Pro Bono Publico (open/hurricane)
Jan 25, 2015 15:40:26 GMT -5
Post by Peregrine on Jan 25, 2015 15:40:26 GMT -5
With the coming of a hurricane, most would seek shelter. Others, for various reasons, would not or could not. Tzafar had experienced a storm of this size before; it was almost liberating, out beneath the brunt of nature’s fury. It was the only fury she felt could finally break her. But it was only a modicum of self-destruction that drove her. In its place, construction. This was a chance to build up Tempest, in regards to self and in regards to their appearance to others. Tzafar had never been one for haphazard devastation, perhaps contrary to the beliefs of some; while she certainly perpetrated annihilation of some manner and would continue to do so, there were some kinds that she did not see the need for unnecessary excess. Some could not take the assault of the storm; those were the ones that she would help. And through this, she would train up herself and her small squad in the face of it, so that they would not be the ones caught in any kind of storm.
The Commandant took their small group of canines who had shown initiative up to the mountains, where some might seek refuge. They would not find it, and so a different sort of Tempest would save them from it. They’d been travelling for hours, going as hard as they could against the rain. When the more civilized portions of the city fell away for wilderness, they continued. They travelled farther inland as they went, but the storm’s fury would not be assuaged even by distance. The water came down from the heavens like nails, and the wind their hammer, as it buffeted violently against the three forms. Their path increased in altitude, until even they surpassed the thick cover of trees. There was one place that Tzafar sought, a place that was as deceptive as the Devil it was named for.
When they did come upon the Devil’s Breach, it was as Tzafar expected: the bottom had sufficiently flooded, and the water would continue to rise without cease. Any who had sought shelter within the liar’s rocky embrace would find death, or something close and worse. The Kangal regarded it grimly, turning a look to her two companions. ”Search along the edges!” She spoke above the torrent, against the gale that might steal away her voice. ”Shout if you find any survivors,” she turned, and carried on at a brisk lope, occasionally turning her muzzle up to release a mighty bay, crying out for anyone who might have remained near the crack in the earth, to let them know that someone was there and had come to their aid.
Open, after Rosalina and @rebellion post!
FLASHMOB;, WARDOG