Vuur in a few words as far as I'm concerned. He is entirely competent and the epitome of manliness without being malicious or cruel to obtain the sense of order he likes to keep. But it is Het Vuur's depth of character which makes him so appealing - to me at least. He is the powerful, witty patriarch we have all come to know and respect. He is the complex creation of a thousand different raw emotions flashing together at once as each side of his personality bears its teeth. He is the angry, not-so-little man who is driven to distraction by the women who know how to push his buttons in every sense of the words. And he is the awkward little boy: too inexperienced to talk about that which he holds closest to his heart, and too stubborn to make the effort. But that is Het Vuur, and I love him all the more for it all." ~ Chaos

Het Vuur stands, gazing calmly and confidently across his home, freshly rested from the night before and ready for whatever may come his way. It is quite something to see him so peaceful and content, especially when there is the scent of a foreign stallion on the winds. Het Vuur can easily smell him, being downwind, and the musk of this male sticks out like a sore thumb against the canopy of usual, lighter perfumes.

It has been a long time since the Arch has had an unusual male visitor, and the King relishes the thought of this meeting.

Het Vuur is positioned near the Eastern border of his home, with the craggy icebergs of the sea behind him. He gazes straight ahead, towards the Arch's western coastal border, and breathes in the cold tundra air. Spring has just begun, and the blazing light of dawn filters past his black silhouette, casting shadows in the various nooks and crannies of the otherwise flat arctic plain.

He knows that springtime will come and go, but he knows also that the sun will not rise much higher than, nor even raise the temperature more than the minimum amount to support life. Exhaling deeply, Het Vuur casts his amber eyes towards the south, where an imperious forest of giant conifers marks the end of his territory. The intruder will no doubt enter via this passage, for it is the only direct route into the Arch. He muses briefly that this stranger, whomever they may be, almost certainly does not realize just how different his home is from most other places, and he hopes they will find it difficult to cope with.

But then, Het Vuur is an arrogant bastard.

He can see Kisei, finally, and the rival stallion situates himself in almost the exact center of Het Vuur's home. There are no trees and very few shrubs to marr his vision - and from what he can tell at this distance, his rival is impressive in size and physique. It takes a lot to impress Het Vuur, for very few can match him in stature. Friesian though he is, he has always been somewhat of a freak of nature, and has henceforth liked it that way. But he is not intimidated, of course. The challenge is on, and all that matters to him now is that this match will be a true test.

He begins his approach, lumbering forward in a sweeping trot (which would be the envy of every dressage-minded human who saw him), placing each foot deliberately with a satisfying squelch in the moist, slushy moss. As he grows closer to his rival, he can see just how thickly-muscled he is; obviously he is of sturdier bloodlines than Het Vuur's own, but this could give him the edge - if only in the form of a milisecond's worth of extra swiftness on his part. In all other ways, he can see clear advantages on his side: the sun is at his back, undoubtedly shining painfully into Kisei's eyes, and, what's more, this is his home.

And where else does Het Vuur have the upper hand if not in his own home?

There is a fire in his belly as he grows ever nearer, and soon enough, pure instinct has taken over the black giant. Unable to control himself any longer, he erupts into a brisk, feather-flying canter, his nostrils flaring widely to inhale as much oxygen as possible. The stallion before him seems to grow larger with each passing second, until all at once, they are at the same level, and Het Vuur is just a few strides away. The rational side of his brain screams in premonition, and the freezing wind roars in his ears, until he shifts gears and slides abruptly to a halt.

And 'slide' he does - but he has prepared for this, in the split second of rationality that has overcome him, for all four crisp black hooves slide twelve inches or more across the soft, damp ground, landing him at just the right distance to thrust upwards in a thunderous rear. The momentum from his slide pushes him further forward, turning his rear into a full-out lunge toward Kisei's left shoulder. He bares his teeth, flashing white against a black facade, and bellows until his lungs ache.

Even if his rival lifts off the ground in a near-identical manner to avoid the blow, Het Vuur will have, with luck, at least made contact with his forearm or knee (or even his barrel, depending on which way Kisei has turned).

As his battle cry fades into the air, Het Vuur's forefeet make contact with the earth once more in an awkward thump. But, rather than pivoting to propel himself away and evade any backlash (as a fleeter-footed beast may well have done), he positions himself to remain with the sun at his back, and keeps as close to his rival as physically possible. Both are giants: neither will be physically able to make a fast getaway, and he is counting on this logic for his next act.

Leaping a single, squelching stride forward until they are parallel, he ducks down with a grunt towards Kisei's flank, and aims a sharp bite near the hock, around where the stark white of Kisei's sabino-esque pattern prevails against the black. Anticipating that his rival may mimic this action, as many battling stallions do, Het Vuur pins his ears back and ducks his head even lower, until it is nearly between his forelegs, and bucks with as much strength as he can muster, towards [what he hopes] is Kisei's face.

Granted, if Kisei has ducked his head, the offensive move will likely either miss entirely or thud dully and without much momentum, but Het Vuur has a powerful imagination, and he imagines it hitting. Hard.

It is no great issue if he misses - for even just picturing it in his angry head is almost as satisfying as sex.

HET VUUR
Ã¢â‚¬ .

html and character by peach

Era: 26th October 2009 - 10th September 2014
Player: Uforia
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Shire
Colour: Mahogany Bay
Height: 18.0hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Ikari is smooth. He is the epitome of a gentleman and he always knows the right thing to say, but there's something else about the brightness of his eyes, the way he stands, that suggests he would not easily be meddled with. He is a master of the paradox; he is imposing and cuts a hard silhouette and yet he is kind-hearted and warm and always open to the most ridiculous ideas that are thrown at him. He is an abettor to revolutionaries and yet he upholds the traditional ways of the world with a wonderfully large family who are proud to call him their own. He is passionate and well spoken and above all, it's rather possible that half of the female population of the Lost Islands are quite in love with him." ~ Chaz

Ikari knew the thing he would miss the most would be snow. The night was cool when the mahogany bay stallion left the Peak. He thought the moon was full but there was little difference between the height of day and the depth of night that he could see, given how cloudy his eyes had become in his old age. It hardly mattered anyway. The great shire walked slowly as he followed a familiar path through the Falls and contemplated his home. Not the Valley, as he might have when he was younger and had a family in the Forest, but of the Islands themselves. Even if he no longer ruled a territory or lived in one with a herd this string of tiny continents had become the place where he knew he would spend the rest of his days. He had lived for nearly twenty-two years, and when he came back to the Islands with Corinth at his side Ikari had known in the back of his mind that he would not be crossing the ocean again. Not unless he wanted his final resting place to be below the waves. Ikari sighed, and on his next inhale thought he smelled pine trees. The stallion paused and peered around him, but it was impossible to tell where exactly he was in the darkness. He had not thought he had taken the route that would lead him past any stand of pines, but how would he really know? Ikari had been away from the Islands for longer than he had been on them. Things had likely changed since he was last here. The old stallion snorted to clear his nose and breathed in again. The sharp smell of cold came in with the woody smells of oak and birch mingled with horse hormones and the night's frost, but no pine. Ikari walked on. When he finally stopped it was in the Meadow, away from the general mingling spots and almost on the border of the Commons. There were no trees nearby and the yellow grass grew tall, whispering almost to the underline of his barrel. This will do, Ikari thought. He folded his legs beneath him and settled in the grass with a deep sigh. The cold earth felt good against his belly and aching hip. For a time he thought of nothing, though eventually his mind drifted to Impazienza and his other grandchildrenâ€” the two full siblings of his granddaughter who he had yet to meet. Thoughts of them inevitably led to Kisei, but before Ikari could delve into that emotional knot he was distracted by the smell of pine again. It was stronger this time, sickly-sweet and reminiscent of the loamy Forest groves he had grazed in long ago. Ikari breathed out again and let his nose drop to rest against the earth. Soon the morning would come, bringing more frost to crisp the grass and make it crackle underfoot and add a refreshing bite of cold to every mouthful. In a few weeks the skies would turn gray and it would snow, filling the world with a cold, cold silence. Ikari sighed out another breath as his eyelids drooped and slowly closed as he remembered plowing through snowdrifts and enjoying a nice, deep roll in one of the many groves that dotted Luthien, and the shire eased fully onto his side and stretched out his neck as he recalled winter. He pushed aside the tall meadow grass with his nose and flattened a good bit more of it under his body, and when he blinked his eyes open he imagined the bright spots in his vision were fat flakes of snow come to cover him with the cold he had always cherished. "I'll go first, yeh?" he murmured, his words slurred as if he didn't have the energy to enunciate. His eyes closed again and in his mind he was a young stallion again, running through a Valley covered in snow. He imagined a mare at his side, a fully feathered black shire with eyes as dark as charcoal and a heart of banked fire, her strong legs as white as the snow that surrounded them. "Meet you there in the sky, with the others. I'll watch for you until you come home. Your brilliant star," he whispered. Ikari followed his best friend through the snow, always just a few paces short of being able to reach out and touch his lips against her hip, struggling against the thick, heavy snow that prevented him from stretching his legs fully and galloping with ease at her side. How she flew over the top of the snow was a mystery, but it was one that delighted him - she had always delighted him. He forced more speed from his legs, felt the air pumping harshly through his nostrils and down into his lungs, then back out his throat as he labored to catch up to the white and black mare. "Wait for me, Birch," he sighed. Under the stars in a far corner of the Meadow, Ikari exhaled once more and was still. ikari; stallion; twenty-two springs; shire; 18 hh; mahogany bay; nomad of the crossing
children ~~Kisei~~ [x ~~Shinkara~~] Qandor [x Caustic]	grandchildren Impazienza [~~Kisei~~ x Cecilia] Jezibelle [~~Kisei~~ x Cecilia] Rurisk [~~Kisei~~ x Cecilia] Dynalia [~~Kisei~~ x ~~Mazurka~~]	great-grandchildren Aevin [Rurisk x Nymeria] Kendry [Rurisk x Marlena] Imp [Admiral x Jezibelle]

Era: 4th December 2010 - ?
Player: Uforia
Gender: Mare
Breed: Mutt
Colour: Black Blanket
Height: 17.3hh
Lineage: Kisei x Cecilia

"I have always loved reading any post written for Impazienza and have stalked her even while not having a character involved with her! With spit-fire, strength, and resilience, Impazienza has stood out to me as an amazing character. It has been wonderful to watch her story and character develop to become what a unique being she is today. The writing is rich, you can feel what struggles she faces, and she just seems so absolutely real. There's never been another like Impazienza and I am absolutely certain there never will be." ~ Pirate

IMPAZIENZA

Impa listens, and somewhere deep within her a terrible pounding begins. It starts slow as the Prime Minister explains the state of affairs that have afflicted the islands, and the Peak, over the years. Something catches within the nearly-sightless draft, however, and she keeps losing the thread of the conversation despite its severity and the deeply personal impact it has had on the mare relaying it all to them. She feels cold, then hot, her frame filling with a restless fury that feels decades old and fresh as the face she can barely see before her.

Macabre's death pains her, too, and she latches onto that lodestone in the swirling sea of her growing fury. She recalls the young mare, adrift and uncertain but finally seeming to settle herself into the role of a Vulcan and wishes, fiercely, that she might have been here to see such strength unfold. "No doubt she was a mighty leader," she murmurs during a pause, then falls contemplatively silent as the Prime Minister continues to explain the events which have led to the influx of stallions in a primarily mare-dominated territory. Stallions had not been warmly welcomed when Impa resided here, though perhaps it had varied depending on the individual. She had never personally been keen on their company, save for a very select few - on or off the mountain.

The ugly beat becomes an unignorable pounding in her chest, in her ears, slamming even behind her eyes as she flexes her toes to remind herself she is still standing on this great green earth as Wasp comes to her conclusion. Impa is, as always, grateful for Mouse's easy presence beside her, for the grullo navigates the conversation with ease while Impa sweats and reminds herself not to grind her teeth. But there, then, in the silence, she can no longer refrain to speak. Her voice grates as it leaves her, each word strangled by how tightly she seeks to control the emotion in her tone: "Much has changed since I was a girl," she says, and feels her control fleeing with that admittance of the past.

Oh, what she would give to have born in a time such a this and not the male-dominated bullshit over which her father and men of his ilk reigned.

"A pity I'm not younger. I'd go out and give the men a run for their money," she continues, and by the time she reaches the end of her sentence her lips have curled around a snarl. All she had ever wanted, all she had ever desired in life was to have a herd of her own. To lead and protect a band of mares without the imposition of stallions; all this could have been hers, if only. "Forgive my surliness. Was a time when I thought mares were meant to lead like stallions, and my father swiftly taught me otherwise. I am.... I am happy to hear things are different now, even as I grieve my own opportunity missed. I," she continues more loudly, as if that will smooth over any awkwardness around her vulnerability, "am going to go reacquaint myself with the mountain. Thank you, Wasp, for everything. Mouse," Impa says, leaning to bump shoulders against her friend. "You coming?"

And with hardly a pause to hear the answer, Impa swings wide around Wasp (too wide, because if they touch Impa knows her unabated rage will make the innocuous brush a hearty shove as she rails against the unfairness of time) and stalks further into the territory, ears finally slanting down to bury themselves in her graying mane. Heaven help any wayward bachelor to cross this mare's path; she wears the mantle of her grandsire, now, and despite what time may have done to her body her mind is still sharp enough to cut stone.

17.3 // BLACK BLANKET // DRAFT MUTT // MARE

html made with love for uforia by peach - image by Exogenesis

Era: 25th January 2010 - 12th September 2010
Player: Pirate
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Thoroughbred
Colour: Smoky Cream Sabino
Height: 16.0hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Majestic, Serene, Accumulated.. All three can be used -- and then some! -- to describe this ardent king with immaculate accuracy. With wise blue eyes, Jareth was not only a valiant protector whose vigor alone could cause rogues who sought what was rightfully his to quake with fear, but also a loving father and companion to all who called him their king, stallion, ally, and father. On an admittedly biased note, Jareth will always serve a place in my heart as a roleplayer, for he was such an insightful and loving character." ~ Vandy

don't tell me truth hurts little girl
cause it hurts like hell

In Jareth's mind he manipulated the visions of love hanging so vibrantly in the eyes of every family member that looked upon him. Instead of seeing their warmth and comfort he saw their shock at his presence, and wished he had not left them with this lingering memory of how he appeared now. He twisted their shock into disappointment, into further proof that by the time all was said and done the only feeling that would settle was bitter anger in his final failure. Everything he had done led up to this moment and as his blue eyes washed over the figures of every one of his beloveds standing there he imagined with an ache to his heart that Residual and Revive were there as well. Jareth never forgot them, even to the very end it comforted him enough to imagine they stood there for his final goodbye (or maybe he was growing delusional in his rapidly declining state of health).

