The Culling

Name: The Culling
Start: 2026-04-16T08:00:00-07:00
End: 2026-04-18T17:00:00-07:00

April 16, 2026 @ 8:00 am - April 18, 2026 @ 5:00 pm

It’s that time of the year again.

TBA.

Details

Start: April 16, 2026 @ 8:00 am
End: April 18, 2026 @ 5:00 pm
Event Category: Backwaters
Event Tags:Backwaters

December 5, 2025

Word on the street... In the shadow-soaked heart of Hathian, the city whispered of secrets brewing behind shuttered doors. Last night, the air inside the city’s clubs and bars trembled with tensions—one woman’s hunger flickered beneath wary eyes as privacy became the new currency. Observers noted guarded figures slipping quietly into back rooms, rumors swirling of secret rendezvous shielded from the prying crowd. Meanwhile, above the restless streets, isolation clung to the lonely, their detachment as thick as the city’s fog. Mischief, too, had its moment; upstairs, playful dominance danced hand-in-hand with forbidden intimacy, sparking talk of shifting control in places the daylight never sees. Trust, once again, proved a rare commodity.

October 27, 2025

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.

December 5, 2025

Rumors on campus... Some say Columtreal’s stone faces watched more than routine yesterday. Whispers trail from Witch Way Alley, where candlelit secrets flickered past closing, and someone claimed to see a cloaked figure exchange something beneath the willow’s shadow. Over at Grinder’s Dispensary, a familiar voice let slip knowledge better left unsaid—maybe just the haze talking, or maybe not. Meanwhile, the campus clinic’s lights burned deeper into the night than usual; rumor has it, a student stumbled in, clutching a talisman and muttering about a curse. All this, while the university’s old bones creaked, cradling ambitions sharper than any lecture.

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The Culling

Details

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