Wheeling Gull Isle the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking

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Atlan rages. The storm They have summoned blocks out the horizon engulfing everything in Their fury. The leviathan of the seas does not bother to try to re-find the sandbar he has crossed to get here before the storm has risen because he knows it will not be there and if, by some miracle, it is Atlan would sweep away any who dared to try to reach the mainland into Their depths, claiming the lives for Their own. The shaman has been unsettled for day previous to his deity’s wrath. He lingers on the shore, bracing sturdy shoulders against the fierce wind that whips viciously through his fur, pressing against him the way the sea presses against rock and land: unyielding. Atlan lashes out at Their warrior shaman but Axolotl weathers it. This is not his first ride with Atlan’s unprecedented ire and the leviathan has no illusions that it will be his last. Last he was aware he was alone on the Isle but his focus has been solely on Atlan and he has neglected any whom have possibly joined him prior to the hurricane. He alone cannot placate the God and accepts that all that can be done is wait it out.

He scours the shore for any that might have washed up now knowing that his job is far from done. Atlan is in full rage but that does not mean that Axolotl can simply cower under shelter until Their mood has ran it’s course. “Atlan,” Axolotl calls to the sea, voice drowning in the violent crash of waves. The Sea roars in response, tossing a violent wave upon the shore that crashes around Axolotl, threatening to knock him off balance. Leave me be!, the waves seems to scream at the shaman and there is a defiant glint to the leviathan’s glacial gaze he concedes to the mighty deity’s wishes. There is little chance of scenting any other wolves, any survivors. He sees their silhouettes over the pounding of the rain. He recognizes Komodo the closer he gets. “Earthstalker,” Now is not time for a reunion, however. “It is not safe to linger here. There is elevated ground and fresh water further inland. It offers some shelter to the rains. It is as ...safe a place as any.” Axolotl's voice rises above the scream of the Sea, against the violent crash of the waves to be heard. The Atlanian is not of the medicinal sort of shaman but the Sea is his domain and he knows enough to be of aid. The longer they lingered upon the beach the higher the chances are that some would be swept back out to sea never to resurface. Atlan rarely offered mercy a second time. While elevated land of the Isle does not fully promise safety from the hurricane it is the only chance they have and it the best they will get; beggars could not afford to be choosers.

He takes note of @Constantine as the male retches up saltwater and makes his way towards the other. “Can you walk?” Axolotl inquires of him, able bodied and fortunate enough to have been on the Isle before the hurricane took shape. It is a small fortune and it works to his advantage now as he strives to help the survivors that Atlan has spit ashore in any way that he can.

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