The first to come forward was Aayla, beautiful Aayla who had given him three wonderful children. Over everyone he felt as though he failed her the most, so shortly after the death of her parents he was passing and leaving her with nothing more than the other herd members of the Bay. His limbs shook violently as her voice fell like fragile gasps into the cold air, both from emotional weight and the weakness slowly seeping into his bones. He stumbled against her warm flesh, pressing his broad forehead into her tangled mess of blond hair, pale nostrils flared to drink in her very essence. He shuddered, the entire movement shaking ever spare inch of his thin body and leaned into her. "I've always loved you, Aayla, how could I not?" His voice was a brittle whisper into her golden locks, meant only for her ears and breaking from the heaviness and sorrow from the situation. "You're perfect, Aayla, perfect." He muttered in continuance, staying buried in her and drinking her scent to carry with him, comforted by the warmth of her thick carriage. "I never deserved you, but I was too greedy to let you go. I love you, I love you. You're beautiful, always beautiful." Though his words were separated by gasps where his body shook he couldn't stop what he wanted to say to her. "I am so sorry Aayla, I never wanted it to be like this." He stayed against her for a moment longer before pulling back and giving each of their children a soft nuzzle, his heart breaking to see tear stained streaks down his daughter's faces.

Just as he moved back, Tarrant approached him with his head raised and a determined look settled onto his features. Jareth felt his heart swell in pride as he watched his and Saffron's youngest son approach with the attitude of a mature stallion. He turned his neck, faintly returning the soft nudge and finding a small smile at his son's grin. He reached out and nudged him fondly one last time, his warm breath seeping out across his son's golden and white skin before pulling back. As Tarrant moved away, he caught the flash of movement as his delicate Meztli stepped forward with tears shimmering in her warm brown eyes. "Meztli," her name dropped from his lips like a plead, a plead of desperation for her to be okay and for her to not find anger in him for leaving her. His Meztli, the soft spoken woman he always wanted to grasp against himself and never let go. She was so sweet, so gentle-willed and always a mystery, their days spent simply within one another's presence would always be of the best he could carry with him to his death. She pressed herself against him and he bent his head to press himself against her, shutting out the rest of the world to only drink in her very essence. Every sob that tore through her body shook violently through his until he was trying so hard to comfort her through his own quietly muffled sobs. "Shhh, Meztli." His voice drifted gently from his lips at her tears, weak and quiet, only for her. He wanted to promise her everything would be okay, but he was afraid to break her any more where he couldn't stand to be assured she was safe. Then the three words came from her lips and Jareth felt a brush of energy rush through his tired body, his eyes widened and he pulled back slightly. His pale muzzle reached to softly lift her own up so he could look in her eyes, as a soft and disbelieving but ultimately happy smile slowly came over his lips and then in his eyes. In that moment, Jareth was not the broken and dying memory of a stallion, he was himself. The joy shone there in his blue eyes and he stepped forward quickly to bring her against him, holding her as tightly as he could manage as his thin frame shook violently with a muffled sob. "I love you." The last three words fell from his lips right before a soft crunching in the snow caused his eyes to open just as their daughter came close.

Her nose pressed against his as tears trickled from her soft eyes and he blew a hot breath of air gently in comfort toward her. "I am going to miss you, Gisli baby. You're already such a mature woman, I am so proud to call you my daughter." He spoke softly, comfortingly toward her as his blue eyes kept on her gaze. With that, the duo of his beloved women settled back and his head turned to watch Moray step up. His heart swelled doubly with pride as he brought his head up and retained a regal stance he'd always carried with him. Jareth reached out to silently return his son's touch, even if he put on nothing more than a charade of his older stance one could most certainly see the intense love and pride he held for his son within his gaze. Jareth's head tilted as a dark shape loomed near, blue gaze finding the figure of Denman, the first he had told just the night previous about his death. His head dipped in respect toward the grullo male, silently thanking him from the conversation they had the previous night. Jareth had no doubt in his mind that the hardy built stallion would do as he could to keep his promise to Jareth, if the family needed him Denman would be there.

Naturalist came, her voice strong on the cold air. Jareth smiled softly and moved a few steps through the snow toward her, stretching out his neck and brushing his muzzle softly against her skin. "This goodbye is only temporary." His words came from his lips like a soft promise, but the smile left there gave proof he wanted the temporary time to stretch out. He wanted Naturalist to live a lengthy and healthy life, he wanted her to be there to watch their beautiful children grow and live lives of their own. He reached out to brush softly against her flesh again, blowing a soft huff of warm air from his lips. "I love you, Naturalist." He stepped away to give soft nuzzles to their children, giving Totem the same reaction of respect and pride he had given to Cáel, Tarrant and Moray. Life was bittersweet for his and Naturalist's son, but Jareth believed he would be a better man for it. He reached out to give him a lasting nuzzle before turning and walking quietly past the group again. He left soft nuzzles as he went, his heart tearing to know this was it and it was time for him to leave them all behind.

But Jareth was lingering, his head lifted as his gaze poured out over the crowd looking for one face in particular. As if on some sort of unspoken queue, she appeared and his heart shattered there for her. His head lifted and his back straightened as he tried to appear nothing less than the magnificent stallion that had quietly wooed her to his side all that time ago. Regardless of the bones poking through his lackluster pale coat and the lumps and sores unnaturally distinguished here and there, Jareth took on his confident and regal stance for his Queen as she quietly made her way through the crowd. He did not walk toward her though it was taking all his restraint to not rush through the small distance between them where he could crush himself against her warm coat and wish this was nothing more than a wretched dream. As always, Saffron showed her true strength right on her sleeve and he could not help but feel an uplifting sense of pride as he watched his hardy roan Queen.

His ears trained on her voice as it tangled so softly onto the Bay air, a natural part of everything that existed here. "Anything." He said softly, his voice gentle, weaving a light thread of white vapor. "Anything you want, Saffron, my Queen, it's yours." It was a promise, even if it was a foolish one because he was hardly in a state to give her anything and follow through with it. He couldn't imagine not laying down every last breath he had in his lungs for her, he would suffer any physical pain fifty times over if it was what she asked of him. Even if Saffron begged him to live longer, foolish as he was, Jareth would try to fight nature regardless of how much weaker it made him just to see her wishes fulfilled.

He turned toward the upright base of the peak at her request, knowing she would come to his side. He waited until she was beside him, reaching out to softly press his muzzle against her skin. His head lifted and with the same presence of regality and confidence he'd always worn like a second skin he gave Moray a respectful nod, and then Denman before starting up the height of the Peak. They walked in comfortable silence, his determination to be every bit of the King he wanted his Queen to remember and know she loved causing him to keep his head high. He bit back against the bit of pain that shot through his weak body, every little stumble clouded over as though it had not happened.

But eventually his breathing was labored and lather was working out over his coat, the sores were inflamed and he felt as though he was in a fever. They came out near the top of the high peak, and as he turned in the wide flat surface he could see miles over his kingdom and the Bay below. A soft huff of air fell heavily from his lips as he watched it all quietly. "I never wanted to fail any of you, especially you, Saffron." He could not turn and look at her just yet, feeling the bubble of emotions choking him, twisting his heart and forming a harsh lump in his throat. His head dropped slightly and his voice broke on the air. "I can't say goodbye, Saffron, I can't - if I could do anything to be here for you I would. I've done nothing but fail you when you need me most." He was frustrated with the way life had twisted and broken him down for his Queen in the end. He should be strong for her, always.

He twisted his head, blue eyes resting on her in his final moments on this earth. "Forgive me Saffron, my Queen, my everything, please just forgive me."

JARETH
lead of the bay / king of tinuvel / 16hh / smoky cream sabino / eight years

Era: November 2010 - April 2012
Player: Uforia
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Shire x Clydesdale
Colour: Black
Height: 18.0hh
Lineage: Ikari x Shinkara

"I did not get to roleplay with Kisei much, but when I did he left quite the impression. In my mind he was not only the King of Luthien but the Forest itself. When I thought of that territory I didn't picture the trees, it was the black stallion that I saw instead. He seemed very quiet and confident, a rock for everyone to settle around and lead with a level mind. Though everyone makes their mistakes, it seemed Kisei always kept his family in mind and did what was best for them." ~ Frost

GLORY, PRIDE, AND BLOODSHED

Never before had the ocean presented itself as anything other than a way of passage from one place to another. Now it called to him, flirting and teasing even though he knew the moment he set foot in it the wily current beneath would be snatching at his feathery hooves and sucking at the skin of his legs. The ocean was hungry today. He could hear it in the hollow slap of the waves against the sand even though he still stood in the shelter of his Forest's trees.

"Papa!"" Dynalia gasped, her wild run slowed as she checked herself against his bulk. The shire stumbled two steps to the right and flattened his ears but did not respond. Catching her breath, the dark bay mare surveyed the roiling ocean before swinging her eyes to his face. "Papa," she said, a note of warning in her voice.

"Do not call me that," he snapped.

It was the first time in months he had directly, verbally responded to anything she'd said. Dynalia's ears lifted in shock and her mouth hung open, as if she'd been about to say more but Kisei's carefully enunciated words had driven all thoughts of speech out of her head. When he said nothing else, however, her mouth closed and she set her jaw, narrowing her eyes. The stallion ignored her. If he waited for the tide to begin to recede, it would take less time to get away from that nasty current and out into the open ocean where it did not lie quite so close to the surface.

"Kisei," she said through clenched teeth. "What are you doing?"

His eyes slid to her. "I'm going to visit my daughter." Leading with his left foreleg, Kisei emerged from the Forest and strolled down the gentle slope toward the shore.

"Kisei!" Dynalia called. She took one step away from the sheltering trees and stopped, trembling. "What about the Forest? And Wildflower?" She watched her father stride into the water. "What about me?" she shrieked.

Undeterred, Kisei felt the current clutching at his hooves and focused all of his energy on fighting it. He swam with shorter strokes than usual, and he felt a moment of panic. What if he could not get past this? He was weak from the winter. The shire refused to let the water swallow him, not now. Not when he was going to see his little girl, make up for all those lost years. He broke free of the current's twisting hold and found himself in smoother waters, and from there he struck out without another thought for the mares he'd left behind.

Her neck fully extended and her hooves planted firmly in the ground, Dynalia strained after her father, watching him bob about as he headed for another island, one that was distorted by distance. She had never left the Forest before, and her father had never been more than a loud call away. Until now. He'd abandoned them all at the worst time possible, when he was sick and his grasp on the Luthien throne was shaky at best. He was damn lucky Ilosovic and Digital Get Down were noble stallions, men who would not usurp their leader's position the moment sickness came calling.

"Papa!" she yelled, but he was no more than a speck on the water, an indistinguishable shape among the sunlight dancing on the waves.

Dynalia drew her head back and wheezed. Pinning her ears, she raced across the open ground and flung herself into the sea and after her father.

STALLION . 8 YEARS . 18 HH . SHIRE x CLYDESDALE . BLACK [EE aa] . THE FOREST . IKARI x ~~SHINKARA~~
K I S E I

HTML by Rae - image by Exogenesis

Era: 15th June 2010 - ?
Player: Pirate
Gender: Mare
Breed: Mutt
Colour: Palomino Tovero
Height: 16.0hh
Lineage: Jareth x Aayla

"I have stalked Lilura since she was born, and through all that time she has been as interesting and intriguing as ever. Watching her grow and develop as a character was extremely pleasurable and enjoyable, despite (although maybe because of) the difficulties she had to overcome. Her relationship with Rodion was one of the deepest and most meaningful I have seen for a long time, made all the more heartbreakingly beautiful because they never quite got what they wanted." ~ Chaos

sixteen hand palomino tovero [ee/aa/nCr/nT/nSb] mare.
jareth x aayla. wanderer of tinuvel
mother to Iskra [x Rodion] and Aleksei [x Rodion].
view the full image with credits HERE

Lilura holds her breath to the point that it's almost painful, denying her lungs and brain of what they need, feeling the ache turn to a burn in her chest. If she was level-headed and responsible she wouldn't subject this younger colt-stallion to stand in the frozen tundra and be subjected to her woes. But if Lilura was level-headed and responsible perhaps none of this would have happened to begin with. The illusion of being a figurehead of strength had made her blind to how weak she truly was, and now, in this brief moment of clarity she could feel the shame in what she had done and see the wrongness in it. She should have recognized his denial to love her and accepted a meager friendship. She should have been a mother to their daughter instead of obsessing over the simple fact that having her brought forth the obvious sign of his lack of love (love like she wanted, perhaps she could believe he had loved her as a friend might love another, or a brother might love a sister).

Yet Lilura had done none of that.

Her breath finally slipped from her lips in an audible sigh, her head still hanging delicately low as she watched her cloud like breath crawl from her lips and diffuse into the air. She was taken by the sudden notion to lie, to tell Kei that she had simply fought with her sibling or something frivolous that he could snicker at and assume she was simply too hard on herself. Lilura fought the chasing feeling of fear, fear that she was so horrible that even Kei would leave her by the time she was done. She almost smiled when he said he wasn't going anywhere, but she found herself incapable of smiling. Her gold and pale bangs fell over her forehead, the tips hovering over her eyes, and she drew a breath for courage. This was much more than telling a story, this was peeling a scab over a wound not quite healed, and letting the infection bleed freely until it could bleed no more.

