Times are in SLT.
CU Looter Cheer Practice/ tryouts
Bonus practice, for those who missed tuesdays practice!
Times are in SLT.
Bonus practice, for those who missed tuesdays practice!
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Word on the street... In Hathian’s bruised heart, the night sang of chaos and consequence. Word drifted through the alleys: a blood-soaked figure stormed a bar, razor claws flashing in a fit of fury, leaving even hardened cops shaken and stitched. Some swear she snarled secrets to the uniforms—something about “costumes” and old vendettas. Others whisper that a bar bouncer saw too much, and hush money may be changing hands. Meanwhile, low murmurs hint that digital secrets and faulty tech are changing hands on the sly, paranoia growing beneath neon glare. Razor-edged violence, hidden alliances, and ghostly data—last night, trust dissolved like Mississippi fog.
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... Columtreal awoke yesterday with the kind of tension you can taste, thick as the ivy crawling up old asylum stones. In the shadowed corners of Murphy’s Pub, laughter hid nervous glances—folks muttered about a faculty meeting gone awry, rumors swirling of secret allegiances forming beneath the guise of academic reform. Down Witch Way Alley, a quiet gathering by the occult storefront lingered past dusk, stoking whispers that the line between study group and midnight ritual grows thin this semester. Dorm windows flickered late into the night, where hearts and ambitions tangled, and not everyone was left unscathed. At Columtreal, nothing remains secret for long.
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