43 ~ Onslaught...
The onslaught of the Uracan came during the night. Without a moon or stars in sight, everything was pitch black. Compounding the darkness is the unsettling feeling of dread and helplessness which is about to consume the hearts and psyche of those who will live through the ordeal.
Initially, there was precarious lull followed by a long spectacular display of lightning and blinding rain signalling the arrival of the Uracan which stirred the various aves and chiropters from their slumber in search of a safe refuge. Those who did not manage to escape through the portal are bound to experience hours of extreme uncertainty on whether they will survive and live to tell their story or face a gruesome death.
In the midst of the tempest, nothing is safe.
The portal has shut its doors as the elder elementals of Sidlakan spent their last remaining ounce of energy leaving them at the disposal of the elements. There is a pervading sense of dread as the smell of sea aerosols fill the air brought upon by the churning waves.
Winds gradually increasing in intensity to strong gusts ruffle the tree branches as the trees try to hold their ground amidst their persistent adversary. Branches are being severed. The leaves torn apart. Moved and twisted about, only the sturdy stands, the rest will fall down as their roots will hold no longer. Grasses an shrubberies are pressed on the ground against their own freewill. The tempest will continue to torment and wail it way to destruction.
As rain continue to fall its way to the earth, it becomes waterlogged. Those that thrive on or near the ground are in danger with the rising flood levels as water finds its way from the Frohorq Summit and the Fuyhn Highlands to low lying areas.
Nothing stands in the way of the Uracan, even the ancient Viradjan is at risk of being toppled down.
In the midst of the pounding and wailing sounds of by the howler, a sinister laughter is heard. The tempestad is savoring every minute of its onslaught. Near the eye of the storm, everything becomes dispirited. It seems as if life is simply hanging by a thread. Everything you perceive to be will change.
In the thick of the ruination, the great Elders can only hope for the onslaught's end. But the Viradjan will not escape unscathed...
In the midst of the tempest, nothing is safe.
The portal has shut its doors as the elder elementals of Sidlakan spent their last remaining ounce of energy leaving them at the disposal of the elements. There is a pervading sense of dread as the smell of sea aerosols fill the air brought upon by the churning waves.
Winds gradually increasing in intensity to strong gusts ruffle the tree branches as the trees try to hold their ground amidst their persistent adversary. Branches are being severed. The leaves torn apart. Moved and twisted about, only the sturdy stands, the rest will fall down as their roots will hold no longer. Grasses an shrubberies are pressed on the ground against their own freewill. The tempest will continue to torment and wail it way to destruction.
As rain continue to fall its way to the earth, it becomes waterlogged. Those that thrive on or near the ground are in danger with the rising flood levels as water finds its way from the Frohorq Summit and the Fuyhn Highlands to low lying areas.
Nothing stands in the way of the Uracan, even the ancient Viradjan is at risk of being toppled down.
In the midst of the pounding and wailing sounds of by the howler, a sinister laughter is heard. The tempestad is savoring every minute of its onslaught. Near the eye of the storm, everything becomes dispirited. It seems as if life is simply hanging by a thread. Everything you perceive to be will change.
In the thick of the ruination, the great Elders can only hope for the onslaught's end. But the Viradjan will not escape unscathed...
Comments