"I was probably around your age when it started," she began with her voice soft on emotion. "My father died," years later Lilura still hadn't healed from the sudden death of her father, she had been the very epitome of a daddy's girl. "My brother Moray was given the territory and I stayed. I had always stayed with Moray, in a way he became my only connection to our father. I was still happy, the Bay was still my home, and while the family mourned and some left we still seemed okay." Her gaze faded, detached, as she plunged into memories and carried on. "But then Creature came." There was much loathing spoken when she talked of her uncle (through her mother's side only, that filth would not be related to Jareth), "and the world became dark. He basically took the Bay before Moray was even gone, my brother was struggling under responsibility, and so Moray left and Creature earned the Bay." Lilura hated remembering those days. Creature had been a vile pig of a stallion, not above rape, and bleeding with hatred that had made her lip curl. Lilura had been too happy, too carefree to understand it.

"I took my first trip from Tinuvel, and ran into him in the Meadows." Kei wouldn't know who she was talking about if she didn't say his name, but just saying it hurt, she closed her eyes against the sudden swelling of tears. "Rodion," she finally whispered, broken, remembering his stature only to remember the sight of him lying cold on the beach with red blood such a brilliant contrast against his skull. Lilura sucked in a wavering breath, knowing she had to carry on. "He became my best friend, he brought happiness back into my life, and I ran away from the Bay to the Inlet to live with him. I had never been happier." Lilura remembered those days when she had been all smiles and full of laughter, egging Rodion into a silly game where they might run about the Inlet and she would burst into giggles.

"I didn't know what love was, I just knew I was having fun. Eventually I guess I figured it out, when I got pregnant with our first child. I was so overwhelmed with happiness when I realized how much I loved him; because I was sure Rodion loved me. And then everything went wrong," it was far too late for Lilura to stop, she was reaching the ugly turn of her story, and it was necessary to keep pouring every poisoned bit from her soul, even if Kei grew so disgusted that he left or retracted his previous statements. Still there was definitely something comforting about the colt standing near her, even while she did not watch him, Lilura soaked in his physical warmth and relished simply in the fact that he was there. "I brought our daughter, Iskra to meet him. She was beautiful, gold and white like me, with a spunk and joy like I had possessed at her new age. But he...he was detached. I grew angry and left him standing there, choosing to play with our daughter instead, and I pouted much like a child would. I thought that he would feel sorry and come apologize, only, he didn't. Finally I couldn't take it anymore, so many months had passed, and I missed my only true friend."

"I went to him apologetically, telling him I simply wished to be his best friend again, and I hadn't meant to act so childish. But that could only last so long and, eventually, unable to take it anymore I told him I loved him. He told me he couldn't love me. My heart was broken, I couldn't think, I left him standing there and ran away. He left the Islands and I lurked here, in this wide frozen plain, for three years. I thought that was it, this was the way my life was going to be, I grew bitter and cold."

"And then he came back, I smelled him on the air, and my heart soared. I just had to find him again. I knew he loved me; I just had to figure out how to remind him that he did. He still told me he couldn't but I just knew he could. I thought us having a child would make him remember how good it was to have a family. How kind and happy I could be. I thought this time if I could be the perfect mother, like my mother was to me, then he would realize his mistake and remember that he loved me."

"I left him alone until I was a couple months pregnant and finally, when I worked up the courage, I came to him with the news. Of course, it didn't go as planned, Rodion denied me and finally grew angry after I grew angry as well. For the first time in our life together I yelled and him and he spoke down to me." Lilura shivered as she remembered those words, words she would and could never forget, they burned in her mind and threatened to bring the tears back to her eyes. You're just a silly little girl, aren't you? Reality is never that simple, it hurts. You think I chose this? You think I get off on watching you cry?...I couldn't care less what you look like - Don't you see? Are you so drunk on your pitiful little fantasy life that you- Lilura hadn't understood then, but she knew now, and it hurt her all the more to know. Rodion had wanted to tell her of his current relationship, of where his heart was, of why he couldn't love her. Why, Rodia, why? Her mind begged as the tears came hotly and caused her vision to blur. Why couldn't you just tell me?!

"I think..." she swallowed thickly against emotion and tried to clear her throat, but it was useless as the tears fell. "I think he felt awful, but I was so stupid, I couldn't understand. He told me I deserved more, he looked so - so torn, so sad, so angry at himself." Lilura closed her eyes and tried to forget that that was the last time she had ever seen Rodion alive, but it was no use, it was burned into her mind never to be forgotten. How she burned her only friend, her best friend, and that would hang on her conscious for as long as she was alive. Hell, how it had been her fault he had died. Gods if she could hurt any more than she did now, she would, but Lilura was in a mental pain in a league of its own. It was soul crippling, her limbs trembled slightly.

"He killed himself Kei," she whispered, so full of misery, and choked back a sob. "He killed himself and it's my entire fault, because I couldn't understand, because I couldn't see past what I wanted." Lilura shook her head, still shaking, as the deepest part of her nightmares that spawned the worst part of her heart came to light. "I found him on the beach, already gone, with his long time companion Koschei wrapped around him. Even then I didn't understand, I was horrified, and Koschei stood and screamed at me - he told me the truth - he told me what had been right before my eyes the entire time I loved Rodion." She paused and drew a breath, closing her eyes and grinding her teeth slightly before finally saying it aloud. "Rodion could not love me in the way I demanded because he already loved Koschei."

Her eyes opened and for the first time since she had begun talking she turned her neck and looked at Kei, really looked at him, and her heart weighed heavily on her chest. "If he would have just told me Kei, if he would have just shown me, I could have accepted it. Because before I wanted him to love me, I just wanted him as a friend. He was my only friend, and my greed - my wretched behavior, it ended him. It's as good as if I'd killed him myself." Lilura turned her face away, ashamed, and finally collapsed beneath the weight of her cross. Her knees burrowed into the soft snow and her air rushed from her lungs painfully on impact. "That's not all I've done," she whispered softly, chin against the cold ground and eyes becoming blank. "The child, our son, Rodion named him - when I gave birth to him he was, something was wrong. His shoulder and his leg, he was in pain, and he couldn't stand. I was horrified - but I know why, I know why he was born that way. It was my punishment from the fates, punishing me for causing Rodion's death, to not even give me a healthy child to love. My sister, Anzhelina, came upon us as I refused to help the colt and she began to nurture him. I couldn't completely abandon this child to die, but looking at him burns, it's like I see him and I am not looking at my child but at everything horrible I've ever done."

She breathed quietly, legs folded, as the cold seeped into her warm skin and the snow became slush where she rested. "See?" She said weakly, flicking her broken gaze to him, "I told you so." And then she let her gaze fall forward again and closed her eyes, but behind the pain of everything there was a small thrumming of peace, a slight relief in the fact that she had finally poured out everything she had ever done.

Era: February 2010 - 3rd April 2011
Player: Pirate
Gender: Mare
Breed: Welsh Pony (Section D)
Colour: Flaxen Liver Chestnut
Height: 14.0hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Lorikeet is a spectacular little mare with a heart bigger than the Islands themselves. She has been both a lover and a fighter, a doting mother and competent lead mare. From the very beginning she was a sprightly, happy, friendly social butterfly who delved deep into the hearts of those she encountered and refused to leave. No matter what challenges have crossed her path, she has remained essentially the same: fabulous and lovable. She will not be forgotten." ~ Chaos

The pony mare had tried to carry on without her champion. Lorikeet had believed she could be strong for their children and their family but shortly after Maximus fell it seemed souls wandered from the beautiful Thicket and left their home behind. The world was quiet as she stood in the middle of a clearing with the wind carefully picking at her straw like blond hair. Patches of her coat had fallen out to reveal dull spots of the rich liver hue and white hairs had broken out around her eyes and along her dark chin. Her back swayed low and her gold eyes were no longer as bright and excited as they used to be. They appeared dull and sunken in as she blinked slowly and released a soft breath of air. She had always been a mare to listen to her heart and ever since her King had died her heart had been telling her to go along with him. But Lorikeet had finally fought her heart and demanded she stay alive to watch their children and their family.

Yet today she stood alone.

Lorikeet blinked her eyelids over eyes that were slowly blurring with tears as her heart sunk with melancholy into her broad chest. She thought of the faces of their children and a clear tear steadily fell from her gaze and rolled off her hairy cheek. Lorikeet took two weak steps as her limbs shook and softly lowered herself to the sweet grass where the bramble and thorn bushes exploded in a fit of life behind her. She stretched her thick neck out and settled her chin against the grass while watching her heavy breaths make the blades move to and fro. It was almost hypnotizing to watch them and only hear her heavy breathing tangling along with the low wind as it brushed through the tree tops and made the leaves rattle. Again images of her many children and her lost love sprung like fire into her eyes in her own private picture show. Her heart ached heavily as it faltered in its beat and spread pain along the nerves of her body. Let go, just let go and join him. It seemed to beg her as she lie there thinking of the memories spend against his blackened hide.

Lorikeet missed his smile, his blue eyes, his warmth and his rich earthly smell. She missed the way his hot breath had tangled into her hair and his lips had brushed wayward strands. In those kisses she missed the way her chocolate skin had tingled at his touch and a yearning hunger had been left in its wake. Everything there was to miss about Maximus his Queen most certainly missed. The longer she lay there working her tired mind to remember the more her heart ached and ached with the begging to finally give up on living and join him among the stars. Her mind began to tirelessly fight back as it always did. What about her children, the Thicket, and everything she had ever lived for by Maximus's side? Her heart beat a soft and slow beat as her breath came in a sharp gasp that hurt through her entire body. Who was Lorikeet kidding these days? She was no good to her children or the Thicket as merely a ghost of a creature living in a worn down body. Her days of life were coming to a close and it was time to close those tired eyes and sleep the sleep that would carry her to the heavens and her Maximus's side.

Lorikeet could not speak, so violent were the pains in her heart and so dreary was the weariness dragging down her soul, she could not utter a single word. But in her mind she gave individual goodbyes to her beautiful children and thought of them as when they were weakly limbed foals who stumbled in their first steps. She remembered bringing them to meet their father and laughing softly in the warm ambiance of familial love as she leaned against his side and they shared the beauty of a new child together. Lastly she remembered them as they were to this day, strong and able bodied adults who had grown and matured beyond her wildest imagination. In her mind she gave a solemn goodbye to each heart she had loved with all her soul and at long last Lorikeet thought of Maximus's smile. Her own lips through the pain of an approaching death formed a small smile and her eyelids drifted closed and away from watching the peaceful world around her. At long last she was going to join her loves side up in the wispy clouds where she could smile down on her children as they lived their lives.

fourteen hand liver chestnut and flaxen welsh pony mare.
lead mare of the thorny thicket, queen of luthien and in love with Maximus
Llinos [f, xMaximus], Valiant [c, adopted], Riddle [c, xMaximus], and Devin [c, xMaximus], and Peregrine [c, x Maximus]

Era: January 2010 - 2nd March 2011
Player: Chaos
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Friesian
Colour: Black
Height: 17.0hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Maximus is definitely a character that has moved me since he was created. He is the true definition of a gentle giant without overstepping the boundaries of seeming silly or overly clichÃ©. His heart is in the hands (or hooves, if you will) of his family and when he feels pain it is expressed so clearly in his grief that the reader can feel it too. If something goes amiss, Maximus will stop at nothing to fix it. His greatest passion is in his loved ones and he is a true bleeding heart type of guy. Maximus is one of a kind and irreplaceable and in my eyes can never, ever be duplicated." ~ Pirate

They were quick to respond. Twigs were snapping and leaves were rustling before Maximus' call had even finished whistling through the trees. And as he listened intently to the sound of someone approaching, he was surprised to find that his heart was fluttering in his chest in painful anticipation. He felt the familiar tightening of his throat and the heat behind his eyes. He prayed that he would not break - that he would not fall apart until the last moment. Throughout it all, he had always been strong; he had always been there.

Now it was their turn.

Skylark was the first to emerge from the trees. She was heavy with foal, and it almost killed him right there and then to see the reminder of the child he would never meet. He watched her just as she watched him, too afraid to say anything until she did. Skylark was not the longest-residing resident in the Thicket, but she had left hoof prints on Maximus' heart. She had come to him after the loss of her father, and had stayed throughout the loss of her brother. She had bore him two (soon to be three) beautiful, perfect children. Most importantly, however, she had fallen in love and dragged him with her.

"Life." His answer was simple but explanatory. But he did not wish to discuss his impending doom. No - he wanted to make good on his promise. Maximus did not break promises, and not even death could stop him. "Meja," he said quietly, whispering hoarsely into her ear as she stroked his neck. "That's the name. I thought about it long and hard."

There was a small, wistful smile on his lips as he laid a feather-light kiss on Skylark's cheek before pulling away. She would remember.

A gentle whicker caught Maximus' attention, then, as another broke the tree line. Riddle, his eldest son, stood beside them. He was a healthy reflection of the beautiful beast his father had once been. It had been a long time since the young stallion had settled down, to Maximus' knowledge, but he had never once disappointed him.

"Riddle," he murmured, his eyes clouded with emotion as his son reached out to touch him. Maximus outstretched his own nose to brush lightly and affectionately over Riddle's crest. "I'm so proud of you, son."

It was important that he knew.

But Cheyenne Spirit stole his attentions then, and Maximus could almost feel the physical tug of his heart towards her as he watched her helplessly, trembling as she walked. He heard her whispered words and felt the tears gathering at the rims of his eyes as she wrapped herself around him. He wrapped his neck around her delicate frame, and with a pain-stricken voice he replied, "Yes." The word was cracked and drawn out, but he would not deny the fate he faced a moment longer. He would not lie to her, even in the loosest sense of the word.

Cheyenne had been one of the first to find the Thicket and call it home. Maximus remembered the day they met as though it were yesterday. She had been flighty and jumpy - scared out of her skin. At the time he had not known it, but her nervous disposition had been caused by an evil tormentor: Raashid. There had never been a chance for Maximus to enact revenge on the menace that had scarred his beloved mare, but it meant more than she could ever know to him that she had told him. Her trust was sacred. He would have died to keep it.

