Ankyra Sound an anteater named antonio

This thread takes place on DECEMBER 31, 2018. Sorry it took so long; I’ve had pneumonia. If a pack manager wants to, for threadlog purposes, feel free to edit my post before archiving to set the correct date. According to my calculator, Rusalka will receive a positive event of 2/6 severity, and a random predator. Control of all the things belongs to the pack managers, so feel free to ignore this if you don’t wanna participate. ^^

The tempest utters a litany of banshee screams, flinging wings of water against the cliffs and churning up the shoreline. It is a tantrum like no other, and her stormhounds peel back their lips and worry at the terrain, snapping up tree and bracken, moss and lichen. Icefang-ridden gusts are hurled at each small, forlorn figure that trespasses the coast, and with her serpentine hands she charms the sea into frothing tendrils of snaking currents. Her howling rises to a screaming roar as she reaches the apex of her fury, hurling bolts of lightning and gripping the stone with roiling snarls of thunder. It is only midday, but she blackens the sky with a clotted bruise of vantablack, blotting out the sun so that the only light is hers.

She tries to yank the Blackpine trees up by their roots but does not stop to measure her success or failure. Despite herself, she fills anew the stores of Rusalka with fish and treasure from the sea, unintentionally aiding the very pests she hopes to eradicate — but this time, her generosity is even greater: a Stellar sea lion of impressive size, weighing in at approximately fifteen hundred pounds (or six hundred eighty kilograms), is washed ashore, dead as a doornail and relatively fresh. The rents in his hide tell a story that the narrator is too lazy to construct (because she has a few more of these posts to write) but you can make it up whichever way you like.

In the cleft of space where the Sound meets Drageda’s cliffs, the winterstorm’s tantrum has flushed a cougar from its sleeping place. It descends like a shadow into the territory, but whether or not it will make contact with the Rusalka wolves is yet unknown.

posted by coelacanth.

a winter squall arrived to tear with a child's headiness through rusalka. unable to sleep, the wounded harlot watched grimly its path, shadows falling across the sound as the storm-crone writhed in powerful command of the sea and the land. debris ripped down by invisible lances began to cascade to earth; the tall pines were clawed, boughs snapping audibly against the teeth of the dirge.
erzulie, teeth bared, held back from this, seeking instead the dunes upon the beachhead, now wet with the ocean's own lashings. as before, fish came to gasp out their deaths upon the sand, and she moved gingerly among them toward a much larger shape further along the shoreline.
hunger clawed at erzulie; her wounds had stiffened further, and though she knew it was part of healing, she feared starvation among the more wounded creatures of rusalka before it was over. perhaps she had nothing to fear; she circled the broad, torn bulk of the seabeast quietly, its blood bringing her tongue to bathe the outside of her jaws.
above the jezebel, the storm cried onward.

the storm that howled through rusalka gnashed its teeth against their forest and sea, bringing ruin with it. caiaphas had ordered most to the grotto, where its clawing breeze was deafened by immovable stone walls -- but above, the world and sea raged.

emerging from the dark keep, the sylph followed erzulie's tracks, noticing the sundered strand and the many interlacing trees, face down and uprooted from where they had stood sentinel for years beyond reckoning. her attention was drawn to a shape on the strand, and as she limped towards it, her eyes widened with hungry surprise. 

the storm was unfortunate -- but the bounty it brought with them was not. the downed bull was enough to feed their wounded for weeks -- throwing her head back, caiaphas howled for all to come and eat their fill before they secured it in their caches.