Every SCUL mission has it's special moments, and there are so many good ones that they all kind of blend together in to one big operation superposi. But some stand out as missions that folks should never forget. Here they are in no particular order.
There comes a time when battle-hardened chopper centurions simply run out of new territory to bumble through in their ever-expanding quest for glory, adventure, and sore butts. When that happens, you get on the commuter rail. Seventeen hours later…
We've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Flag-draped ovoid poo spires off the coast of Winthrop System. Battleships dropping out of warp in radioactive turbulence. Glittering Iridium reflected off I-beams by the Chelsea gates. All these things will be lost, like Tyrian in rain…
Ships snapping in two, plasma casings exploding loud enough to summon the authorities, and dancin' in da club. And oh yes, a tour of the local libraries. Best Failed Mission EVER.
Legendary pilots the fleet hasn't seen in years emerge through the fog of time to help form the largest battalion in SCUL history to celebrate the Fleet Admiral's fiftieth Orbit.
On the exact 50th anniversary of Apollo 11 landing on the Moon, we traveled there to commemorate the NASA astronauts' feat.
Hey everybody! Let's Launch at 0300 hours and greet the dawn!
Wormholes. Dark forces. Fart conduits. Leotard day comes through once again.
Twas July before Christmas, and all through the fort
Many pilot were stirring, with time growing short
To prepare for their mission to find Christmas Cheer
In the middle of summer– why wait a full year?
It's a wonderful Saturday night. Red Squirrel leads a mission and wants to light up the wormhole. No white lasers allowed. Let's bring some color into the deep space beyond the wormhole! The wormhole approaches and we turn our targeting droids off. Wait… what's that up ahead?! That's no moon!! Nooooooo!!!
Skunk's actual orbital day and 500th official SCUL mission. It was a milk run, it was a miracle. SCUL remains, an organized battalion of funk, giving us all the chance to be the superhero version of ourselves.
Twas funky, and the HARVy droves,
Did blink and blibble in the warp,
All plinky were the greeble ploves,
And the mooble floozle florp.
“Beware the Fuzzywock,, my son!
Its shorts all eaten, shirt astray
Beware the shiny, pointy one
As it teeters o’er the fray
Waltor says it's time to chop where no one has chopped before - let's fly the fleet to Logan Airport. It was harder than you'd think.
An excited band of nine pilots set a course for the Dracut System, in New Hampshire Galaxy for pinball and bonfire at Dreadflint's
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