What hurt most was to feel that he did not have the strength to catch Cheyenne when she fell. Laila was there to support her mother, but Maximus could only feel the tears burn a silent river down his cheeks as all he could do was reach out to hold her chin up with his nose. They had been through so much together - the love and loss of a child, misfortunes and mistakes upon his part. They could not have made it without such a strong bond.

"And I, you, my love."

Maximus' gaze slid over to their eldest daughter, then, however, and he gazed in wonder at her own swollen barrel. He would never meet this grandchild, and it would never know his face. He tried not to think about that, however, as he watched Laila soothe her mother. She was their first child, and she had always been rather spirited and wild. He was proud of the woman she had become, however; a lot of his children had an adventurous streak, but in the end it did not detract from the wonderful adults they grew into.

"Look after her for me, Laila."

It was all he asked.

A quiet voice drew him from the pair, then, however, and Maximus turned to see that Falcon had joined them. Unbelievably, his dry lips parted in a wry smile and a breath choked its way past his throat in poor imitation of a chuckle.

"I know, son,"" he said, close to teasing playfully, but with deadly seriousness in his voice as he continued. "And I am, too. Always."

Next to join the gathering crowd were Aponi and Viceroy. The two had not that long ago returned and settled back into the Thicket. He had missed them greatly, but he realised now that their recent absence would be nothing compared to the yearning he would feel for all of his family from this day onwards. In the afterlife he hoped for, not a day would go by where he wouldn't think of each and every one of them. They would not be forgotten.

The mother and daughter pair spoke only one word each, but both spoke volumes. Merely Aponi's voice carrying his name was enough to make his heart twinge. He reached out to nose her cheek affectionately, trying to project strength for his family where it once been, but had now waned. Viceroy's chosen word was daddy, simply. He considered every time he was called it how very much it meant to him. He had always marvelled at the miracles each of his children were, and to be called their father was the greatest honour that had been bestowed upon him so far in this world.

"My girls," was all he said in return, reaching down to plant an adoring kiss on Viceroy's forehead and nose Aponi's neck before the crowd parted once more.

Inka moved, like a vision, along the outskirts of the sea of bodies that surrounded him - protected him. She paused on the outskirts (for what reason Maximus did not know) and gazed at him with something like defiance and stubbornness in her beautiful amber eyes. Whatever it was, he had not seen it in a long, long time. Not since the day she had first met him, under less than desirable circumstances.

Despite the horror of such a meeting, he had missed that fire in her eyes. Her true self had been absent for too long, and though he appreciated that she was only trying to please him, he did not like the thought of her working against herself in his name. Inka was a spitfire of a young mare, and Maximus had never asked her to change, only revelled in the fact that she had chosen him to look after her - regardless of how well she could look after herself without his help. She was strong and regal. Maximus both respected and adored that about her. She was different. To see her cry out in suppressed emotion was so rare that it almost startled him - even in his numb, unfeeling state.

"Inka," he said quietly, his voice dry and husky. Trembling slightly on unsteady legs, he took a few tentative steps towards her (the crowd would part for him, he knew) and offered her his nose to press it lightly and lovingly against her own for a moment. She looked angry with him, but he could only smile softly as he whispered his goodbye: "Don't change for anyone."

He retreated slowly - his movements stiff and difficult - back into the centre of his family's protective embrace. Prizm was the next to break the circle, and her gentle touch was warm and welcome; he nuzzled her tenderly, returning her affections. Her words were both touching and painful as they reached his ears. Maximus had always liked to think he looked after his family well enough - that he was their knight in shining armour when they needed him. But it also made his heart clench uncomfortably at the realisation that he was no longer the strong, glorious beast he had once been. He could no longer leap to their defence when they needed him.

He was broken - weak and vulnerable. It was their turn now.

"Thank you." It was all he could manage, but he meant each word with such earnest it leaked from his intense, sapphire-blue gaze.

Next, came an unexpected visitor. At first, Maximus was surprised by the arrival of the greying old mare he had once took in and befriended, but then warmth stole over his heart and he let a small smile light up his tired face. Her words caused his throat to close completely, however, rendering him temporarily speechless.

Confederate had always been wary of placing her trust in anyone; he knew this. Maximus had offered his own trust of friendship, but he had never expected her to return it with anything more than courtesy. Trust was extremely important to him, and it meant the world for him to have gained it from one so unwilling. Despite the pain and torture he was under right now, it did not stop his heart from swelling with delight. Tears glistening on the surface of his eyes, he could only attempt to blink them away as he nodded stiffly, thanking her silently but honestly.

Llinos came next, his darling daughter. It killed him to see her eyes so full or sadness. He felt weak as her body sagged against his, but he wrapped his neck over hers regardless and clenched his jaw at her words, doing his best not to fall apart right there and then. That was all he had ever wanted to be to her - to all of his children: a good dad.

"I love you, too, baby girl," he choked out. "You make me proud."

His final visitor at his deathbed was another of his daughters: Pandora. Tears threatened to flood him once more as she approached him, even using the adorable nickname he held for her. A small smile fluttered on his lips as he reached out to nose her cheek, trying to comfort her before he replied and her brother took her away.

"Not as much as I love all of you."

There had been one arrival especially, however, that Maximus had been dreading - even more so than the family and loved ones before her. There was one, beloved mare in his life that he could simply not leave behind. Each and every goodbye so far had been heartbreakingly difficult, but this would be the end of him. It would take every ounce of his remaining strength, and it was dwindling already. Instinctively, he knew her step better than his own; he could sense her presence before he saw her. But today he had not even noticed her on the sidelines, comforting their fellow family members as they struggled to say goodbye. And that hurt.

That hurt like a bullet through his heart and a knife through his ribs.

He was blind to everyone but those that confronted him next, but it made his throat constrict to realise he hadn't even heard his Queen's arrival until she was beside him, her touch soothing on his skin as she whispered words of wisdom and tried to calm him in his terror.

Even the strongest men, after all, are afraid of the unknown. And what is more unknown than facing death? Nobody has ever lived to describe exactly how it feels.

"Lorikeet," he breathed, his voice an unsteady stammer as the reality of death truly hit him for the first time. Tears wet his cheeks as he sobbed into her warmth. He had lived through the pains of loss many times over throughout his life, but though he had frayed around the edges and slumped in his attitude, but he had never truly broken down like this before anyone. Now here he was, in the midst of a crowd: terrified, crying and broken beyond repair. "I'm so scared. I want you by my side... when it happens."

He was not sure how long he stood there, shaking and sobbing into his Queen's shock of hair, but eventually he composed himself once more. Tears still trickled from his eyes, but they were silent now. His head was held high, though the simple effort seemed exhausting to him now. His bosom heaved with ragged breaths - a death rattle - but he took a moment to steady them. When he spoke, his voice was dry and raspy - clogged with tears. Emotion dripped from every gently-formed syllable, but he fought to keep his voice level right up until the end.

"My family," he began quietly (because each and every horse in this clearing was intrinsically connected to him in some way). It was not unlikely that those further away would have to strain to hear his hoarse voice. "I have no doubt in my mind that you have realised I am dying. It is important to me, however, that there is no doubt in your minds that I love you all. I would have gone to the ends of the Earth and back to make any one of you happy. I will never, ever forget you.

"All I ask is that you never forget this: I will always be there for you - even when I can be no longer. Wherever it is that we go when we die, I shall be there - watching over you, and I'll wait forever for you to join me. I hope that day does not come soon, for each and every one of you deserves to live long and happy lives. I can only hope that during our time together, I helped to make you as happy as you made me every day we spent together."

Thoroughly worn down - physically and emotionally - by his small speech, he fell silent. It was as though Mother Nature knew he had said all he could muster, for his strength waned soon after and he fell to his knees, then to the ground with a dull thud with an astonishing finality. Their dark knight was finally beaten.

And as he lay there, for an indefinite amount of time that his numb body could not coherently measure, he could only think how appropriate it was that he would die here - in the very clearing his extensive family had gathered in many times. The very clearing where some of his children had been born - where their lives had first bloomed into existence. How fitting.

And though, through the pain, he could not die with a smile on his lips, Maximus died with a smile on his heart.

i give my heart to a thousand people i never met
pure-bred friesian • seventeen.nought • non-fading black

Era: ? - ?
Player: Pirate
Gender: Mare
Breed: Mutt
Colour: Palomino Splash
Height: 15.2hh
Lineage: Valentine x Dock

"Ever since Oswin was born on The Lost Islands (to two other legendary characters, mind you), she's been a force to reckon with. Pirate has expertly added complexities to her personality over the years as Oswin went from being a curious filly to passionate fighter to a skilled and mature leader for the Peak. It's always been a pleasure to thread with a character so full of passion and depth like Oswin. She's such a popular character that Oswin is seemingly always involved with a handful of dramatic plots involving many characters and senses of place across the island." ~ Vinyl

Oswin had grown up in a large family among Luthien’s Prairie. She had been a rambunctious foal who’d tormented anyone in the herd who’d put up with her shenanigans long enough to not become physical. But when she was three her parents had left the islands and Oswin had chosen to remain behind. Her heart had always known it was the Peak she would go to, as she’d been obsessed by the story her mother had told her about meeting Black Heart Machine, and then later horrified by learning of what had happened to bring her older half-brother into this world and the way their mother treated him in turn. Oswin had wanted to protect the island residents from going through what her mother had gone through; she had wanted to stop someone from living a life as horrible as Nephilim’s had been.

When she lived on the Peak the first time, everything had been right. She had known it was where she belonged, and as she found herself voted into General it had only cemented the feeling. It was when her sisters pushed her to take the Prime Minister that everything sort of… faltered. Though she had initially led the Peak strongly, it was the dramatics of her wounded half-brother and his eventual death that pulled her attention away. In her absence, her sisters had fallen. She returned to the islands and struck out purposefully for Prime Minister; she had lobbied and campaigned and tried to take back the feeling she’d had before.

And she’d fallen flat on her face.

Now she was queen of the Ridge beside Tyr, slowly accepting that her days of having children were behind her, that the years ahead were far shorter than the years behind her, and she wondered if she had done enough in life. Even as queen, she felt she had not behaved adequately. If she were a proper queen she would have met with everyone who lived here; everyone Tyr brought within the borders. But she didn’t. For the first year she’d distracted herself by raising Calder, then the next she had spent raising Móirín. Now Oswin was accepting the fact that without a new child to expect in the coming spring, there were other places that needed her attention.

Atlantis was ripe with new activity, and she wasn’t certain any of it was necessarily good. Her conversation with Tyr had stuck with her, and she found herself deep in thought more often about the things she could be and should be doing.

It was because of this that the palomino and white mare found herself near the chestnut mare in the morning. Oswin glanced over her and set aside the guilt she felt at knowing nothing about her, despite the mare having lived here for some time. She nickered out toward her, seeing the mare was distracted by basking in the sunlight, then started to walk over to her.

“Hello,” she said, and hesitated for a moment before apologizing, “I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to meet with you, I’m not as used to the herd life as I thought I was.” Oswin offered a small smile before she continued, “I’m Oswin, Tyr’s-” she hesitated, then said, “queen.” No matter how long it had been, she still felt a little bit of giddiness in her belly at just acknowledging it and speaking it out loud.

When she thought she had nothing, she always had Tyr.

oswin
this is as brave as I know how to be.
I know it’s gonna hurt you, but please… be a little proud of me.

Era: August 2013 - Current
Player: Pirate
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Mutt
Colour: Dunalino Overo
Height: 15.0hh
Lineage: Narcissus x Unknown

"Ever since he was born on the Lost Islands, Psychedelic has been a formidable force on influencing the culture and community of the game. He is one of the most unique characters of his time. Pirate writes him, and his idiosyncrasies with such depth, history and context. It's been an honor and a pleasure to be involved in complicated plots with him, and to just read his posts and watch his growth as a character over time." ~ Vinyl

That was an easy enough question to answer, thought Psychedelic. The ear closest to the side Sinopa was pressed against turned toward her, listening as she spoke. â€œI wasnâ€™t born on these islands,â€ he said, and thought how best to answer her. He hadnâ€™t come from one place specifically, not a herd or a location. His entire life heâ€™d been nothing more than a nomad, no place to truly call home. â€œI lived out on the mainlands, but never in one area for long. My father wasnâ€™t built for herd life and my motherâ€¦â€ his tone dried the very minute he said it. Psychedelic had no love in his heart for either his father or mother, but out of the two he loathed his mother the most. She was pathetic. â€œWell letâ€™s just say I was separated from her at a pretty young age, thank goodness.â€ He chuckled lightly after he said it, practically rolling his eyes in exasperation as to the truth of the matter. He still remembered how sheâ€™d blubbered at his fatherâ€™s hooves, feeding into his demented thoughts on his perfection. He also remembered the day the stallion had driven her away and Narcissus had tucked tail and run, too afraid to mar his coat with any scars. Psychedelic could still hear her pathetic screeching, begging Narcissus to come back. He flicked his ears back and fought the urge to roll his eyes again.

But a new question came, this one from Tolinka. Why was he here? As Psychedelic started to think, looking past the obvious response that first came to his mind, Sinopa spoke. â€œIâ€™m never alone,â€ he said, and then blinked in surprise. He had never once told anyone about the voice that accompanied him, and it was most likely conjured up by his lonely childhood. As much as he was already loathed by most he tended to be loathed even more if he ever once spoke to the voice when he was in an actual, living beingâ€™s company. It seemed heâ€™d boxed himself in, uncertain how to explain his way out of that one. He could be stupid and make up a lie, maybe say his long dead someone or another was always in his heart. He could be even more of an idiot and say he saw ghosts and they were always thereâ€¦ but no matter what he said it wouldnâ€™t be the truth, and Psychedelic liked being accepted by these girls so much that he just couldnâ€™t help but want to see how much of himself he could expose before they went running for the hills.

Donâ€™t you even think about it. Just shut up right now, launch into a crazy story.

â€œI uhâ€¦ I have this voice in my head.â€

Shit. You actually said it.

â€œSoâ€¦ I never feel like Iâ€™m alone, you know?â€ He swallowed and shifted his legs, rubbing his skin against theirs as they stood so close together.

