Looking to avoid one more trip through the old SMS red tape mill?
A place to jump in and play instead of waiting on approval on SMS, and an
email with a couple of links?
Looking for actively involved writers and not as I heard said "promotion
happy pip junkies?"
A simm that has dynamic and creative missions where the writers are as
important as the admins? Well, maybe this is what you're looking for:
Here's a sample from our current Mission "Rise of the Fallen."
Sabros IV, Rock Climbing Area
"Ah, well, it's one of the many places I'd like to get to one of these
days." Smiling, he looked down at Trish. "You're doing great, just a little
Looking up, Trish noticed they weren't to far from the top. Trish was now
only realizing how out of shape she was and made a promise to herself to
visit the gym more often.
Grinning, Buck glanced up at Sebulto. "Give me a hand here, then we can get
Trish. I think it's going to take both of us!" The last was spoken loudly
enough that she could hear. Chuckling, he reached a hand up to Sebulto.
Right it will take both of you Trish thought, in a pigs eye
Trish began to methodically move from hold to hold until she was just shy of
the top, then had some difficulty finding a good hold to get over the top.
Looking up at Buck who was now looking over the edge with Sebulto she pursed
her lips in thought.
"We can always leave you down there." He grinned at Trish as he scrambled
over the edge with Sebulto's help, then leaned over and offered a hand to
"Come on, don't pout." He grinned at her and winked.
All Trish could do at that moment was stick her tongue out at Buck, and
started to reach up for his hand. As she was about to grasp it she saw a
barrage of little stones start to ricochet off the edge and also off Buck
and Sebulto, driving them back from the edge to
look for cover. it was obvious these stones were being thrown at them, as
there were no overhanging rocks that they could have fallen off of.
Trish was by herself, on the side of a cliff, 500 feet in the air and barely
hanging onto the face of the rock. For a moment, panic started to set in,
but she quickly controlled it.
Easy Trish, she thought to herself, You've been in worse than this
Looking up to the edge, a scant few inches beyond her reach, she yelled,
"Hey Guy's, what's going on up there"?
Or.how's this kind of post grab ya..
Day 2, 1105
Demar shifted slightly in the tree, peering down at the brush below. He
could make out Braz below, and off a ways, he could just barely spot the
other two boys, only because he knew where to look. While he wasn't
particularly pleased with remaining perched motionless in the tree, part of
their training had been just this. It was just a matter of time.he would get
Dkaar took long moments to roll back and look past the one in the tree. He
never looked directly at an enemy, always past, with them in his peripheral
vision. Ever so slowly he rolled back, the mud beginning to dry out now, but
it had not begun to crack and fall off, yet.
On the other hand, Braz was itching to have some action. He had a good idea
of where the prey was, and boldly started chucking rocks in that direction.
Although he had no way of knowing for certain, he was hitting only feet from
his mark, and he also had no way of knowing that the rustling in the leaves
near the ground was not, in fact, his prey, but a ground squirrel skittering
away from all of the activity in his yard.
Dkaar watched the young man, well, perhaps only a boy, but one with murder
in his heart, and in his immediate future. Leaning against the tree, a blow
gun and a bag
hanging from it. The boy in the tree had a blade weapon dangling from his
belt. The immediate target's movement caught Dkaar's eye.
Grinning confidently, Braz clutched the stick he carried, much like a cattle
prod, that would brand wherever it touched with his own mark. Of course, one
goal was to get as many of your marks on the prey before it died...
Rushing forward, he let out a blood-curdling scream, intending to flush his
prey and mark it...
The hunted turned hunter waited for the boyish prank to end. A dejected
youth with nothing to show for his bravado walked back to his post. The one
in the tree said something to him that Dkaar didn't understand, a language
he was unfamiliar with, but the tone told the tale. Again Dkaar rolled just
enough to watch the one in the tree. The scolding would be for the cry,
which would warn off their target, the target who was
already among them, unseen.
From his position he could see both hunters and commenced a wait. The one in
the tree casting angry glances to the one on the ground and then back toward
the road, the way they figured he would come. But the wait was not long
before a faint rustling from that
direction had boy in the tree straining to see. It was time!
Dkaar Zatain, once called an eloquent diplomat and a credit to the service,
came up out of the foliage in a rush taking the hunter by the head, hand
over his mouth, driving the dart into the boys neck as he peered into the
wide eyes of his victim, the first, the bloodlust running at a fevered
pitch! He dropped the dying boy, jerked up the blow gun, took a dart,
inserted it and aimed as the one in the tree spun on his perch and looked at
him, then blew!
Deftly he reloaded the gun as the boy from the tree dropped to the foliage.
Dkaar dropped the blow gun and took the dart as he trotted toward where the
boy had fallen, aware he had a blade weapon, but when he reached him he was
jerking and convulsing, foaming at
the mouth, the dart missed it's mark, hitting him in the shoulder instead of
the chest, but the job was done. Dkaar took the blade weapon from the boy.
Minutes later, Dkaar Zatain had taken a cloth the tree lookout had worn
across his chest and used it as a cover for his white hair, hiding it under
the earthen ton cloth tied about his head. He then walked out after the
others cautiously skirting to the right side of the direction they had
taken, trying to surmise their plan or hunting pattern to use it against
them. All thoughts of a communicator long forgotten, he was in his element
Behind him, the pain sticks once used by the hunter's were now stuck in the
ground. Atop them, their, once pride filled, heads were impaled.
A couple, but not all, of our current openings:
Deputy Wing Commander,
Chief Diplomatic Officer,
Chief Engineering Officer,
Second Executive Officer (By appointment only)
Well, you get the idea, and if what you're looking for is not there, ask!