Times are in SLT.
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CU Cheer Practice and Tryouts
CU Cheer Practice and Tryouts – come hang out with the cheer squad!
Times are in SLT.
CU Cheer Practice and Tryouts – come hang out with the cheer squad!
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Word on the street... They say the city never sleeps, but last night in Hathian, it barely even blinked. Word on the street is that a masked brute with nothing to lose was seen lurking near Gein, armed and mean—bystanders swore they caught a glimpse of blood on his knuckles. Over at the Vudu Spice Shop, whispers swirled of a pair tangled up in trouble, cuffed and carted off by the boys in blue—rumor has it they put up more of a fight than the last hurricane. And if you listen close at the Daily Grind, you’ll hear talk of a weeping soul on the pier, sparking questions about what drove her to slap a badge.
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... Night fell on Columtreal University with the kind of hush that hides only the noisiest secrets. Across the moss-laden bricks, whispers clung to the shadows: someone claimed a ghostly figure prowled the main building—its asylum bones restless beneath the stone. At Murphy’s, a wild-eyed poet’s rant turned sour, fueling talk of a forbidden romance between faculty and student, leaving regulars thirsty for more than whiskey. Meanwhile, Witch Way Alley’s candlelit corners flickered with the scent of burned sandalwood and rumor—a clandestine ritual, or just business as usual? In Columtreal, truths are disguised, passions run deep, and every locked door begs for a skeleton key.
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