But what they said, concerning family, intrigued Psychedelic. His ears flicked and his eyes widened ever-so-slightly. â€œThatâ€™s why Iâ€™m here too! Well, kind of. My dad was born here at the Lagoon; this is where he grew up. His dad, my gramps Hallucinogenic, was the boss here â€˜til he died. Orâ€¦ at least we just kinda assume he died here cause he isnâ€™t here now and my dad never thought heâ€™d leave. I figured if I was going to go hang out somewhere it might as well be where the family legacy started.â€

What did he want?

You know what you wantâ€¦

Psychedelic flicked his ears back and then forward. No, he wouldnâ€™t say that out loud. To even give it voice would then put it into action and heâ€™d have no choice but to try and inevitably fail. It was best to just occasionally daydream about it and then leave it behindâ€¦ Sinopaâ€™s words made the grin return to his mouth and he chuckled lightly. â€œI donâ€™t want anything, really, but getting into some troubleâ€¦ that sounds like a good time.â€

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

Era: June 2012 - May 2015
Player: Reba
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Mutt
Colour: Palomino Roan
Height: 15.1hh
Lineage: Debonaire x Neassa

"As the lead of the Lagoon Rade not only leads a band of bachelors, but also creates plots that involve the stallions of all the islands. Everything he does one way or another has a trickle effect on everyone else on the islands. His posts are beautifully written with his deep and complicated personality and storyline." ~ Dargon

rade

"I intend to rule it, actually."

The words leap off his tongue before he can hold them back - the relief of a familiar face in this place is heady; a drug. Or perhaps it is simply that Fatale is similar to him in many ways. A kindred spirit of sorts. Whatever the reason for his inexplicable trust, it has loosened his lips far too much, thrown his careful constraint to the wind.

If his plans were to be aired openly in the Lagoon, it would give those who would oppose him too much opportunity to prevent his rise in the ranks - and Rade is certain that there are some would resist, even though the distinct lack of authority leaves the Lagoon weak and vulnerable. Right now, the bachelor herd is like a centipede whose many legs all strive to veer off in their own self-serving directions; only if they unite in a common goal can the men hope to move forward, to achieve something. But first he needed support to counter the dissent, and a show of force to prove his mettle.

Perhaps his impulsive decision to confide his intentions to the bay mare had not been a mistake. A man poking into the Lagoon's affairs would be neither overlooked nor underestimated, but a mare...

"I came for Thane. I came to make him pay, for my brother. And for my sister," he confesses in a rush of words, his amber eyes probing the depths of hers for a reaction to these words. "But I didn't find him. And then I realized...it's not revenge I want." His body has shifted unconsciously, his golden limbs carrying forward a handful of strides - toward the Lagoon, toward his home.

"I want to take whatever I desire, and consequences be damned." He growls, turning to face Fatale again. Only a hint of the warmth she had restored to him remains, though the elusive smile she had sought finally makes its appearance as he reaches out to grasp the base of her neck briefly in her teeth. To claim her, to mark her as his own - an act that is strictly forbidden in the sanctity of this meadow.

"I want to be feared, and to live without fear," the palomino stallion continues after he releases his hold on the woman, following the delicate web of veins beneath her skin with his muzzle. Tracing them to the artery in her neck, where life lingers - warm and inviting - just beneath the surface. Rade grazes his teeth across Fatale's throat, then lifts his head to expose his own to her, as vulnerable - and invincible - as he had been in the days of his youth.

"I want to be selfish," he finishes simply - all pretense cast aside, the veil of lies that typically disguises his true intentions lifted. The flaws beneath his perfection revealed. Somehow, he is certain that Fatale will understand.

They were more suited for each other than two selfish creatures had any right to be.

stallion / ten / palomino roan / arab mix / 15.1 hh

image by mischiefe @ dA

Era: 11th October 2010 - 11th September 2011
Player: Tidal & Rae
Gender: Stallions
Breed: Tersk Mutt & Tersk
Colour: Black & Gray (Black)
Height: 15.2hh & 16.0hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Rodion is a particularly interesting character to read. With him, you just know there is more than meets the eye, and itâ€™s almost as though he has an ulterior motive for even the smallest things he does. Rodion is a man that simply cannot be forgotten; despite the depressing black aura that seems to emanate all around him, he has become a figurehead to not only Tinuvel, but is a stallion that most others simply strive to be. He is perhaps one of the most fascinating characters I have ever read about and had the privilege to thread with; the detail and information provided in his posts is captivating and enthralling. Rodion is a beautiful character to follow on the sidelines as well as be involved in a thread with, and is destined to be a long remembered legend." ~ Russell

"Koschei is one of the most beautifully written characters I have ever had the privilege to interact with. I can still remember reading his first post and thinking how I simply had to have at least one thread with him. The attention to detail, the style of writing, and the emotion strung so perfectly in his posts is simply stunning. He is such a caring and compassionate soul in his own way, sort of that figure of a friend everyone wants in their life because you know when you turn to him he's going to be there for you regardless of what he's going through. It was most interesting as the reader to follow Koschei's story, for we got to see small snippets of his inner psyche that our characters did not. There were so many depths and levels to this lovely stallion that no other character could ever dare to mirror him. He will forever be one of those characters that I constantly have to go back and reread years later just to keep him alive in my heart for that one brief moment." ~ Pirate

You lay upon your back, and waited;
You dozed, and watched the night revealing
The thousand sordid images
Of which your soul was constituted;
They flickered against the ceiling.
*

Blood pounded in his ears with wet, rhythmical regularity. The world refused to stand still; vertigo welled up in his stomach like a squirm of eels. Beneath the liquid roar in his head and all the dizziness, he felt - oddly serene, as though he'd been suspended in the middle of a vast, warm ocean. He had felt this kind of peace before.

He staggered, head reeling.

Pain blossomed all at once inside his skull like an axe wound, washing over him in a single nauseating wave. He fell to one knee with a gasp then, shuddering, shakily regained his feet. A stately pine shimmered hazily in the corner of his eye, streaked with something glistening and almost black. How had it come to this? Rodion fought to remember, wading sluggishly through the thick tar of his consciousness. He squinted skyward; the sun was obscured by a thick wall of clouds. Four harsh, heavy beats echoed through his head from Before.

A moment passed. The disorientation ebbed and he sobbed out a laugh of bitter realization. The things he had said, his final, unforgivable act of cowardice, Lilura's suffering... As before, his despair had overwhelmed him; all that had prevented a fifth blow had been him nearly blacking out from the trauma.

The tree.

Rodion swallowed and stared hard at it, suddenly aware of the wet, sticky warmth suffusing his left cheek. Something had given way at the last blow; he'd felt it and, on some level, understood, but absurdly he wanted to do more. He sniffed and straightened up, turning away instead in search of the only horse left on the planet he could look in the eye. Koshenka.

It should have been simple to find him - Rodion knew the Inlet (and Koschei) better than he knew himself - but the pounding in his head would not subside and the horizon listed drunkenly from side to side. By the time Koschei's pale form at last came into view on the empty shoreline (it felt like an eternity), his own pulse had become a knife stabbing at his brain with each fluttering heartbeat.

He opened his mouth to speak but succeeded only in doubling over as the nausea peaked, his legs crumpling to the damp sand beneath him.

Koschei's heart leapt into his throat as he rushed forward. "Rodia! Rodia, what happened?"

Rodion closed his eyes with a grunt in lieu of an explanation, chuckling despite the needles in his head. "We have to stop... meeting like this, Koshenka." Was that a smirk? Even laying out on his side could not stop the world from heaving around him. Were it possible, he might simply have vomited.

"We do," Koschei replied softly, curling around the black stallion's prostrate form. Rodion lifted his head to meet his eyes; even now, Koschei seemed so calm, but Rodion knew otherwise. He always knew. The pale stallion paused, saw the blood-matted hair and raw flesh dotting his companion's temple as before. "What have you done?"

"Funniest thing, Koshenka," he said, though his cringe - half in pain, half in disgust - gave the lie to his words. "Got into an argument with that - that tree again." He leaned into the curve of Koschei's body as best he could, breathing him in as he draped his neck almost serenely across the stallion's pale shoulders. His voice darkened; if he'd been able, he might have cried. "I ruined her, Koshenka - I destroyed that girl -" Saying his name helped - it always helped - but today it did nothing to quiet the unbearable drumbeat in his head. "I should have told her the truth, that I was - akh..." Perhaps if he'd been honest with her - with all of them - none of this would ever have come to pass.

Koschei's retort fell like ice from his lips, accusing. "As if I care what happens to her."

"You always said I loved people too much."

"Yeah, and look where it's gotten you-"

"-'mudak, ty ne umryosh'. Ostanesh'sya v zhivyh." Koschei stared down at him disparagingly. Rodion's whole body burned, and as well it should: there were few places the stranger had left unscathed in his enthusiastic offense, and Rodion had done nothing to lessen his own suffering. Still, he had humor enough left in him to smile. "Slushai evo," he managed, as if thinking aloud, "Ostanus' v zhivyh, kak by -" A hot lance through his skull made him stop, confused, mid-sentence; for a moment, he'd actually been there. "I think - dumal, esli-"

They were alone again, locked in an all-too-brief embrace as though to let go was to die, Rodion's cheek hot against the familiar, tangled mass of Koschei's mane. Why had he left?

Lilura cried out again - again? - but it was agony to let go. "Blya, kto-to podhodit." Then he pulled away as though startled - and he was. "Koshenka," Rodion muttered, squinting hard now against the conflagration inside his skull. He trembled, but he wasn't cold.

"Rodia?"

"Something isn't right." Rodion swallowed. Even Koschei's infinite serenity could not conceal his mounting dread. "I don't think I'm - getting out of this one."

"Don't be so dramatic," but his voice shook.

"Stay with me, Koshenka? Like old times."

"I'm not going anywhere."

For Rodion, the world had become an indistinct and uncertain thing. His vision frayed at the edges, and wherever he looked it seemed too bright and too dark in equal measure. The pain no longer assailed him in waves; it was a constant, roaring flame now, as though something had grabbed him round the middle and sought to crush the very life from his bones. Perhaps it did. Rodion leaned back into Koschei's warmth, black against white; he wanted to escape.

"Missing home?" Koschei snorted, shaking his head. Rodion pinned his ears as though struck and relaxed them again just as quickly. Had the pale stallion not been watching (which he was, of course), the gesture might have gone unnoticed. As it were, Rodion clenched his jaw with something vacillating between irritation and amusement. "I wouldn't say that. Besides - we've moved on."

Images danced in his head like a crappy film reel; the less distinct they became (melting, he thought, in the fire devouring his brain), the more real they seemed to feel. "Your eyes,"he said suddenly.

Generally, when Rodion found himself overwhelmed by something, he retreated into the mundane, the meaningless, to protect himself. Now, for once, he fought the things that mattered with something that mattered more - perhaps more than anything else. "It was your eyes that I remembered. They were so - were so - pale, so sad - like summer rain-." He swallowed again. "They were the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. Koshenka." He entreated Koschei's gaze with almost fearful softness, in both reality and hallucination.

"...Rodia, I..." Koschei began, but whatever he'd meant to say died on his lips as he broke down, clinging desperately to the black stallion's shuddering, sweating body.

"Shhh, don't -" be like that, Rodion might have finished, but he was struggling now even to think through the near-blinding pain of a brain now swollen far beyond the limits of his skull to contain it. He was running out of - "I love you, Koshenka." He tensed for a second, swallowing a whimper. "My god, how I love you."

...time.

He looked up.

Rarely had the sky looked so bruised and angry. The clouds hung like a thick sheet from horizon to horizon, shorn smooth by constant buffets of wind (trees bowed like prairie grass before its ferocity; no doubt it raged in mythical proportions at the loftier altitudes).

Everything was so perfectly ugly.

"What is it?" They had been standing there since what passed for first light on a day like today, shoulder to shoulder, sometimes tracing the curves of each other's withers with gentle teeth. Rodion didn't know why Koschei had brought him there, but for the first time in years his vexation was tempered by a happiness of the purest sort. They'd survived; they were together, and where they were in the immeasurable Russian wilderness didn't matter anymore.

"Just wait,"" came the gray stallion's quiet, tender voice as it always did, almost swallowed by the howling wind in his ears, and he looked out at the horizon and the ever-advancing wall of clouds. What could Rodion do but obey?

And then, with the shadow of a smile tickling his lips, he saw it. A gray column of rain marched across the open plain, swallowing everything it touched without care or consideration. They stood their ground against the storm, shoulder to shoulder with laughter in their eyes, until the driving rains devoured them as well.

Brown eyes met blue. Rodion's head went limp across Koschei's neck, that contented smile lingering on his lips, and after a moment the shuddering stopped.

---

It was a beautiful day, he thought. Then why did it hurt so much?

There was no prophecy, no forewarning, no sudden ache somewhere deep inside. No, he'd been watching the sea and the wind as he often did these days; ever since... then... he'd been like this, watching the world from afar, lulled by the waves, the occasional sound of laughter and rainfall and the turn of the seasons.

No, that day everything was quiet. And then it wasn't, and Koschei's whole body felt numb.

I said you loved people too much, and yet I loved you more than that.

He'd loved his mother, and his mother was dead. He'd loved his sister and she was dead, too.

He loved Rodion, and now -

If it wasn't for the red, he thought, you might imagine he was asleep, peaceful, even, in the cold day of the inlet. Everyday was cold, of course, and he could hear the gulls somewhere, far away from beyond the sound of his heartbeat and the rush of the pulse in his ears - somewhere else, other people were gathered, and he... couldn't sleep.,,

It could have been minutes, hours or days, but Koschei wouldn't know. There was no thirst and no hunger; there was no cold, and no heat. He'd always felt too much; he knew that, of course he knew that.

Right now he felt nothing at all.

"Rodia," he said, "remember that day, when we first met?"

Oh, he was so hungry then. He'd been alone for weeks, months, who knew how long - the sun was high and he was blinded by snow, by thirst, by simple raw exhaustion. Then there was sound, and when he opened his eyes against the glare there was this - this vision, no doubt, because he hadn't seen anyone in goodness knows how long, and there he was. Out of the blue, out of the snow, he was there, all bravado and aggression and so full of life, and he was so young. They were so young.

