Times are in SLT.
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OOC Workshop: Conflict Resolution
Join us for a mini 1 hour workshop to go over conflict resolutions skills – the who, what, why, when and how of them! Open to all players of all sims.
Times are in SLT.
Join us for a mini 1 hour workshop to go over conflict resolutions skills – the who, what, why, when and how of them! Open to all players of all sims.
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Latest in World...
Word on the street... The city’s heartbeat throbbed with unrest yesterday. Whispers spread of a bloody brawl near the Clam Convenience Store, where a desperate fugitive slipped through police fingers after a shot rang out—leaving a man gasping on the asphalt, life hanging by a thread. Meanwhile, shadows crept around the pawn shop, where a brutal showdown erupted between a gang enforcer and a frantic stranger, ending in arrests and bruised pride. Elsewhere, chaos spilled into the streets as a wild assault on an officer shattered uneasy calm, sparking rumors that the law’s grip is slipping. Hathian’s nightweights grow heavier—trust fractures, alliances strain, and survival tastes ever more bitter.
Whispers in the bayou... ░▒░ They say down by the docks last night, the blonde in the torn dress was chained up tight, trembling beneath the flicker of a rusted bulb. The woman with cold eyes just watched, while the others came and went like vultures, dragging shadows over her broken skin and whispered pleas. The air was thick with sweat and despair, thick as bayou fog. ░▒ ▒░ But that wasn’t the only thing stirring—the Syndicate's whispers crawl through the night like a serpent coiling closer. There’s talk of a dark rite mixed in, some ritual tied to the cargo slipping through that cursed marina, shadows folding over smoke and secrets beneath the moss-draped oaks. ░▒ ░▒░ Father Delacroix caught wind of the tale, his gaze heavy and silent in the old church. He nods once, slow—like he’s seen this ghost before. What prayers go unanswered when the bayou swallows its own? ░▒ ✨ https://news.backwaters.sl
Rumors on campus... Columtreal’s shadows thickened yesterday, as whispers of a brutal poolside assault rippled through the campus like poison. Someone—an aggressor with a venomous grudge—flung a sorority cadet into the shallow waters, turning sport into menace, fracturing bones and trust alike. The incident’s aftermath drew paramedics and law enforcement, yet the lurking threat slipped beneath the surface, leaving rumors of threats whispered in dark corners. Meanwhile, a restless soul wrestled with inner demons and fractured alliances, caught between desperation and defiance in the rain-slicked alleys. And amid the low hum of routine, a failed violent act stirred bitter regrets—yet another faded scar beneath Columtreal’s mossy veneer.
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