Ministry of Defence

One could feel the rough and raspy air grip one's lung. A landfill of waste, broken soil, and disintegrated remnants of what once lived. Nearby trees curled in flames, spouting white dust smoke from their dried member. A few bodies survived, no one left alive, however, the former told of how great a blast it had been – for said night, a clear message was sent to the opposing faction, '-enter at thy peril,' so said the unspoken threat. Yet another scar adds to Dorchester's fair skin, her sense of self waning by each strike, each attack, and each resolve.