Times are in SLT.
Conditioning with Coach Nara
Join Coach Nara for another Strength and conditioning class in the Gymnasium
Times are in SLT.
Join Coach Nara for another Strength and conditioning class in the Gymnasium
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Word on the street... In Hathian’s choking haze, whispers coil down cracked alleys and crumbling curbs. They say the carnival ran red last night—steel flashed, voices rose, and bodies dropped beneath flickering neon. Some mutter that a drunken troublemaker took a swing at the badge and lived to regret it, while others swear a standoff between rival crews nearly boiled over, only diffused by the threat of drawn steel and sirens. Paramedics hustled bleeding souls to the hospital, but ask around and the real talk is about alliances unraveling—frayed patience, bruised egos, and lines crossed that won’t be easily forgiven. In Hathian, every secret’s just waiting to bleed.
Whispers in the bayou... Another night slid through the rotten teeth of Laveau, and the bayou whispered secrets between the slick brick alleys. Word dripped from the marina that someone snuck illicit cargo off a battered trawler—boxes that glowed faint in the dark, guarded by men who didn’t blink at gunfire. Meanwhile, at the Barracuda, an argument between a wildcard regular and a Syndicate hardcase left a shattered glass and more than one black eye for the floor to clean up. And atop the old jazz bar’s balcony, a shadow broker met with desperate souls, peddling rumors that the Penitentiary’s silence is about to break. Watch your back—Laveau’s hungry.
Rumors on campus... They say Columtreal’s ivy-covered walls remember every secret—especially the ones spilled in the twilight hours. Yesterday, the campus hummed with more than academic tension. Word filtered from Get Woke Coffee’s shadowy corners of a clandestine meeting between two rival societies, their coded whispers promising campus-wide repercussions. Meanwhile, at Murphy’s Pub, a heated debate over a faculty scandal grew so loud even the jukebox paused to listen. In the dorms, a late-night commotion suggests someone’s been breaking curfew for reasons far more thrilling than a study session. Around here, ambition wears a mask, and loyalty is always for sale—if you know who to ask.
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