Enigmatik — Roleplayer Guild

There was a loud, conspicuous sound as Able slurped the vodka, before shaking his head. "Wheeeewie. That gives you a pep, for sure." He smiled. A group to work with, huh? A job within a job. He could live with making millions via the brutal assassination of everyone in his way. He could especially work with making even more millions by cooperating. As long as he made the most, of course. He hadn't become the head of international drug syndicates simply by allowing other people to walk all over him. Even if his business partners looked... Interesting. Wiping his nose, he snorted the last traces off and rubbed a little into his gums, letting out a long sigh as he did so.

The finely dressed man who introduced himself to... Omnivore... Seemed to be the one making their group all tick together. Straightening his clothing out, he also stepped forward, (or, really, stepped, as he was currently coked up enough to make every movement at about thirty miles per hour,) and stuck his hand out too. 

"Indeed, that would be me. My name is Able. Able Blackthorn. If any of you have any... Fingers in the pies that are international drug smuggling, I'm sure you should know me very well. Beam Katana enthusiast, un-addict to cocaine, and owner of some very nice firearms. I hope we can work together nicely! Also, if any of you would like 99% Colombian White Snow, I can hook you up with that no problem."

The Stronghold:

Their home. A two-story ranch near the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona. Made from stone and wood, nice and sturdy in the event of an attack. The windows have steel shutters that can be pulled down over them. The ranch has a decent amount of land, but it’s really not a huge amount, and since both of the pair work full time, demanding jobs, there’s not been a mass planting effort. Still, there’s a fair stash of lettuce and wheat seeds that can be planted, and the couple have a few chickens that scratch a living in a coop next to the house. The chickens produce around a unit a day all together, and can be butchered for more units. There is also a rooster that the couple owns, which could dramatically increase the number of hens they could have. Infection of their animals is a great concern of the couple, and they make sure to test them for avian flu often.

Of course, this is by no means it. The pair have around nine hundred units of food stored in the house, all in non-perishables, and perhaps sixty more units in perishable food. The non-perishable food is stored in the basement, which is accessed through a trapdoor hatch underneath a rug beneath their living room. In an emergency, this storage is also their last retreat, as only one or two people can enter the basement at a time. The ranch has a well at the back of it that goes down far below the water table, so only in the absolute driest of summers does the couple ever run out of fresh water.

Besides this, there is a large storage shed out back, which contains enough lumber, nails, scrap and so on to repair the house several times, as well as adding a second layer of protection to the windows. There is also a tremendous amount of tarpaulin, in case they need to isolate a room as a quarantine area. Common household supplies, like detergent and bleach have also been stockpiled, and the couple has no less than four Medical Life Support Bags, along with enough antibiotics and antivirals to treat themselves for several years of sickness. They hope they don’t have to use these though. Specialist equipment the couple have includes solar panels and a wind turbine to keep essential power on, several respirators, dozens of disposable NBC overalls, gas masks and several boxes of backup filters. The only power tools they keep is a chainsaw and plane saw for making new logs if needed, as well as a ham radio. 

For trade items, the couple has around $2000 worth of pre-Apocalypse trade items, which when combined with tradable tools, gives them around $15,000 of post-Apocalypse barter items. This goes up with the inclusion of their weapons: a semi-automatic Bushmaster AR15, which they have 6000 5.56 bullets for, a Remington 700 bolt-action rifle, for which they have 2000 .303 bullets for, two Glock 22’s for which they have 5000 bullets of 10mm for combined, and a Benelli Super 90 Semi-Automatic shotgun, which they have only 1000 rounds for. For close combat, they have axes, hatchets, the ever-present knives, and recently Trixie has been practising throwing and making tomahawks. 

As well as a more relaxed Ford Focus, the couple has recently invested in a 2017 Jeep Wrangler, for which they have enough fuel to use until it goes bad. Besides this, they have two mountain bicycles, with messenger packs for all of them. They have a small trailer that can be hooked up to their truck, but besides that, they don’t have a way of carrying huge amounts of supplies from one place to the other.

