Shatterverse Panfandom RP

Doin, it seems, has grown bored with the snow.

It melts quickly overnight and by the time the sun rises in the morning, it's very pleasant out -- albeit a bit windy -- and he's louging in a makeshift hammock between two trees not far from the Cooper farm.

It's good to be a god.

There's a thick fog hanging low around town today, like the clouds have all fallen from the sky.



You've got to be careful, in fog like this.

Freeport was a ghost town for over a decade.

Was.

The monsters that arrived a mere month ago sent people scattering for safety across the state and after the destruction, after the monsters disappeared from the area, people took refuge wherever they could find intact buildings.

Freeport was lucky. The empty town was spared by the beasts and those who survived the attack began trickling in from neighboring areas. There was a problem, though -- there was no electricity, no drinkable water, and the cans of food they had found stored in the basement of the local church had to be rationed.

Those who felt they had no other choice decided to stay. Those who chose to live left while they still had their health.

Now, Freeport is a town full of the dead and the dying.



When a dense, black stormcloud gathers over Freeport on an otherwise bright and clear day, Doineann, the weather-god of another Earth, has no intention of putting the dying out of their misery. He has no intention of refilling the streams with clean water, no intention of soaking the ground so the crops may grow again, no.

He intends to destroy the town and everyone in it.

And so, he does.

The storm is like no other anyone in Freeport has ever seen before; it takes shape over the town quickly, its clouds dark and menacing.

The first clap of thunder shakes every bit of glass in the town.

The second clap of thunder shatters the glass.

The third is followed by lightning that illuminates the pitch-black sky and casts the giant shadow of a man across the ground, and then the wind comes. It swirls and whips and begins tearing the old buildings apart, sending debris at those most unsuspecting. A man is decapitated by a piece of aluminum siding; a woman, running into the safety of her home, is struck down by an uprooted tree; a small child, curled up underneath his bed, begins crying to his mother.

Doineann works quickly -- he doesn't want to expend so much valuable energy on such a small town.

Within seconds, a tornado is born -- an F3 on the Fujita scale, Doin guesses, not his best work -- and it barrels through the middle of the town, crushing the older buildings and stripping the newer ones of their walls and rooftops.



By the time the storm is over, there isn't much left of the town, and all terrified screaming has been silenced.

Standing atop a cracked wall of the church, surveying the damage, is Doineann in his physical form.

He's smiling.