Boring, Iowa

    Toby listens to the crowd from within her cell. "Burn her." They say.   Another voice says, "What's wrong with you people."   "Damn straight." James lowers his voice. "Like it or not, that girl has rights."   A woman speaks then, and Toby knows her voice. It's Sarah Herbert. They buried her husband last spring. "We don't know what she's capable of."   Toby shakes her head. Sarah was always nice to her before. Tears well up in her eyes.   James shouts to be heard among the commotion, "Now you listen to me. It took me two days to find the girl. She can hear this conversation and you're right, we have no idea what we're dealing with here." The Sheriff lets his words sink in. "So why are you so desperate to piss her off?" Silence follows. "That's what I thought. Now, Miss Wyatt will get a fair and proper trial…"

  Toby curls herself up into a ball on the cot. She's never been so scared. It's harder to hear the crowd now. They're calming down. It's then she hears a tap from above her.   She looks and sees a window, the face of a man peering through it. "Henry." She jumps to her feet, standing on the cot to see him clearly. He was wearing clothes. That was progress. His hair was gone but she expected that. He even looked like he was gaining weight.   Toby smiled and to her surprise, he smiled back. She then shook her head, trying to hide the tears. She threw her hands, gesturing for him to leave.   Henry shakes his head in response.   It's then Toby feels the bed shake, a gentle motion forward and back. The hushed conversation in the room nearby ceased. Again, the bed shakes. Toby turns back to Henry and the man is gone. Did something spook him? The bed shakes again and she carefully steps down to find the very earth shaking in the same rhythmic pattern.   James turns the corner and stares at her with wide eyes. "Toby?" He began, mustering the strength to speak. "What did you do?"

 

Boring

    Boring, Iowa, a small settlement on the very edge of the wild and untamed direwoods. It's the only settlement for nearly a hundred and sixty miles in all directions, and with so much space to grow, it's only right for it to flourish.   This town began as many post apocalyptic settlements do, a shantytown. Shacks were build and abandoned only to be restored and used by others as they passed through to greener pastures.   Many shantytowns fall apart after a while. People stop showing up or never bother to stop if they do. Its proximity to the Direwood made people uncomfortable, but despite the odds, it stands as one of the most populated settlements in the world… at 300 people.

The culture of Boring is a blend. Many different demographics call it home. It's diverse in color and origin. While roughly twenty percent of the population came from the American south. The hospitality, love of the outdoors, and conservative disposition came with them, the latter being humbled by the events of the end of the world.   Then you have the influence of the Steel Road. Settlers from the American northeast traveled along interstates, fanning out near Des Moines, Iowa to reach other parts of the fallen nation. The stretch of highway including interstate 95, 90, and 80 is considered The Steel Road, and brought a much more diverse pool of travelers to the settlement of Boring.   The mix led to a wide range of cultural diffusion, making the community far more liberal but otherwise unchanged. It also led to a wider acceptance of magic and the touched, though few in the community have personally witnessed it.

Most in the world barter, as no legal tender exists that holds its value. The town of Boring is no different, though there are some patterns that emerge. The town of Boring tends to value crops, but who doesn't. The main thing they need for aspiring traders is refrigerant.   When the E.W.B restored power to the settlement, there came a high demand of refrigerant or just HVAC knowledge in general. Many of the air conditioning systems are not functioning, usually caused by a lack of expertise. Summer can be hot and muggy. This is common in many warmer climates, but with its population, there is never enough supply to meet that demand.   Most stockpiles of freon exist in urban areas which means the presence of feeding rainbows are a constant risk. However, if you can haul even a single cylinder, you could easily make a small fortune.

"What?" Toby asked. "I didnt-" she stops when James unlocks the cell door.   "We gotta go," he says, guiding her out of the police department and into the crowd. The ground shakes once more. Toby turns to the horizon; towards the direwood.   Toby first sees the chicken-like feet whipping around the edge of the treeline. The walking island with several structures followed behind. She stared with the crowd, filled with wonder as they cried out in fear.   "What the hell?" James mutters, unsure if he should be afraid or amused at the strange way the thing walked. "Is that a trailer home?"   A circle of corvids flies around the great oak at the island's highest point. Toby couldn't help but smile, and James sees it right away.   Before James can speak, it occurs to him that the island was getting uncomfortably close, and showing no signs of stopping. "Move," he shouts, pushing people toward the left.   The crowd disperses as the island lowers closer to the ground, the legs seemingly absorbed by the tar-like substance clinging to the underside of the island. Just as it nears close enough to be dangerous, it hits the ground. The tar embeds itself into the grass and dirt, hardening into rock.   The structures barely shake at the impact, but Toby could feel it in her bones. As if on cue, a neon sign attached to the trailer home flickers to life, the words "Dread Romantic" beckoning one and all with pale blue light.