Times are in SLT.
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Emergency Medicine and responses – Lesson 2/PART 2 – with Prof. Y. Toran
August 26 @ 12:00 pm - 2:00 pm
beatings, crush injuries, triage of mass casualties
As usual: credits and maybe gifts/prizes
Times are in SLT.
beatings, crush injuries, triage of mass casualties
As usual: credits and maybe gifts/prizes
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Word on the street... Hathian’s underbelly churned yesterday with whispers darker than the bayou’s depths. Word is that the Haven’s latest stunt wasn’t a mere show—two bodies buried fresh, a grim admission slipping from lips meant to deceive. Meanwhile, a blaze at the butcher’s shack wasn’t just a fire; trucks blocking exits hinted at something far more deliberate, a smoke screen for a grander scheme. Over at the harbor, a tense standoff ended in threats and a narrow escape, but not before evidence was snatched from the jaws of silence. The streets are talking—things are shifting, alliances cracking, and the night promises no mercy for those caught in the crossfire.
Whispers in the bayou... ░▒░ Down at the docks, the woman with a sharp laugh tossed a fifty-dollar bill like it was nothing, eyes gleaming as she mocked the man’s innocent act—said he looked about as guilty as a raccoon rifling through trash. Her grin held secrets, wet as the bayou night, and the way she followed him to the counter—like a cat stalking a cornered mouse—spoke louder than words. ░▒ ▒░ But the real talk? Over near the Neon Lotus, whispers curl heavy like smoke—needles clicking, promises inked in pain and pleasure, debts carved into flesh that no ledger will show. The Silent Serpent’s grip widens, tightening around those who think they can slip through the fog unscathed, debts mingling with something darker now. ░▒ ░▒░ Deputy Thibodaux, watching from the balcony, catches the tremor in the air but says nothing. ░▒ ✨ https://news.backwaters.sl
Rumors on campus... Columtreal’s shadows lengthened yesterday as whispered warnings slipped through cracked lips near the taco truck. A woman, fiery and sharp-tongued, turned the heat up—not just in her spicy fillings, but in her threats: hands off, or teeth might become souvenirs. Tales swirled about a hidden pact between local women—taser and bat at the ready—to keep unruly men in line, their discipline both brutal and oddly nurturing. Meanwhile, the cheer squad’s latest tryouts stirred murmurs of relentless ambition, with praise tinged by undercurrents of rivalry and strained flexibility. In this city of moss and memories, every gesture and glance carries a secret too dangerous to ignore.
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