He was so beautiful, the most beautiful thing Koschei had ever seen.

"Rodia," he said softly, and his lips brushed the familiar hollows of his lover's face. Blood smeared his lips as he did, and he noticed, he showed no signs of it. "Rodia, I can't do this without you."

He'd said that a thousand times. I can't do this without you. Funny how true these things are, how these things happen; there was the gulls crying, and snow, and the sand (why was there sand?) and the sea was so beautiful, like diamonds.

He'd tried to die before. He'd done it once or twice in the glaring sun, on the beach, with only sea and sky to bear testimony to his end. He'd never done it, because something always drew him back. There, in the beach with his lover's body draped across him, heavy and familiar but cold where it should be heat and life and passion, such passion -

"Don't leave me," but of course, he'd already left. "Please. Don't leave me, don't -" but he wasn't there. He'd already left, and Koschei felt cold like he'd never felt before, because all those times - all those times, through the plains, through ice, through snow, through storms, through death and life and rebirth - all those times, he'd been alive.

There was nothing left. There was nothing left at all.

"Finally free, my love," he said, curling his body around Rodion's, as close as he could be, so close he could pretend his lover's heartbeat would meet his and, strangely, he knew he was free now. They were free, the both of them.

He knew what he had to do. For now, however, he could only stay there between life and nothingness, and cry.

*
And when all the world came back
And the light crept up between the shutters
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters,
You had such a vision of the street
As the street hardly understands.

Era: February 28, 2018 - Current
Player: WolfieG
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Mutt
Colour: Silver Bay
Height: 16.3hh
Lineage: Hound x Lotus Flower

"WolfieG has brought an incredible character to life on these boards, one among many of her diverse cast, who has made a lasting impression across a number of characters and territories. Rougaru is complex, multi-faceted, and has been an increasingly prominent figure for many years. He has been magnificent to stalk across the boards: every post is filled with such presence, his unique voice - and the wolf behind it - driving plots with depth and filling out his character deliciously. Rougaru is both ruthless and compassionate, fiercely protective of those he considers pack and possessed of a natural competitiveness. He is a believable alpha, not a cliche, and the varied, dynamic relationships expressed within his threads, be they with his herd or his enemies (not always necessarily mutually exclusive!), have been some of the most captivating threads in TLI's history." ~ Uforia

rougaruyou must use caution, when the wolf comes knocking

Rougaru told himself he should not care for her, that she should be nothing more than a trophy that he won and tossed away. He knew when she came to Paradise that first day with her two young twins in tow that she would not be there forever. He knew at the first opportunity she would return to her pale lover and the island of snow and ice. He had been prepared then, prepared to let her return and no doubt would not have given her a second thought.

But as the days passed, and countless conversations transpired he began to realize that without even trying, she had gotten beyond the beast... she had come to know the true him. Father had always told him they would run, that they would flee at the first opportunity... at the first signs of weakness... but she had not. She saw him and accepted him.

He told himself he would not care when she went back to Liland, told himself that he would forget her and the child they would create should she chose to keep it in the Bay with her. And yet night after night it was her face that haunted his dreams and with that came a worry for her fate.

The wolf was uncomfortable here, its yellow eyes flitting to the dark trees searching for the pale stallion that lurked here. White teeth flash as gray fur bristles but Rougaru ignores it, instead it is his emerald green gaze that follows the shadows, trying as he might to make out her small build from the shadowy trees that guarded the landscape. Ears stand at attention as her call rings out, her voice sending his stone heart leaping within his lungs at the sudden nervousness at seeing her again. Would she be glad to see him? She sounded like she might but did she really or was she being polite? Did she think of him? Had Liland treated her well? The foals? So many questions taunted his thoughts now as restlessness danced his thick hooves beneath his muscular frame.

She appears. A flutter of movement. A shower of loosened rock and soil as she tumbles down the hillock causing him to start forward. Concern fills his multifaceted gaze but he cloaks it quickly behind a mask of warmth and affection as she comes to a halt before him. She was quick to remind him that she hated it when he treated her like porcelain. "Zjeena..." he murmurs, her name a purr upon his lips as she halts before him. Subconsciously he takes a step towards her, wanting to feel the warm of her skin against his own, to know she was not some manifestation of his imagination or some trick of the wisps. Even in her disheveled entrance she is still a sight to behold. Powerful, regal and yet her gaze... her gaze mirrors his own in the longing that built there.

She moves forward now, breaking the spell that the silence of the Bay built up around them. She tucks her head neatly against the curve of his neck, the place where so perfectly she seemed to fit. A contented rumble echoes in his lungs now as he bends into her, savoring the contact of their skin and relishing in the knowledge that even without words she had spoken what he had been afraid to know. That connection he felt. It was real.

For a moment he holds her close, feels the rapid beating of her heart against his breast, savors the steady rhythm of her breathing and comforts himself in knowing she is safe. For a moment he lets the silence build between them, unspoken words ring through the connection of their skin and the pulse that runs through their veins. For a moment, there is nothing else that exists save her... but even that could not last.

The sharp cry of a gull breaks the silence and not wanting to cause any more heartache or pain Rougaru forces himself to clear his throat and take a step back, to let his brilliant green eyes find her own. A small smile plays upon his whiskered lips as tentatively he stretched his muzzle forward to brush aside her unruly locks. "I have missed you." he breathes, forcing himself to keep his breathing even and slow. Affectionately he lips as her cheek, inhaling deep her sweet perfume as though he could store it away forever. He wanted to tell her he loved her. Wanted to tell her that apart of his heart belonged to her and that he needed her just as he needed his painted viper. He wanted to take her away from here, to bring her back to Paradise and continue those evening walks and the deep conversations. But he would not. This was what she wanted and where others might see him selfish, with her, he would be selfless.

A single brow arches as a mischievous grin spreads across his lips, proud head cocks to the side as he attempts to lighten the mood in as much as he could. At least she was safe. "Got them all back in tow yet? Not my cup of tea but Tinuvel suits you... but Paradise did too in case you forgot." he teases nudging her cheek again, his touch lingering for a moment longer. "I know you can handle yourself but allow me the decency to at least assure myself that you are safe. I thought it better to let you an the twins return unaccompanied back then but... well dreams can be fickle things." he adds with a light chuckle, gaze softening as his eyes meet hers. "I could not bare it if something did happen to you." the words hang between them. As close to adoration as would fall from his lips but the truth nonetheless.

lone wolf of the Desert

stallion - silver bay dapple - 16.3hh - mutt

html - dante ♠ ♥ ♣ ♦

Era: June 2011 - ?
Player: Uforia
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Mutt
Colour: Buckskin Blanket
Height: 17.3hh
Lineage: Kisei x Cecilia

"Look at him, like actually look at him. It has been a long time since I've stalked a character for the sake of reading their posts and enjoying how they grow and become a new character with age. Rurisk grows like a real person and seems like the most natural, interesting character I have seen in a long, long while. I think everyone should take a moment to read about Rurisk just to see how natural development is supposed to happen in a character." ~ Russell

"Uforia has a wonderfully creative writing style, and the way Rurisk grows and changes with the other characters is so realistic. He is a very complex personality, but he is entirely believable. To play with him is to experience what role playing is supposed to be all about." ~ Sabrina

Before I could deliver the killing blow, a fearsome weight slammed into my barrel and knocked the wind out of me. A scream rent the air as I rocked to one side and stumbled. My hoof came down hard and fast to catch myself before I could be bowled over by the force that struck me. I felt bone crunch beneath my wide toe, felt the heat of blood press against my frog and the familiar softness of the spongy flesh inside the broken skull. I'd done it. I'd killed him again, but not before he'd destroyed my daughter, my glorious little girl. I pulled my hoof out from the crushed skull beneath it, nostrils flared to the red and ears pinned against my mane as I turned to face whoever had run into me. My jaw dropped to release a breathy exhale, a whispery sigh instead of the enraged bellow I tried to force from my lungs.

An immense black horse was there, heavy and thick with fur. My heart lurched in my chest; hadn't I just killed him? How was he upright and alive? I tried to bellow again, the furiously silent scream straining in my throat, but no sound heralded my attack as I lunged at the black horse, save for the scuff of my hooves against cold, squeaky grass. I expected my chest to crush up against the black horse's own, my front hooves lifted a scant distance above the earth as I pushed my full weight against the body of the other and reached for its shoulder with my teeth. I would make the bastard bleed for what he'd done to me, for what he'd done to my daughter, and I would kill him a third time if that's what it took to keep him from hurting what was mine again.

seven // stallion // draft mutt // buckskin blanket // 17.3 hands // Uforia image and html by Sabrina

Era: January 2010 - 26th February 2011
Player: Vandy
Gender: Mare
Breed: Mustang
Colour: Bay Roan
Height: 14.0hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Saffron is a character of epic proportions you hardly see around these days. She's raw, tough, and dominant. She is exactly the sort of mare you would see in the wild leading the herd to safety and always taking the lead. She is played beautifully through her body language and it's easy to actually visualize everything she is doing. I have never seen a mare played as she is and I don't think I ever will again. She is definitely a character that is a tremendous gift to be able to thread with." ~ Pirate

She had no idea who the stallion was, and she also only just arrived to the forest, but Saffron would be damned if she wasn't going to go investigate. With a mouthful of grass, still, the roan wanders over with a weary, dark gaze.

Saffron doesn't concern herself with wither or not it's her place to defend a couple of foals that weren't hers. She does wonder, however, why a rogue would approach a couple of young girls in a territory with an obviously present stallion. Kisei was about doing business, and so naturally it came as Arsael's place to defend the herd. She was nowhere to be seen (but saffron wasn't knocking her for that, not at all. The protectors couldn't always be at every situation.) and so Saffron moves in with the same vigor and ferocity she would have if Impaziezna and Reginleif had been her own young children in such a sitation. 'Why?' some would ask. To Saffron, living in a herd, even when it was with individuals who were disliked, was like a family. And families, regardless of the circumstance take care of each other. Each herd member had an impact on the children, even if it's subconscious.

She bares down upon Stitch picking up steam and pace. Her ears flatten against her cranium in a pin. The old red matriarch makes little attempt to hide her approach. She slows only as she comes upon Stitch's person, wedging herself between the children and the stallion to increase the distance between them. Saffron says nothing as she arches her neck aggressively. As she turns herself, her body language suggests just how much of a hell of a lot of horse she really were under her scarred, red hide. For such a little mare, she certainly was a force to be reckoned with! She then delivers a full-force kick with both hooves back at him. His only options were back away, or receive a bruising blow. Saffron didn't aim anywhere specifically at him, the kick was simply in his general direction.

Era: August 2014 - Present
Player: Vinyl
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Friesian Mutt
Colour: Chestnut
Height: 15.3hh
Lineage: Rook x Evaline

"Shamwari has become a staple character for TLI. He is an overall well rounded character that shows a wide range of emotions. He reminds me of a great king; solid, statuesque and kind. He has become a great force to be reckoned with and plays many sides of the same coin without overlapping the overall feel of his character." ~ WolfieG

Was I left behind? Tell me, tell me I survived.

The chill of autumn sends a shiver down my spine. I shudder briefly in the aftermath of the bitter cold. It's a reminder of just how woefully unprepared I am for winter. Back home, Paradiso continues to try to maintain any sort of semblance of normalcy. Evaline and Vita Nova are playing along. I know they are worried. One day, I'll come to thank them for how they rallied behind me. But not today. Today, all I feel is numb and exhausted. It's Jabari whom I should be worried for, but I'm too consumed in my own fog to give him the attention he deserves. Maybe I'll come to appreciate Evaline and Vita Nova and Paradiso for hopefully filling that role, too. All I can focus on is what's in front of me now, and even that is a chore. My brain keeps bringing me back to Bri. To the memories I have of us together, to that final, fatal image of her lifeless body. It is a constant exercise to restrain my thoughts. It's tiresome. It's a battle I know I won't win. But I have to keep trying, if I ever want to pull myself out of this hellhole. So tonight, I focus on the waves. My dark, brown eyes are wide and solemn. I watch the barely visible white-churned water as it crests over itself, and laps at the damp sand near my chipped hooves. It's methodical and quiet. It's dependable, at least for now, on a calm and cool night on the Crossing Isle. I know she's there, in the distance, but I keep my eyes trained on the waves ahead of me. I only divert my gaze at the sound of her soft coos. At first they're only that, tones and pitches that are gentle in the night. As she approaches, a brilliant, illuminated being that goes so sadly unappreciated, nearly unnoticed in my current state, I realize that she is speaking in words I cannot discern. She's speaking an entirely other language. For a second I am lost in my thoughts, trying to remember if she did, in fact, speak to me on the night we had met before. I cannot remember. I should feel guilty about this, but all feeling had been robbed from me. I had nothing left to give to anybody else. Still, her voice is nice. The exotic tones, the way she flicks her tongue and twitches her lips is mesmerizing. It is comforting even, whether she means it to be or not. I lazily watch her body as she speaks to me, and approaches in vague familiarity. I nicker again, inviting her in, if she so chooses. It feels oddly assuaging being near her again. I don't want her to leave, but I'm not sure how to tell her that. I stare blankly at her as she fidgets. It seems the communication barrier is more frustrating for her in this moment. One copper-colored ear lobe flicks forward and then the other, and even my heavy cranium perks up with slight interest as I try to make out what it is that she wants. A red tail flicks across my haunches in anticipation. Then words emerge from her lips that make sense. "I wait here." I stare at her stiffly for a moment, waiting to see if others will tumble out to complete the thought. "Wait with you," she says. It drives a sudden melancholy response to the forefront of my mind. "You'll be waiting a long time then." I grumble back hoarsely, as if I don't care if she understands me or not. But I do care. This mare, whom I cannot even speak freely with, has stirred the most emotional response from me in weeks. Her kindness, her ability to register something in me is pulling desperately at something inside of me that I'm not sure I'm ready to hand over to someone else. But the fact that she waits is enough. I offer her a sheepish grin, perhaps undetected in the shadows of the dark night, before she moves closer to touch me. The velvet softness of her nose against my chest shoots a chill down my spine. And if only for a moment, I'm alive again. My barrel rises suddenly and my nostrils flare. I gasp for air as suddenly as if I were drowning. My eyes are bright, and I'm studying her curiously now. "Darshan." I repeat, in understanding. Then I arch my own neck to meet my nose at hers. I breathe in deeply, taking in her scent. She is not my Bright Eyes. She doesn't look like her, nor act like her. But like Bri, she sees me. She feels me. And she doesn't need shared words to do so. As we pull a part my attention is fully on her. I am the most alert I've been in weeks. "Shamwari." I saw aloud, hoping she will commit it to memory. "I am Shamwari."

