The blistering sun boiled the earth, the dry, parched land reflecting its dizzying rays. The sun began its downward descent, but the brilliant blues gave no hint of fading yet to the evening pinks and reds. But darkness brought danger, and sometimes it was better to travel in the heat of the day then to venture beneath the shadows.

You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t know where you were going.

Sweat trickled down your body as you walked, rolling across your temples. With no signs of civilization within the past ten years, a shower was a rare commodity. Perhaps you grew used to the smell of unbathed humans, but you would at least like a safe place to rest. The nearest town, Old Church, a cluster of old buildings from before the moon fell, offered little safety. It was run by a man named Edward Newton who considered himself the ruler of the small community. It was once a suburban neighborhood, but houses were converted into hotels and markets. Dust became a permanent fixture in Old Church, and what houses were not claimed were demolished by the environment; broken windows and unhinged doors invited scavengers and dirt. Buildings in general had fallen into great disrepair, but the abandoned ones could prove to be dangerous.

Maybe you didn’t come from Old Church, though; you might have come from one of the many small towns like it. Scattered across the country, these places offered respite to the weary traveler—for a fee. Everything was for a fee. Money, no longer used as a currency, could be burned for fires. The world used a bartering system now, and there were people out there who were willing to kill for the items you carried.

You kept walking, though, your destination unclear. But as a building appeared on the horizon, you felt hope (or maybe fear). As you approached, you realized that it was a motel: a dilapidated, beaten place that probably was covered in bugs and grime well before the world collapsed. The place looked quiet enough, but one could never be too careful. Still, something compelled you to move forward, and before you knew it, you were on the step of the lobby. You stepped inside.

A strange gentleman—a muscled man in a collared shirt and a burgundy apron—stood behind the counter. It’s unsettling. He didn’t fit the profile of most travelers you encounter on the roads, and he didn’t have the cutthroat appearance that many of those who fight their way into power bear. But he watched you enter, and now he watched as you walked up to his counter.

The man welcomed you to the motel and offered you a room. He told you that it was free from the Cops, the renegade soldiers left over from when the government declared martial law. Likely this line brought relief to you—Cops followed no laws but their own and liked to make them up as they pleased since there was no government to tell them what to do. While some remained good and noble, they disassociated themselves from the main group. The man behind the counter offered you a room in exchange for an item. He warned you that while safety from the Cops was guaranteed in your room, you likely would have to share with others. You exchanged your item for a room key.


Your room has the following:

- Two twin beds. (Each with set of sheets and a comforter.)
- A nightstand between them.
- Two pillows on each bed.
- A lamp on the nightstand.
- A table with two chairs.
- A lamp on the table.
- A closet.

Inside the nightstand:

- Gideon’s Bible.
- Notepad (paper) and pen.

Inside the closet:

- Five wire hangers.
- Ironing board.
- Two brown blankets.

Inside the bathroom:

- Sink.
- Bathtub/shower.
- Toilet.
- Four towels (clean).
- One block of soap.

Thick curtains hang on the large window. There is a peephole on the door. Electricity: none. Running water: yes, but cold.


So it begins. Everyone is assigned to a thread. The setup is generally the same, though items and functionality of the rooms differ. Please do not leave the rooms until further instructed. Do not leave others behind in your posts, either. And remember: characters cannot have cell phones, mp3 players, or other technology. In fact, you’re limited to what you have in your bags (see OoC thread) and your room. Please also state what your character gave up in order to obtain the key.

CLARIFY - this thread is for Blaze and Macintosh

Blaze stepped into the room slowly, his eyes darting across the scarce amount of furniture that was messily scattered across the room. He could smell a feint trace of beer, a substance he had not smelt for such a long time. The previous inhabitants must've been lucky. Beer had been a very rarely admitted since it all happened.

He blinked, noticing how long he had been standing there. He took a step forward, his feet merely sinking into a sticky carpet. He moved towards a grimy bed, slumping onto the piece of furniture. This was another thing had not experienced for a long time. His and Mac's previous weeks were walking -- searching for some type of refuge they could call home for at least a small while. These days, a home was a valuable that was more rare than that treasures they scavenged for on a daily basis.

