Do or Die Valentine Sim Plot

Name: Do or Die Valentine Sim Plot
Start: 2026-02-14T00:00:00-08:00
End: 2026-02-15T23:59:59-08:00

February 14 - February 15

Information will be learned ICly and in-world during the two-day event. This will not be known ICly until then. Look for posts in CD Citizens, Discord, and social media.

Details

Start: February 14
End: February 15
Event Category: Crack Den
Event Tags:Hathian

Organizer

Ten No Kage

August 5, 2026

Word on the street... Yesterday the city’s underbelly hummed with tension thicker than the summer heat. Rumor has it a red-haired ghost vanished without a trace—whispers blame a jealous rival whose threats were no idle boasts. Meanwhile, a botched attempt at breaking into the butcher’s window turned into a farce, with one pistol’s safety sabotaging the plan, leaving nerves frayed and alliances tested. And out by the old video rental haunt, a brawl exploded when defiance met police force, culminating in cuffs and bruised pride. Hathian’s streets continue to blur the lines between predator and prey—trust is currency, and today, it’s all but worthless.

August 5, 2026

Whispers in the bayou... ░▒░ They say down at the docks last night, the dark-haired woman with restless eyes grabbed the thick rubber toy from the table, her movements sharp against the sticky heat. No one dared speak—just the slick slide and her quiet gasps in the shadowed room where sweat clings like moss. ░▒ ▒░ And that wasn’t the only thing stirring beneath this heavy air. The fog’s been creeping thicker, swallowing whispers and footsteps near the old asylum, where debts bleed deeper than skin and the Syndicate’s grip tightens like a noose around the bayou’s throat. Even the night feels watched, waiting. ░▒ ░▒░ The man in white, sharp and silent, caught the tale but scowled, glancing toward the door like it might burst open with secrets. What’s he hiding? And who’s really paying for these sins in Port Laveau’s backwaters? ░▒ ✨ https://news.backwaters.sl

August 5, 2026

Rumors on campus... Columtreal’s mossy shadows hid more than secrets yesterday. Rumor has it a tattooed stranger was peddling something far from the ordinary at Looters—something called Ambrosia, stirring whispers of a new, dangerous high slipping through campus veins. Meanwhile, the quiet heat wave brought bruised knuckles and whispered tales of clandestine martial arts—somewhere between survival training and a dance with pain. The old asylum walls caught murmurs about an unexplained hospital generator explosion, blamed on a mountain of ice cream machines and the relentless blaze outside. Beneath polite smiles and routine orders at Get Woke, the pulse of something darker throbbed—a campus restless, waiting to break.

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