Era: 30th January 2010 - 24th March 2011
Player: Uforia
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Akhal-Teke
Colour: Grey (Black)
Height: 15.1hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Slenderman is conniving and manipulative; he is a bachelor stallion you do not want to underestimate. A liar and a thief, Slenderman will often stop at nothing to get what he wants. He has a way of drawing others in--particularly mares and foals--with his devious charisma and ensnaring them before they realize what's going on. Slenderman's ability to prey on the weak and innocent makes him a real threat in raiding situations. His only known weakness is the Peak mare, Black Heart Machine, who often reminds him of that fact on a daily basis. Slenderman's strange allure definitely makes him one of The Lost Islands' most memorable and different characters." ~ Dash

we didn't want to kill them.

stallion. akhal-teke. dapple gray. 15.1 hh. 9 years. uforia.

so eager to get close, to touch and explore, but also swift to keep distance between them the moment he showed signs of reciprocating. how convenient for her, to be able to dance and turn and slide away from the unpleasant side of life with nary a care in the world. she was deft, clever, and all too aware of the strings he was testing with one spidery limb. she was dangerous, and she was beautiful. he coveted her, desired her, wanted her with an obsession many would be hard pressed to match, for until he had her she would have no rest knowing that slenderman was out there waiting, watching so patiently for one simple mistake.

for she would trip, and fall, and it would be the end of her. they all caved, they all fell; it was how the gray stallion had gotten as far as he did with those he played with. it was less his skill and more their eagerness to believe the words he said. this mare, though, she could see his ploy - and he didn't doubt she had a few games of her own she was eager to pull him into. but he would not join her dance. not yet. "It must be my overwhelmingly good looks," he suggested slyly, leaning forward against her as she pushed into his muscled chest. he was not some piece of nature, to be dissected and examined and marked at will. he was a living, breathing creature whose blood flowed thick, as was she. he did not strive to examine her like some sort of dead thing miraculously standing on four legs. "Girl, why is it you strike at me with your words? Come, let us go to my home and discuss this over soggy ground and dead grass. We should be friends, don't you think so?""

he stepped away from her, dancing lightly to the side of her face that was bare of forelock and mane, and nosed the part of her jaw that transitioned smoothly toward her neck. it was a tender place, soft and squishy, but slenderman kept his teeth to himself. his muzzle moved, quick as a rat, and touched the base of one ear, brushed beneath her eye before finally trailing over her soft muzzle. she had weak points, just as he did, and he sought to remind her of that fact before she took her pushing to the next level.

Era: 4th March 2020 - Present
Player: Loveinspired
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Dutch Harness Horse Mutt
Colour: Classic Champagne Dun Tobiano
Height: 17.0hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"The fact that Solomon's name became well-known throughout the islands long before he became Monarch of Tinuvel really speaks volumes. Solomon feels like such a real character, one who revels in his victories and ruminates in his regrets. Each thread of Solomon's reveals something new about him, or delves deeper into some aspect of his psyche. His relationships with each member of his herd are developed so organically and come across as unique and meaningful - a testament to Love's masterful way of writing. Solomon is the definition of a legend, and it's been a privilege to have had characters who've played a small part in his story." ~ Jessy

Peace reined across the Cove in the early morning, broken only by the smatterings of sleep-dulled conversations murmuring around him in the breaking dawn. He loved waking among his herd. Knowing that they were still there with him gave him a sense of peace that the tobiano King had found nowhere else. He watched them all quietly, his thoughts far away from the quiet morning.

The list of things that he needed to was long, and yet continued to grow unchecked the more that he realized he had missed. There was checking on Xiomara and Valka and Faolain and Rivaini. There was finding out if the rumors of Cain's loss to Rougaru held any truth, and if so, to decide if it was time for Rougaru to receive his much overdue payback. Punishing the silver brute would never bring his Cicek back, but it would bring its own sort of bitter satisfaction. Even beyond the mundane work of tending to his alliances and checking with the Ridge herd for any news of his flower girl, came the other tasks like schooling Suleiman and putting the word out about Xerxes' absence.

It was enough to keep him busy for weeks, if not months, and yet all he wanted to do was to watch over his herd from within the familiar confines of the Cove.

Movement from the edge of the clearing catches his eye and he turns towards it, expecting Lyrae perhaps, or Iscaie. Instead, it's the last mare he expects to see and his breath catches in his throat. For months he had worried over her captivity in the Lagoon, made half-mad by the possibility of abuse. He trusted Daciana to take care of herself as he always had, but he did not trust the Lagoon men or their tenacity. Even when fate had swung in his favor, allowing him to trade in the troublesome Nyimara in exchange for Daciana's eventual freedom, he still could not rest easy, for his beloved enchantress had disappeared again.

This absence was different than the last. At least in the past, he had been reassured by the occasional trails that he crossed in the Cove, or by the presence of one of their sons... but now he had nothing. Gavriel had not seen her in some time and Xerxes had left in search of her. A part of him had begun to lose hope in her ever returning, which had led to him filling her position over the herd with Golden Illusion.

To see her now was staggering, and he began to wonder if all of this - his return, his mares, his home - was all just an elaborate illusion and that death had come in the body of his enchantress to escort him to the other side. Solomon swallowed and walked toward her, unaware of his body's movement. He couldn't lift his gaze from her familiar face, afraid that if he did, she would simply vanish back into the ether.

They crash into each other like magnets, her face burying into the crook of his neck even as his crest bows to tuck over hers, using it as leverage to crush her to him. The scent of her - tinged by the ocean - fills his nostrils and he huffs it greedily, drawing lungful after lungful. Once they had come together as ambitious equals, drawn to the promise that each of them held inside, but now they were something more. There was no distance that could stop him from loving the spotted pintaloosa, nor could enough time ever pass for him to stop yearning for her.

"I thought you were-" he begins, unable to stop himself from trying to explain why he hadn't gone to find her. Why he hadn't tried harder to bring her home. But before the final syllable can escape him - dead- he falls silent, afraid that speaking it would make it true. More fiercely he curls around her, drawing her tighter against him. "I've missed you so much." Almost immediately he pulls away just enough so that he can look over her body, afraid he would find some sort of injury or scar from her time with the bachelors. "Are you hurt, enchantress?"

Stallion | Dutch Harness Horse Mutt | Champagne Grullo Tobiano | 17 Hands | The Cove

Solomon

Character & HTML by loveinspired | Image by Dirge

Era: 20th January 2010 - 3rd April 2011
Player: Pirate
Gender: Mare
Breed: American Paint Horse
Colour: Black Tobiano
Height: 15.0hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Starfish feels like a lady taken straight from a Jane Austen novel: she is charming, gentle and kind, a wonderful mother, a perfect wife and hostess, but also very strong in defense of her family and what she believes without ever losing composure. She's the proof it's possible to have a kind, considerate and sweet character without slipping into clichÃ©. Truly a legend." ~ Rae

Starfish followed him with a sweeping gaze, ears moving to any direction he moved to catch every word that came so decidedly from his lips. Koschei was a breath of fresh air for Starfish; he represented a new beginning even if she could never and would never leave her past behind her completely. She knew she would settle well with this stallion, in this home, and hopefully he would become a great and close friend to her heart - she had so few these days. The Inlet seemed to be buzzing with activity, which meant more friends for the socialite mare and therefore more happiness. She would do well here, or so she believed.

His touch was light against her skin and it brought her drifting mind back to him completely, anticipation causing her irises to brighten. Starfish was ready to share her story with a willing ear, to remember it all so she could lock them away in a figurative chest in her mind to reflect on when she was feeling nostalgic. Starfish could have warned him her story would be a long one, and to most others it would be meaningless, but she didn't and it meant everything to her. She wanted to believe Koschei truly cared and would care about everything she was and everything she had to contribute to him and his herd. She was a mare of positive outlooks but a shattered heart, a mare that helped everyone else and never once stopped to ask help for herself even when she needed it most.

"I came to the Islands when I was three. I had run away from home, it wasn't that it was a terrible home, quite the opposite! My father was taking me to neighboring stallions to find me a suitable home but they were all so boring." She chuckled lightly at this memory and gave a slight roll to her eyes. "Oh they were flashy and handsome, and we all lived at the ocean, my family was obsessed with - hence their amazing excitement when I was born with my facial marking. They thought it was a sign, though I don't know what kind of maker would send a sign in the form of a starfish." She inclined her head toward Koschei, almost as if she were cuddling up to him, to his physical warmth as she lost herself in the past and the good times. "I ran away but swam right past all the other Islands, I was such an adventurer. I ran into the Ravine and that was when I met Werewolf." Her smile was still there, but the sadness from missing him rose to her eyes and her voice held a note of sorrow as her heart tightened.

"He was different than any man I met. He was rugged and didn't prance about, hairy and didn't give care about his appearance. He was such a charmer though, and I settled in to the Ravine in a heartbeat. I fell so deeply, madly in love with him but was afraid to ever tell him." She laughed, though tears came to her eyes. "The first time I told him was when he'd come back from battle, all cut up and bruised and I couldn't hold back. Oh! If you could have seen the look on his face! He was so scared, so... awkward. I told him he didn't have to worry, I didn't need him to love me back because I was completely happy just loving him." A few tears fell from her eyes and raced down her cheek to the ground below, though the smile was still on her lips and in her gaze. Anzhelina was leaning against her side and sleeping peacefully between them both, their warmth a comforting blanket against the light chill of Tinuvel. "And I was. I was so happy."

"He would surprise me, he made me the Queen of Cimarron - I'm still so shocked to remember the day he told me. We had four beautiful children together; two years ago our last child, Vita, was born." Her smile faded completely here as her heart pinched and her voice dropped. "They day she was born was the day I found him dying. He died with my name on his lips, and for the first time in the years we were together he told me he loved me, and that he always had. I knew he had, I could see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch, but hearing it was another thing. Just like that, life took my Werewolf from me." She straightened and willed the tears to go from her eyes, feeling it was a waste to cry over him all over again - he wouldn't want her to. She fell into silence for a moment before the smallest of smiles came over her lips.

"But I couldn't afford to mourn; I told myself I didn't want to mourn him. I had our newborn daughter to raise and I didn't want her to know a life of misery. Our eldest and only son, Valo, took it the hardest - he left shortly after collapsing by his father and I haven't seen him since. It's been two years and in that time the Ravine has died, slowly collapsing in on itself without Werewolf's presence. I did my best to keep it alive but even I failed him in the end."

She fell silent for a moment as a strange feeling of peace blanketed over the pain radiating so vibrantly through her chest, dimming it ever so slightly. Then, ever the creature to smile in the face of harm, Starfish raised her head and looked toward Koschei with a small grin curling at her lips. "See, I told you I talk too much."

Black Tobiano (Ee/aa/nT)//15HH//7 years//The Inlet with Koschei, forever bound to Werewolf//Valo [xWerewolf], Amorette [xWerewolf], Vita [xWerewolf], Anzhelina [x Jareth]
text text texttalk talk talk

Era: 6th June 2010 - 15th December 2015
Player: Chaos
Gender: Mare
Breed: Friesian
Colour: Black
Height: 15.2hh
Lineage: Unknown x Unknown

"Cold and calculating are not normally the words you'd use to describe someone you admire or worship. And yet, on the surface of things, Sterre is exactly that: a conniving, sarcastic spitfire of a mare. But what makes her so amazing and appealing as a character is that these traits provide a gateway with which to shed light on that more vulnerable, secretive side of her that is so rarely glimpsed. She is strong, she is smart, she is sexy, she is funny, and yet she is so believable. Every single one of her posts is a work of art, each a small homage to the masterpiece that is this complex and intelligently-written character. And still she continues to surprise me, with new and startling depths of her personality being revealed with each detail of her narrative. I am so grateful, and so lucky to have roleplayed with Sterre. She is simply unforgettable." ~ Peach

Sterre's heart thumped loudly in her chest as her words hung in the cool, frigid air. She had spoken without fully knowing what to expect in return, but she yearned to hear exactly what Het Vuur would say. She was unconcerned with everything else - the threat of a kick that she knew he would never carry out, the tilt of his head as he strained to look at her.

Het Vuur pulled away from her, then, and she sought out his amber gaze and held it firmly, her body electrified with expectation and suspense. But Sterre forced a poker face onto her features. His gaze was as intense as her own, their hard eyes speaking volumes their curt voices could never reach. The way he stomped his hoof and scolded her like she was a little child - she loved it. It made the corners of her lips turn up in amusement, a hint of something else glittering in her dark eyes.

In a strange way, it meant a lot to Sterre to be acknowledged as the infuriating mare she was and had never denied being. But it meant even more to her that she knew Het was fully aware of the woman she was, and yet he'd never turned her away. Not that he could get rid of her so easily, but the fact remained that he'd never tried. They had the power to push each other's buttons in the most irritating and sensual ways. They knew each other so well without having to say a word. They had something - a connection. It was undeniable, but they both refused to admit it out loud to each other.

It was funny, how similar they really were. How their coinciding personalities seemed to be two parts of a whole.

But Sterre listened silently to his second monologue of this conversation. Her ears were pricked in attention, her gaze never once wavering from his as she stood proudly before him, but she did not interrupt. Not until he'd finished his speech firmly did she open her mouth, her heart still fluttering annoyingly against her ribcage. She found that she didn't need him to say it. His rambling, the only tell he had that she knew of, said it all, despite the long, vague string of words he had used to dance around the question.