Survivors:

The ranch contains two survivors, more if you include the animals. Robin and his girlfriend Trixie, who are both firefighters, their dog, Rocky, and the four hens and rooster they own are the main inhabitants of the ranch. They are preparing for a pandemic to ravage the US, as well as having the capability to deal with the societal breakdown that will likely occur in such a scenario. Whilst they haven’t dedicated themselves to a single disease, their big worries are Influenza/H1N1, Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease, other viral plagues.
Robin is 27, and has been a firefighter since he was 19. He’s fit and strong, as would be expected, and has also picked up an eye for finding things even in high-stress situations. He’s an amateur handyman and gardener, but terrible with mechanical things. He has basic 
first aid training, but nowhere near that of his girlfriend.

Trixie, 24, is also a firefighter, but unlike Robin, she’s a trained paramedic as well, and has taken it upon herself to learn mechanical skills. She can’t repair an engine block or anything like that, but she can get their car from broken down to functional, won’t short the entire thing out if she needs to use jumper cables, and has also begun to learn how to throw tomahawks. Both of the pair have been going to 
a shooting range for the past few years in order to practise their aim, and consider themselves somewhat capable marksmen. 

The final member of the group is Rocky- a 3 year old German Shepherd. He’s been trained well, and although he eats into the food that the group has, Robin and Trixie wouldn’t have it any other way. 

The Lore:

“Ok, so, let’s just go through all of this again, right?”

“Alright.”  Trixie nodded, ruffling her hand through Rocky’s ears as she did so. “So, in the Focus, we’ve got one of the medical kits, the Benelli, and the anytime ready kit, yeah?”

Robin went though the list and ticked off a few items. “Yeah, that sounds about right, I’ll double check in a minute. In the Wrangler, we have what, another medical kit, the Remington and a spare hatchet, yeah? Plus the other anytime ready kit.”

“Yeah, I checked the other medical kit in there, it’s still good, so no worries there.”

“Anything in the trailer, or did we decide to keep that empty?”

“No, that’s empty.” 

“Alright. So, aim for this bug out is to have the trailer hooked up and for us to all be in the car in five minutes. Three. Two. One… BUG OUT, GO!” The firefighter clapped his hands together and took off, a quick whistle from Trixie enough to get Rocky moving. The dog knew that when this happened, he had to head to the red car and wait for them to open it for him, the owners of the house running ASAP. In the event of a bug out, they had a few waterproof barrels of food- around twenty or so units, stashed in their cupboard, and Trixie stacked up two of them, even as Robin picked up two rucksacks from their bedroom and hurried back down the stairs again. The door to the Wrangler opened with a loud bleep, and he swung the rear door open, tossing a treat to Rocky as the dog leapt up and into the back seat. The two rucksacks went in next to him, and he panted eagerly, Trixie placing the food barrels into the trailer, and then beginning to attach it to the rear of the car. 

“Two minutes, come on!” Clapping his hands twice, Robin returned to the house, fumbling a keychain and unlocking their gun cabinet. The AR was hefted out, along with a box of ammo, and he tossed the rifle over his shoulder, the strap making sure it stayed there. The two pistols were locked in their holsters, and so he simply had to pick up the belts, locking the door behind him as he got into the shotgun seat of the car. When he was strapped in, he clicked the stopwatch and nodded. “Three minutes twenty four. Point three one five.” He chuckled a little bit. “We did good. You get the water as well?”

“Yeah yeah, it’s in the trailer.”

“Amazing. We should do decontamination practise next, shouldn’t we?”

“Probably, but I’m pretty buggered out right now.”

“Well, that’s the way things are. We should at least try.”

“Alright, fine fine.” 

“Remember to repack the food!”

Enigmatik Member

Recently-Medicated Thembie Supreme

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