Hording in the 21st Century
Well, I’ve actually gotten enough of a story written that I’m not ashamed to post here.
I wondered what it would take to raise a marauding horde in the 21st century, and the more I thought about it, the better the idea got. For a story, not an actual movement. See, I’m the girl who’s so allergic to horses…
I still don’t know how this ends, and I was really hoping that I could get more than 1,500 words out of it, but here it is. I’m quite pleased with what I have right now, and hopefully, the way things turn out will become clear to me sooner rather than later.
Writing this like as if it were a blog seemed to be the most natural way to tell this story. I probably should figure out dates for each entry, but…meh.
With modern times being what they are, life has gotten a little monotonous. I have a proposition to break up that monotony. I want to form a horde. Not a hoard, where I would gather random junk together, but a horde, a rampaging group of individuals who terrorize the countryside, bringing excitement into not only their own lives, but the lives of those around them. So, this is me, asking for volunteers, and a financial backer. See, I’m broke, and would like to be less broke, thus the rampaging. But because I’m broke, I can’t afford weapons, armor or horses for anyone besides myself (and I’m going to insist on horses. If we’re going to horde, we need to do this properly.) While I acknowledge that the initial investment will be quite high, I’m confident that we can recoup our losses, and then some. After all, Genghis Kahn didn’t conquer all of Asia and half of Europe just because he wanted to.
Oh, and I’m also going to say, no guns. A horde with guns just isn’t a horde.
Recruitment, pt 2.
Well, we’ve gotten a few people dedicated to the cause, but right now, I think six is more of an annoyance than a horde—especially when three of them have never been on a horse in their entire lives, a another is so allergic to horses, that she has to wear a hazmat suit. Which actually gives me a good idea—Hazmat suits are the symbol of terror in this day and age. If we ALL wear hazmat suits, then our opponents might wonder what exactly we’re using as weapons, and flee in terror without us having to inflict any damage.
Now, to figure out how to make that work with armor…
The horde has swelled to 15—I think we’re to the point where we might just be able to do some damage. One of our recruits is a survivalist with not only a large supply of hazmat suits, but knowledge of edged weapons. He’s been made the de facto leader. I’d feel better about this if he didn’t only answer to “The General”.
Since this is new to all of us, a practice run is in order. The General knows of an abandoned mining camp that he says will be perfect for our needs. We’ll meet out there this weekend.
Well, the practice run didn’t go according to plans—or at all, for that matter. See, the horde is now big enough that we had to travel in separate vehicles, only the one that the general was driving made it to the designated meet site. And they didn’t have the horses. The vehicle that WAS towing the horse trailer got stuck almost as soon as they turned off the paved road, and the other vehicle got hopelessly lost. The sheriff’s department had to go out and find them. For some reason, that made the General very nervous.
We’re going to have to try again, but we’ll make sure to coordinate better.
Good news and bad news! The good news is that the horde has swelled to 29—it would have been thirty, but the girl who is allergic to horses had an asthma attack that landed her in the hospital. She decided that hording just wasn’t for her. The bad news is that we only have five horses. One of the horde members suggested that we use motorcycles, ala Mad Max, which caused quite a discussion—while I feel that a proper horde should use horses or ponies, I haven’t seen the movie, so I declined to take sides.
The problem of armor was also brought up. The “no guns” policy is requisite for joining the horde, but someone brought up that, initially at least, most of our targets would be small town agricultural—and likely armed. A few tests with the ragtag pieces of armor that we have (done by the General, of course.) showed that they wouldn’t hold up to gunfire.
Someone mentioned bullet-proof vests, and the General says he knows a guy. I’m not sure that it’s legal for civilians to own them.
And yes, I am full aware of the irony of a horde that is concerned with local law.
So, we’ve managed to round up a few more horses, enough, in fact that I’m convinced that if our first raid is on a stable we’ll be able to mount the whole horde—37, now.
I looked into Kevlar vests, and, surprisingly, yes, they are legal to buy. Cost, is an issue, though, as they range from $60 to over $1,200. While it’s probably not a good idea to go with the bargain-basement armor, if most of us had an extra twelve hundred dollars laying around, we wouldn’t have gone into hording in the first place.
Most of the horde members are chomping at the bit (no pun intended) to get their first raid under their belt. I’m remembering the disaster of the practice raid, but we’ve been training, and I think we can pull it off.
Our tactical team has located the perfect stable, and we’ll try our luck within the next little bit—I don’t want to divulge any information, just in case the stable owners/managers/employees read this blog.
The First Raid
I guess technically the first raid went off without a hitch. At least, our mission was accomplished. We decided a night time attack to be the best bet—I know that it’s not very horde-like, but our numbers, though growing, are still too small.
The owner of the stable caught us, and confronted us with a shotgun. When we explained who we were and what we were doing, he started to laugh.(!) Not exactly the reaction we were going for. When he saw that we were serious, he said “Hell, boys, I’m all for a little excitement in my life. Tell you what. I’ll let you use my horses and outbuildings, if you let me go along.”
So, we’re now up 20 horses, three horde members, and a base of operations. I can’t help feel a little disappointed, though. I don’t think this is how it was supposed to go.
If we’re not a horde, then what are we?
A local newspaper got wind of the horde, and did a story on us. We’ve also since had a few TV crews out to film us training. (The general mysteriously disappears whenever a reporter comes around for some reason) Well, it turns out that some locals of Mongolian decent object to us using the term “horde”. I can see their point, but I don’t know what else to call us. I’ll do some research.
The media publicity has helped our numbers grow incredibly—we now have over 100 horde (or not horde) members! 104, to be exact. Unfortunately, we’re pretty spread out, with over 50 members in locations that don’t exactly make lighting organization and strikes possible—one horde member is even in London, she contacted me via email. I’m happy to put her name on the horde rolls, but I don’t know how she plans to participate in our raids.
We found out why the General didn’t want to be on TV. We were at the stables, training as usual, when suddenly, we were surrounded by cop cars and helicopters. Seriously, the Vandals never had to deal with stuff like this.
We were a bit perplexed, at least until the tear gas hit, then we weren’t really thinking of anything at all. Our one raid had been resolved peacefully, and technically, we hadn’t broken any laws…
Well, WE hadn’t. It turned out that the General had broken quite a few. As soon as the horde (or not horde) reached the public eye, it seems that we were being investigated. When the General’s involvement was found…
The owner of the stables was quite upset, naturally, but fortunately, none of the horses suffered permanent injury, though the same can’t be said for his barns.
I’ve had to spend the past day at the police station, while they try to figure out my connection to the General.
Right now, my biggest fear is that this will be the end of the horde, or whatever we decide to call ourselves.
So the cops finally bought my story and set me free. However, with this setback, the horde (or whatever) is now down to 67 members. Most of them are helping the stable owner repair the damage to his property. Again, I can’t quite feel that this is proper horde (or whatever) behavior.
We’ve come to a group decision to put off any further activities until we are sure that we are no longer under police surveillance. The stable owner also mentioned that most of the crops grown around here are fodder for animals—alfalfa, feed corn and the like. Good for the horses, not so good for us. Yet another way that monoculture farming is ruining this country…