"Who said there was nothing in it for you, Hetty?" she asked imploringly, batting her long eyelashes once as she continued to gaze into his fiery eyes. "This is not a waste of time," she stated firmly, tilting her head to one side, her expression still deceivingly innocent as she spoke her next words with deadly precision. "And you will not refer to it as such ever again."

There was no need to define what 'this' was. Not now. Maybe someday, but for now this was enough.

Sterre cleared the distance between them in one swift stride, and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. It was so fleeting and gentle, so unlike her, that it could have been mistaken for no more than a mere accidental brush of her lips against his warm skin had her approach not been so definite and decisive. A grin flitted across her lips as she turned away.

And then she was gone. She was no longer unsure.

she's a knife
SHARP AND DEADLY

Era: ? - ?
Player: Dash
Gender: Mare
Breed: Akhal-Teke
Colour: Black
Height: 15.2hh
Lineage: Slenderman x Black Heart Machine

"Valve is a character who is alarming in her intensity in-game but absolutely delightful to follow as she tends to her business across the boards. Unpredictable but concise, she enriches each interaction with her self-assured bearing and uncompromising ambition. This is a character capable of being involved in multiple plots with multiple players and handling the delicate threads of each with a chilling competence. With never a wasted word or action, Valve is by far one of the most capable politicians the Lost Islands have ever seen, never hesitating to pull the strings behind assassination plots or conspire as an usurper to further her own ends." ~ Uforia

Valve made the decision to bring Gabbar back to the Dunes because there was a chance that the Arabian dwelling there was the very same one he sought. For Valve, it was an opportunity worth capitalizing on regardless of the result. She had not expected that the bay stud would engage either Olaf or Bloodmane in a territorial dispute, but when Gabbar's wide grin stretched across his lips with devilish delight, Valve's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. It was much more befitting to have the pair of them control this sandy space. Watching these beasts of muddled blood tromp around the Dunes caused her a formidable amount of disgust. She was an outcast among them - a literal and proverbial dark horse. In her mind, the act of betrayal that they perceived was instead an act of empowerment. Valve did not take kindly to being dismissed by inferiors, and thus they would pay.

She watched as Gabbar left her side and descended the small dune, meeting Olaf by the river with a war bugle followed by the clashing of hooves and teeth. Flicking her dark tail to and fro, catlike and calculating, Valve chose the ideal moment to gallop toward them like a gleaming black flash in the desert sun. Undoubtedly Olaf would notice her initial sudden movement down the dune, so Valve took care to position herself far enough away from him that it would only be possible to see her coming if his head was raised. When Olaf's head dipped to push on Gabbar's left side, Valve made her move.

The black mare surged forward from behind Gabbar, properly aligning herself for her first attack and closing the gap between her and Olaf with increasing speed. By the time she was within striking distance of the opposing stallion, her companion was in prime position to lunge and give way without compromising the tactical advantage of having Olaf between them and the rushing river. As the smoky black mongrel pawed the wet sand, Valve - still hurling forward at a full gallop - used the great momentum she had acquired to attempt ramming her shoulder into Olaf's ribs. While she was no match for the stallion in terms of girth, Valve hoped that both her speed and the element of surprise would ensure success. With so little time for him to brace against what impact would perhaps occur, her hope was that at best, Olaf might fall, though sidestepping into the river was still a possibility depending on his balance. Of course, if the notion of slamming into him as forcefully as she planned did occur, Valve would risk experiencing a great deal of pain as well. However, such an injury would be a small price to pay if she were successful at driving some part of her enemy into the water.

In lieu of another attack, Valve took a moment to collect herself on the riverbank. Her nostrils flared as she breathed rapidly from the great burst of speed she had displayed. With her ears flat against her skull, her eyes stayed locked on Olaf, assessing the situation while the adrenaline coursing through her veins helped distract from her own condition.

"Piç,"" she hissed, taunting him.

VALVE
slenderman x black heart machine

Era: April 2013 - November 2020
Player: Tay
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Mutt
Colour: Grey Overo (Smoky Black)
Height: 16.0hh
Lineage: Devil's Retribution x Sojourner

"Favorite quote: "I will break you, Just wait" - Warsaw to Nova

Warsaw is the epitome of ruthlessness. He by far is one of the best "evil" characters that TLI has ever seen. He had a way of making you love to hate him. He is fiercely loyal to those that he deems worthy of his friendship and is willing to go to whatever lengths necessary to gain notoriety for himself and the "kingdom" he hoped to build. Warsaw has always been a constant source of muse whenever I struggled and always had some sort of plot or plan in place to drum up muse not just for those directly involved with him but for the rest of TLI as well. Thank you Warsaw." ~ WolfieG

Post here.

Era: ? - Current
Player: Pirate
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Mutt
Colour: Cremello Splash Snowcap
Height: 15.3hh
Lineage: Nephilim x Aubrey

Zevulun has ingrained himself in the hearts of many. You cannot help but want happiness for him, but his story is often one of heartache. He feels deeply, and you will too reading from his perspective. He is relatable in his flaws. I’ve never met a character so heartbreakingly stubborn and yet so loveable. The Islands are forever marked by this wonderful character. ~ Feral

Zevulun has been a character I’ve watched since I came here. The way he always tries to do what’s right and having it go so, so wrong at times has, to me, really embodied what it means to be “human.” He’s learned from some mistakes while unintentionally making more along the way. He’s loved deeply and learned that even good intentions can go egregiously wrong. Zevulun has had so many roles on the islands so far: son, brother, father, lover, friend, ally, enemy. Yet still he finds new ways to grow, to surprise, to humor, to love, and to persevere with his mortal struggle despite the odds. It’s really been an honor to play any small part in his story. ~ Senshine

my bones are safe and my heart can rest

knowing it belongs to you

Hover for text

You aren’t anything to me. You’re nothing.

The pain rippled across his face and Zevulun drew a step back the moment their daughter pushed a step forward, like the distance between them was something tangible. The water churned at his sudden movement backward and Zevulun watched his daughter quietly, trying to keep the heartbreak from his eyes. He failed, of course, because Zevulun had never quite mastered his emotions or masking them as he should do. It took conscious effort for him to hide how he felt, and at that moment he was unable to.

Then, Riesling began to speak. Zevulun’s eyes drew instantly to her, pink-lined ears flicking forward. The Riesling in front of him scares him more than all her rage-filled glares and snapping jaws might have. The sorrow he saw written over her struck him down smaller than he’d ever felt; the breath was ripped out of his very lungs and he was so still, he didn’t realize he hadn’t moved to draw more air in.

...we can’t keep doing this, Zevulun. I can’t keep doing this.

He’d had these same thoughts himself, but somehow they broke him to hear coming from Riesling. The pain in her voice tore him asunder, but it was what she wore across her face that was his undoing. His knees felt weak and he stumbled another step back, pulling himself physically further away.

Just like that, Riesling tossed her head and the stare that met his wide-eyed one was hard; firm. I’ve given you leave to hurt me too many times; for the sake of our children, for the sake of…whatever this was. But our children are grown and I will not spare you again.

Zevulun had always known he was a fool; he’d be the first to openly admit it. He leaned too hard into the way he felt about those he loved that he threw aside any of their feelings and assumed they had to feel the same way about him. He had been so sure there were moments between he and Riesling that spoke of her softening to him, he had never considered the fact that she might still hate him for the way they’d first met. For Zevulun, it had been a misunderstanding. He hadn’t even realized it was something that could possibly be thought of until Riesling confessed it, and he and Balor fought over it. Afterwards, as he confessed he had no intention or idea, that he had been stupid enough to think Riesling wanted him, was attracted to him as he was her…

He had never stopped to consider how long she had lived with that idea of him. With that idea of the world and her place in it and the things she had to do to survive. He had thought as soon as it was realized to be a misunderstanding it was far, far in the past… because he never wanted to think of it, or to think of someone thinking his love was anything other than the desperate, needing thing that bled so desperately and so profusely from his heart.

Zevulun’s expression changed from horror, to grief, to understanding. He nodded once and drew another step back into the sea, letting it swirl around his knees, now. “You’re right,” he agreed, voice just loud enough for her to hear it over their growing distance. His eyes met hers and even though he wanted to repeat the words - I’m sorry - he held his tongue. Instead, he looked at Gris, at the fierceness written across her face.

He smiled, though it was still quite sad.

He was happy that even though he had caused Riesling so much pain, he had at least had part in giving her this daughter. This girl who was as tough as her, who’d fight the world to survive and succeed no matter the odds. Who’d charge her own sire back into the sea to protect her mother. He would always regret never knowing her, but a sense of finality was coming over him as he looked at mother and daughter, and knew he would likely never see them again.

Or, even if he did, there would always be this - this gap between them.

Zevulun nodded again and turned, walking into the sea and not looking back, giving Riesling what she requested and wishing he’d done everything differently when he’d first arrived back to the islands.

17 yrs - stallion - 15.3hh - cremello splash snowcap - Lead of the Prairie

Image by black-tears696 - Character by Pirate - HTML by love

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Muse (October 2021)

"An overall lovely human, always fun to talk to in the chat, and has some great characters." ~ Pippa

"Muse writes beautiful, emotional posts that keep me coming back to read them again long after I've already replied. Her characters are engaging and well-written, and I love seeing them grow through each new storyline. She's easy to talk to, and has amazing ideas for new plots and progressions for our characters. I have very much enjoyed my time writing with her and look forward to many more stories to come." ~ Loveinspired

Loveinspired (January 2021)

"She has been active and really has been supporting people behind the scenes. More than being just a good player, she has been an amazing human being, making TLI feel more and more like a safe place and a comfy home." ~ Dargon

"Love plays her characters with such depth, emotion, and realistic growth that I find my own drawn into and entangled with their stories. She's also a wonderfully kind person, and fun to chat with OOC!" ~ Reba

"Love's boundless kindness, patience, and generosity really stick out to me. She has an amazing talent for writing characters that people gravitate toward, and because of this plays many influential characters on TLI, but, far from making them exclusive to larger plots, she often goes out of her way to play with new players and characters. Her inclusivity, beautiful writing, and elegant but accessible character progression make her a joy to play with and to read, and her lovely personality and chill nature make her so easy and delightful to talk to out of character. Truly a person I'm proud to know and always eager to play with." ~ Dirge

Erin (April 2020)

"My nominee is Erin. She is so kind to everyone as a person and her characters are all extremely active and a blast to rp with." ~ WolfieG

"She was one of the first people I roleplayed with that really went out of her way to make me feel welcome and answer my questions when I was new. Additionally, her writing always makes it so easy for me to reply because she does such a wonderful job." ~ Loveinspired

"I would love to nominate Erin as our featured member! She is such a kind and generous soul and her posts are an absolute joy to read. She never fails to bring a smile to my face and I don't know where I would be without her." ~ Kai

Pippa (February 2018)

"Pippa is always very bright and bubbly and just such a pleasure to write with. She's always around on the Discord channel to chat with about anything and everything! Pippa comes to the table with amazing, fun plots and is always ready for a thread. Her activity, her level of interest in the site, her spread of diverse and intriguing characters and her overall kindness makes her an amazing member who I always enjoy interacting with." ~ Pirate

Erin (November 2017)

"Erin is a ray of sunshine, and one of the kindest players I've ever met. It's a joy to have her on the site. Plus her characters are wonderful, and she continually makes an effort to be involved with other players and in the goings-on of TLI." ~ Peach

Sabrina (July 2016)

"She is always open for a plot and seems to tend to love to add plot twists! Her writing style is fantastic and a pleasure to read. With each post she is able to give each of her characters a different voice and different feel!" ~ Dargon

Frost (March 2015)

"Frost is a valued member of the TLI community and is an absolute delight to thread with. Her characters are diverse and well written, their personalities solid but still easy and fun to read. Frost is an active member who is quick to reply and is also very friendly, making her a respected part of TLI." ~ Leigh

Pirate (October 2014)

"Since Pirate's return to TLI, she has had a huge presence as an outstandingly active and friendly member. We commend her for her hard work and for the delightful presence of her engaging characters, both new and old." ~ Peach

Vinyl (September 2014)

"Vinyl has been a strong presence since her return to TLI. She has been incredibly active, friendly, and inclusive of other players. May she keep up the good work!" ~ Peach

Erin (August 2014)

"Erin has simply been a joy since she joined TLI. She has been friendly, helpful, active, and her characters are wonderful." ~ Peach

Pippa (July 2014)

"Pippa is frequently on the Chat Box, whether she's simply chatting with anyone on or creating plots and plans to thread. She keeps her characters active and they are easy to find on multiple boards." ~ Bix

Polecat (June 2014)

"Polecat is consistently active and posts with a wide variety of members - anywhere her muse takes her, really, which is everywhere and with anyone." ~ Uforia

Six Sable (May 2014)

"Six is consistently active and roleplays with a wide variety of people, both valued traits of any member on a roleplay." ~ Uforia

Frost (April 2014)

"She is extremely creative in her posts and plots and replies in good time. She's a good judge of character." ~ Onyx

Blushie (March 2014)

"Blushie is friendly, inviting, and very involved both in game and out of character on the Lost Islands. Her level of activity in game is enormous, and threads with her are often fast paced and fun. She also frequents the OOC board, welcoming new players and socializing with the old at almost any hour of the day." ~ Uforia

Bix (February 2014)

"Bix is a fantastic and important member of the TLI community. She is always friendly and eager to offer her help wherever she can, be it by getting involved with a wide variety of plots or by lending a hand to OOC matters. Over time I have watched her writing improve greatly and become a real pleasure to read, and I am thrilled to have had the opportunity to RP with her." ~ Chaos

Wall of Legends

Table of Contents

Featured Characters

Anath

Anemone

Balthazar

Bellum

Black Heart Machine

Dia

El Aran

El Barroco

Evaline

Fell

Hallucinogenic

Het Vuur

Ikari

Impazienza

Jareth

Kisei

Lilura

Lorikeet

Maximus

Oswin

Psychedelic

Rade

Rodion & Koschei

Rougaru

Rurisk

Saffron

Shamwari

Slenderman