Times are in SLT.
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Sexy Santa Night at Sigma Theta Noir

Head on down to the CU Campus for sexy santa night at Sigma Theta Noir. 1pm slt Saturday 6th December.
Times are in SLT.

Head on down to the CU Campus for sexy santa night at Sigma Theta Noir. 1pm slt Saturday 6th December.
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Word on the street... Night fell on Hathian, painting the gutters with shadow and the air with secrets. Word on the street is, the station’s holding cells rang with more than just the clink of cuffs—two battered souls were dragged in, their brawl echoing down Main. Some swear a whiskey-soaked argument exploded into broken glass, fists, and tasers, while others mutter about humiliation and police hands wandering too far. Meanwhile, rumors swirl of a desperate woman in the throes of withdrawal, knife flashing in the gloom, nearly skewering a detective before she was hauled off, wide-eyed and feral. In Hathian, last night’s pain is tomorrow’s whispered threat—nobody forgets, nobody forgives.
Whispers in the bayou... . . . you didn't hear this from me . . . Heavy mist clung low over the water at dawn, swallowing the penitentiary's floodlights until only shifting silhouettes remained—thick-armed men unloading black crates, their hands gloved and hurried. The bayou birds kept silent. Even the egrets have stopped wading the shore. Deputy Broussard’s been pacing the old service road, mumbling to himself, rubbing at a burn mark spiraling up his wrist. Some say he hasn’t slept since the van arrived. It’s said those crates in the Pen don’t stay where they’re put—something inside wants out. The guards dream in screams. Ask at Gumbo Gas; someone there’s counting the missing. . . . ✨ ledger's latest: https://news.backwaters.sl
Rumors on campus... Shadows stretched long across Columtreal’s moss-laced stones, rumor swirling thicker than the mist. Whispers drifted from the dim-lit pub, where a tense standoff left more than just tipped bills scattered; pride and old grudges simmered hotter than a shot of bourbon. Over coffee, a careless mistake hinted at deeper schemes—alliances forged as quick as tempers snapped, with a single misstep as ransom. Elsewhere, hushed concern gathered around a battered scholar, her wounds stirring questions. Even the campus clinic felt the ripple: was it duty, or desperation, that brought some through its doors? In the end, Columtreal thrived on secrets…and yesterday, the shadows only deepened.
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