WHERE THE CROWS LIE. | TREMORS | OPEN RESCUE THREAD

[BLOODHOUND.]

Bloodhound had turned heel and ran, back into the thick of it, as a few others before them had. They could not rest, knowing that someone may be in danger. Bloodhound would not let this be their time.

They trusted that the raven that circled above knew the gravity of this, trusted that it would be their eyes from above, and alert them if it saw someone struggling. They prayed silently, to the Allfather, begging for His grace, for His hand to be kind to those they could not save. The earth itself trembled under them as they dashed back into town, on high alert. They tried to hear any cries for help, above the crumbling of home and foundation, anything signifying pain.

Anything that sounded like death.

They called out, into each home they came across, ushering a few stragglers along to the square. Making sure they were steady. They still didn't see Caustic, but they hoped that perhaps he had gotten out safely. He'd been a strong man, this they knew. Their skills as a human had carried over to this body, perhaps it was the same for him. If anything, the andskoti was much harder to kill than anyone could have imagined.

They trusted in this, as they trusted in the Allfather, as they trusted in nature, as they trusted their new feathery friend, and in themself. They pushed on, searching. Calling out into empty, trembling homes, and collapsing door frames. No lives needed to be lost this day.

THE TRUE TEST IS BEFORE THE ALLFATHER.

[Margery]

Margery had seen many of these earth tremblings in her long history of continuous reincarnation. It still drove deep shocks into her soul when she felt the ground shake once more.

Like many, she witnessed the light of the meteorite ripping across the sky, as her half-flopped ears pressing back against her skull in distress. Margery did not have a home in Tanglewood, not yet at least. It had been a good few weeks since she and her siblings appeared at the border, but Margery did not have a place that she called her own. This might have been what saved her, for she watched painfully as an empty house next to her groan and collapse to it's foundations. She knew nobody lived there, but now the danger was making itself clear. What were meant as humble abodes were now killing machines, destroying all the beating hearts inside.

The Welsh collie darted to and fro, attempting her own version of herding stragglers. Somewhere far beyond she heard Leroy's booming voice, but words could only do so much. The icy fear of the unknown could get people to freeze up and bring their death all the more sooner. Or their terror could manifest in pure insanity. Running away did not always result in safety, especially when it was done haphazardly.

Margery sought to protect those lives. She was preoccupied with ousting the occupants of a house not too far away from Bloodhound's searching. The house undertook the same groaning sounds as the one she saw fall down earlier. She was the last one inside, but she thought she heard a noise. She turned around for one moment back to the doorway when the walls gave out and she was buried under the rubble with a pained yelp.

/she can be powerplayed to get her out of the rubble. she suffers from a fractured spine and blunt head force trauma and is likely unconscious

[BLOODHOUND.]

Bloodhound was no stranger to death. From the first day that they spent with their uncle, days after their parents deaths, he had taught them the most humane way to kill a rabbit. They had shaken and cried at the thought, seeing the wounded little creature, bleeding out before them. It struggled in their hands, blood pooling and rolling between their small fingers. Their uncle had taken the broken little creature from them, and in a swift tug underfoot, separated its skull from its spine. He looked at Bloodhound, as if they themself were the one to be pitied, an expression they hadn't forgotten.

They had driven away the Goliath from their home and their people, they had been deemed Bloth Hoondr in a dying breath, from the man they had fought so hard to please.

They had honed their abilities, for both hunting and in battle, had killed fellow Legends hundreds of times. Their hands were always quick. Respectful. They were not here to cause suffering. Blood itself, the final blow, was enough. They held this ideal close to their heart, as they laid their foes low with skill and a sure hand. Methodical. Placing them to rest with their weapons in hand.

Hoping to see them too in Valhalla, dining alongside their uncle, when the Gods willed their own departure.

They did not have enemies, so much as they kept the memory of those that made the fight enjoyable. Andskoti was not something they spat in derision, but something that had the thrill of the hunt deeply tied to it.

They did not get far, or search for long, before they heard the crumbling of another home, the distant sounds of others being ushered out, of a yelp. Of flesh and bone being crushed under rubble. They froze, and the raven above them cawed, swooping down to land amongst the rubble. They followed its path, finding a collapsed home, the occupants running to the square. And yet...

They could see fur, beneath rock and wood and frame and hearth.

Worry filled their eyes as the dust from the collapse filled their lungs, and they're halfway through a coughing fit before they start to frantically dig and tear through the remnants of the home. They're panting and gasping for breath by the time they can see her face, their paws and gums full of grit and splinters. The dog didn't respond, limp, but her breath was very light. They attempted to get a grip on the scruff of her neck, and tug her free of the debris, but their initial efforts were in vain. They kept trying to clear the rubble, as the raven caws.

"You will not get this one." they hiss to the carrion bird, their mother tongue sharp, admonishing the hungry creature. This was not a hunt.

They eventually clear the rubble away from the dog, her body so small compared them. Bloodhounds heart lurches painfully in their chest at the sight. They're careful, as they gently take her by the scruff again, clearing the way with their massive paws. They pulled her from the broken home, hoping that the Allfather was watching.

THE TRUE TEST IS BEFORE THE ALLFATHER.