His head lolled back, he clamped his eyes shut and sighed with relief. Finally her was out of all the danger and heat and in a place he could call 'home.' Home while it lasted.

She creaked open the door and tiptoed inside, hoping that nobody else would be in there; Alas, there was also another figure.... and a male as well.... she was starting to doubt that the room was worth the food she had managed to gather up... and the deoderant...

At least it would keep her safe.

"Uhm, hello there." It would probably be best to not surprise her new roomate; after all, they were both in the same situation.

Macintosh walked over to Blaze, and sat down beside him. He was careful to be stealthy, for it looked like he was sleeping. He rolled his head back and stared at the roof. He sat there and thought about life as it is. He thought about his family. He thought about his home. He kept tbinking about these things, and found himselt fall into a long sleep, in which he sincerely hoped would not he disturbed.

Blaze's head turned to the door as it creaked open slowly. "Hi." He said cautiously, she may have been female but he did not trust many people easily. "Welcome." He added hastily, ushering her into the room with a hand. He shuffled along the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. These beds were horrible. He could feel springs pressing against his backside. "How's things... out there?" He said again, he would be better off getting to know his room mate while he was here.

"Worse than in here." She took out a canteen and drank some of the water, before figiting onto the bed-- everyone else was doing it. She closed her eyes, but kept on twitching here and there, nervous about what might be hidden in the shadows and mold.

After a while she gave up and went to check out the bathroom.

Blaze just sat there, inspecting her every moment, waiting for her to say something or for Mac to possibly wake-up which was a rare occurrence. He lay his head back, sighing as he listened to himself breath, "Do you have a name?" He finally asked.

"Huh? My name?" She bit her lip and crossed her arms, still wary of her roomates. "How about you give me yours first?"

He chuckled as he sat up. Cute. He thought over this for awhile before opening his mouth, "Blaze. Call me Blaze." He nodded, a smile broadening across his face, "Your turn."

"Mac" he said, suddenly awake, aware of the current situation. "Now, what's your name?" he asked her, staring her in the eye.

"Jessica." She sat down on the bed, staring at the two boys, frowning. She didn't trust Blaze, and having another figure in the room didnt help either.

"I'm going to try and get some sleep now. Goodnight." She hid under the sheets, hugging her backpack of supplies.

"Nice one Blaze" he said stupidly. He rest his head against the couch.

"Well then." He said in a harsh tone as he stood and walked over the windows which were partially shattered and cracked around the edges. He looked at the view he was given, not an elegant one, that was for sure. All he could see were upturned vehicles with the insides ripped out and roofs shredded away splayed across a seemingly endless wasteland.

Blaze moved his hands behind his back, staring into the setting sun, the last stretches of light slowly dissipating. He took out a lighter, flicking it on as a flame burst from the metal. He did this repeatedly until the sun had fully set and wastelands were enveloped by darkness. He put away the lighter and slid into bed.

Aragon slept and slept through the night. He was woken to the sound of a creaking door. He walked over to the door, cautious. There was nothing there. Night Jitters, he thought. He firmly closed it and went back to the safety of his bed.

Jessica opened her eyes, and found herself in an unfamiliar bed. What--
Oh right, she bought a hotel room yesterday. She slipped out of her bed, careful not to wake up her roommates, and went into the washroom. Curiously, she turned the tap, half-expecting nothing to come out, but out came cold, refreshing water. She quickly washed her face and her hands before leaving the room and going back to her bed, sitting on it while pondering what she should do next.

Blaze awoke to the sound of birds fluttering by. A rare sound. His eyes flickered open, the same musty smell of beer hung in the air. He sighed, bringing his feet to the creaking floorboards, standing to see Mac still asleep and the girl on her bed. She was a strange one, nevertheless he gave a slight wave. He put on his shoes which lay on the ground and sat back on his bed, flopping back on the hard mattress.

Waiting for Macintosh to wake up was a long task.