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Discontent

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  1. Hello! Maybe some of you have seen it, maybe some of you haven't, but I've got a little slice of heaven I've conjured up solely for the purpose of...well, look at the title. You guessed it! The zombie apocalypse. There's nothing more fun than guiding you silly little adventurers through my apocalypse themed room and seeing you off to either victory, or your demise. As of late, no one really pokes their heads in, so I thought..why not?! I'll post here and see if I can't get some more people to take a gander every now and then. You miiiight just have fun, never know until you try! Information: Character name: Malakae (Graves) : Owner of this here little bar turned barricade. Location: The Barricade, Trapped, Night of the Living Dead (You'll see it pop up as one of these, just depends on my brain!) Time: I have this room open usually when I get off work at around 4-5 a.m. central up until I crash and burn. I'll usually open it back up in the evening for a little before work. Weekends? Fair game, I'll have it open whenever I'm about! What to bring: Yourself, your imagination, your courage, your brain for noms. Also, if you'd actually like to play on the zombie side of things, let me know! I could use a few people who play as the nom-nommers of the living to help move things along. 3DX...of the Living Dead! A written account of the events taking place at the establishment formerly known as the Night's Kiss Bar and Hotel. This journal is maintained by the former proprietor of Night's Kiss, Malakae Graves. His eyes fluttered open, peering into the darkness of the room. For a moment, in his half-drowsy state, he thought he was waking up at home, in the comfort of his own bed. The thought was quickly dismissed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to see the familiar scene that was his bar, or once was. A soft sigh escaped from parted lips as he lifted himself up into a seated position, casting aside the soft sheets draped over his body. At some point, walking around nude in his bar might've been cause for concern. Not now though. There was no one to complain, no one to care about the bartender walking about in the nude, jingling the bells as if it were a Christmas parade. He stumbled through the dark, cursing under his breath as he nearly slipped and broke his neck on an empty beer bottle. It was a waking routine now, going to check the radio to see if any broadcasts were coming through. He twisted the dial, craning his head to the left, straining to hear anything, even the faintest whisper of static. It would be far better than the silence that had come through for the past few days. It was as if the whole world had just up and vanished, leaving him behind to suffer on his own. He had to pause on occasion, double checking, making sure that whatever noise he heard wasn't something conjured up by his desperate mind. It was often the case, he thought he heard something, only to realize that it was just his mind playing tricks. Turning and turning, his fingers kept twisting the dial until it came to an abrupt stop. Nothing again. "Hello? Hello, is -anyone- out there? This is..Malakae Graves, I"m radioing from a bar on the beachfront in 3DXia. I'm trapped, and I'm alone. I've got a little bit of supplies, but I'm not going to last long on beer and snack food. If anyone is out there, please respond." He lowered the microphone after he finished sending the message off. What was this, the. hundredth time now? He made sure to send it in intervals, at least once every one or two hours just in case. So far though, no answer, nothing. That had become the usual as well, it started to not even faze him anymore. He lingered in front of the radio for a few moments more, waiting, listening. The silence persisted and finally chased him from his seat at the small table. He finally focused on his surroundings more clearly, taking the time to do his inspection of the barricades blocking the entrances and all the windows. So far, the creatures outside hadn't been able to break through, but it was only a matter of time. The more they grew in number, the sooner it would come crashing down. Hopefully, by that point, he would have some means of getting out. He had explored a few options already, taken a few trips down to the beach, checked out the mountains in the distance. While the water seemed like the safest bet, he didn't like the idea of drifting out to sea and running out of supplies. But then again, heading up into the freezing cold of the mountains seemed fairly risky as well. Lack of supplies, gear. Either way, he was going to get fucked. His thoughts were quickly discarded, drawn back to reality by the sound of scratching, of an awful mix between a groan and a gurgle. One of them was right on the other side of the wall. It could probably hear him, or smell him. It made him shudder, feeling like some trapped little mouse in a maze where a hungry tiger awaits to pounce at the end.. "Fuck you! Fuck you! Go eat someone else you piece of shit!" It made him feel -slightly- better, or that was until the unmistakable sound of shuffling filled his ears. More were coming, attracted by his sudden outburst. The scratching sound soon turned to dull thuds as they beat away at the barriers, trying to get inside to claim the fleshbag on the other side. He cursed his own stupidity and shied away from the door, retreating to the last standing table in the room. "Alright...alright, calm down. It's time to start making a plan." He reached for his collections book, flipping through the pages, eyeing the various names of those who owed him for drinks. Money he was never going to get, people he was probably never going to see. Well, take that back, he had seen a few of his regulars, just.not -so-alive anymore. Shrugging it off, he turned to a blank page, staring down at the empty parchment for a long moment. "Fuck it, why not? You're going to be my journal, my day-to-day account of the world going to hell in a hand-basket." He lowered the pen and slowly began to write. An odd peace came over him as he wrote, a weight sort of being lifted from his shoulders. Maybe, just maybe it would help someone down the line. Day 1: I don't know what to really say, I mean..should I talk about my life before all of this? About how I was a spoiled child, about my illustrious sports career? The fact that I've had a hidden secret that helped me to excel through all of that? No? Yeah, I didn't think so. I'll just talk about the here and now as I'm not writing a eulogy here. I plan to survive and to whatever poor soul finds this, I wish you the best of luck. Maybe this will help, maybe it won't. If anything, at least you've got some toilet paper. So, how did this all start? Fuck if I know, I'm just an ex-athlete turned bartender. All I know is that one day I was running the bar, same as usual, nothing out of the ordinary. It's not like the place was some giant hot spot, I had regulars, people that came in consistently and a few newbloods here and there. So business was okay, nothing stellar, but I got by on my earnings from my glory days anyway. Oh right, I'm not supposed to be talking about me. ANYWAY! Just another day, serving drinks, making chit chat about this years 3DX Superbowl and the star quarterback's legal troubles. Right in the middle of the discussion, some asshat comes tearing through the door, screaming at the top of his lungs about some shit happening out on the streets. Curiosity drew us all to the doors and we poked our heads out to see the mad house. It looked like my old days playing football, people out there tackling one another..except they started eating them. I mean, I've seen my share of horror movies and that kind of instantly dawned on me that we're dealing with some fucking zombies. Zombies, man. Who would've really thought? Now, my first thought was to lock the place down, but on the other hand, there were people out there on the streets that needed help. What kind of person would I be if I just ditched them to be eaten? A selfish asshat, which I would've been proud to be, but for some reason, I tried to intervene. We shepherded people in through the doors, trying to get as many as we could before the mass of groaning, lurching dead folks came our way. It ended up being about fifteen of us locked up inside the bar, holding the doors and frantically trying to board up the windows to keep them from getting inside. It was a shoddy rushed job, but we managed to do that. Now imagine, the whole world turned upside down in a matter of minutes, being trapped in a bar with a bunch of strangers. No plan, no idea of what was going on outside, just..the constant sound of screams, of groans, of..just chaos. I'll..leave it here for now, I've got too many things to do to keep writing. I don't know why I'm telling the journal this, but..whatever, fuck. I'm done! He was just closing the book when a noise startled him from his state of relative peace. That wasn't a zombie, it was shouting, it was crying to be let in. A survivor?! "Holy shit!" He was out of the chair in and instant.
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