Times are in SLT.
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FDH Community BBQ
Enjoy summertime with delicious BBQ, cool tunes, good company and vibes with your city’s fire department. Come on down and eat and drink up!
Times are in SLT.
Enjoy summertime with delicious BBQ, cool tunes, good company and vibes with your city’s fire department. Come on down and eat and drink up!
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Word on the street... Beneath Hathian’s jaundiced haze, yesterday’s streets hummed with secrets and violence. Whispers say a towering foreigner with a taste for cruelty struck at the infamous strip club, nearly choking the life from a young woman before she twisted free—rumor has it, the law’s already trailing his shadow. Meanwhile, eyes lingered on the Daily Grind, where a rough-edged regular’s tension with a rookie cop nearly spilled over, drawing sidelong glances and nervous laughter. And by nightfall, word spread of a trembling stray kitten and a lone woman’s gentle hand—some claiming she’d found more than just trust in those hungry eyes. In Hathian, every kindness risks becoming a target.
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’s ancient stones shuddered under a fevered hush as night fell—a night that left the campus slick with rumors and regret. Whispers coil from the crumbling Greek halls, speaking of a brutal display of dominance where pride was shattered against old asylum walls, leaving the air thick with shame and scorched longing. Elsewhere, in smoke-laced rooms, a tangled dance of lust and chemical courage played out—control surrendered and reclaimed in equal measure. And beneath neon shadows, a dazed figure vanished, clutching only confusion and a stained notebook, fueling talk that not all secrets in Columtreal are left willingly behind.
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