Trees fall down, go boom!

[DoF Archive]

Date: 1/7/1998 10:07 AM Central Standard Time
From: JLohman711

Jack jumps in and translates the Goon-ese for the benefit of the workers.

"Where did they go? Where did the people that were chopping down these trees GO?? Why are they chopping down the trees anyway?? And why did they pick THIS forest, out of so many others?

[DoF Archive]

Date: 1/7/1998 11:37 AM Central Standard Time
From: Descartse

"Jacobs, settle down!" Dawson calmly began to become infuriated. He knew exactly why Jacobs had called so late in the evening. "Alright, slowly tell me exactly what happened." "Well, sir, the bigfoot attacked us again and totalled my truck. One was killed, two others were wounded but managed to escape. However, the bigfoot seems to have brought some assistance. The others-" Jacobs began to cough incessantly, and could not respond for a good minute. "(hack) -the others ... have not shown resistance as of yet, but they don't look friendly." Dawson carefully thought the situation through. "Tell Jenkins to call me IMMEDIATELY for further instruction. In the mean time, if anyone tries to cause harm to you or any of my employees, shoot to kill. Furthermore, do not let anyone retreat. Got that?" "Yes Mr. Dawson," replied Jacobs with confidence. "Good! Oh, one more thing... I have heard that you guys have been doing a fabulous job keeping up with the demanding schedule while under such duress..." "Tha-" "-Don't let it rush to your heads," replied Dawson hurriedly. "Anyway, I want you and your men to work out the rest of the schedule plus two extra days. For every 10 GOOD trees that your men get over the projected yield, I will give each of you a bonus of $5 on top of your pay." Dawson could hear the excitement build on the other end of the line. "Alright Jacobs, get back to work." "Yes... and thanks again Mr. Daw-" Dawson abruptly hung up, happy that he could make a scared man cheerful, but upset at the situation forming and the loss of revenue that its causing him. He reclined in his chair and began staring at the ceiling. A chilling breeze whistled through the hole in his large plate glass window. Content to stare at oblivion, Dawson vegatated, missing the first ring from his private line. Ring.... Lowering his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose with his left thumb and forefinger and inched towards the receiver of his private phone. Ring.... Nonchalantly, Dawson picked up the receiver and with a long delay echoed a "Hello." "Hey boss." It was Flint, one of his men. Dawson opened his bottom right drawer and pulled out a glass and a bottle of Stoli. "Hey Flint. How are you and the other four doin'." Dawson popped the top and slowly began to pour out a good amount in his drinking glass. "Well, not much so far. One of the guys saw the mess up on the west side where that mongaloid ripped off the bumper. Other than that, not much is going down here." Dawson began rub his forehead and took a swig from the bottle. "Not much compared to what you are used." Chuckling, Flint continued, "Yeah, I guess ... but what you want us to do besides watching your sheep." Dawson's mouth began to perk up on one end. He capped the bottle and put it away. "I want you guys to do what you are good at. Anyone threatening to hurt any of the crew, shoot 'em. BUT, first with the, ahem, tranquilizers." Flint snorted in approval. "Well, this won't be as fun as live ammo, but... " Dawson could see Flint creeping a smile on the other line. "It will have to do." Snatching his glass, he took a sip and continued. "I do not want to hear anymore about this. Just care of them."

[DoF Archive]

Date: 1/8/1998 12:35 AM Central Standard Time
From: SpifyMcBng

((Author's note- I'm not adding to the story yet, I want to see what the loggers at the site do. As far as I'm concerned, the confrontation isn't complete. Also, I want to apologize to Descartse for missing his name on the list..but so everyone knows now, we all agreed in a mass mail (which I forgot to put Des' name on) that none of the loggers would die. No need to repost or anything, but once the confrontation ends, the report back will have two
or three wounded (if no more get hurt), none dead. ~Spiffy))

[DoF Archive]

Date: 1/8/1998 11:42 AM Central Standard Time
From: Descartse

((sorry, thx for sending me the note before i concocted an even worse result. k, the report is now three wounded, one seriously.))

[DoF Archive]

Date: 1/9/1998 8:27 PM Central Standard Time
From: DoraeRasta

She had been quiet and thus had gotten closer to one of the strange vehicles. No one seemed to be around, most of the men were gathered elsewhere, preparing to leave the barren spot, darkness almost full now. Crouched in the brush, she waits and listens, making sure there was no one in close proximity before approaching the mechanical moving box, which isstill right now. As she had made her way over to the trucks, she happened to stick a hand into one of the pockets of the rag that serves her for a cloak and low and behold discovers the copperhead snake she had taken out earlier in the day. Violet eyes brighten dangerously as an evil plan begins to form in her mind. How to do a bit of damage without them finding her, enough to maybe slow down their progress? Copperhead snakes are not indiginous to the forest. They prefer rocky, wooded hillsides near water, swamp edges and canyon springs. But this is a pet, one of several serpents kept by Dorae. This is not an agressive snake, they do have venom and their bites are painful but not life threatening... usually. Serpents like the woman, they do not feel threatened by her and so the reason this copperhead lets her touch it, handle it without much protest. So now, standing by the drivers side of the truck, Dorae slowly draws forth the snake from the deep warm pocket it had napped and traveled in. Forked tongue slithers from its mouth, testing the air, looking for danger. In a very soft voice the woman speaks to the snake, apologizing for waking him andoffering up a prayer that the snake will come to no harm... though knowing men, the snake has no chance if found. The lower portion of the serpents body wraps around her fore-arm and it's head moves closer in front of her face. Tongue flickers across the tip of her nose and then the head pulls back. With that signature slight smile of hers, she turns and looks to figure out how to open up the metal contraption. Seeing a handle, she pulls. Nothing. Some sort of button seems to be in the middle of the handle and she depresses it, which opens the door. A quick glance around her before she gently detangles the snake from her arm and deposits it in a coil onto the seat of the cab. In a soft whisper, she bids the copperhead to hide and bide its time before ascending upon its intended prey. She hopes the hunt will be a fruitful one, wishes it luck then quietly closes the door. On silent feet she slips back into the forest, hiding once again in the brush and sits to wait......


Dorae "The Dangerous" Rasta

[DoF Archive]

Date: 1/17/1998 2:13 PM Central Standard Time
From: TreeFellr

The shouting and the steady thrumming of the diesel engine immediately brought Layne out of his slumber. Rising slowly, he took a deep breath and prepared to give the leader of Team Five the bawling out of his soon to be short-lived career. However, all that left him when he stepped through the flaps of his tent. One of his men was being carried out of the cab, blood running down his face, body limp. Two others had broken limbs and the rest
looked like they had taken a few lumps as well.
Jacobs, the head of Team Five, stumbled towards Layne, holding his arm and wincing in pain, fairly out of breath. Before Layne opened his mouth to ask questions, Jacobs had already started explaining.
"…ot a flat tire Mr. Jenkins…near Team Three's position. We…we stopped to change and something attacked us. Big…babbling thing…other people…buncha tree-huggers. The big one nearly killed Larry…slammed him against the truck headfirst. Did the same to Jim but he's still alive…tried it with me but only got my arm." Jacobs sucked in a breath. "Damn this hurts… Dawson wants you to call him…now…told us to hold our ground but we had to get out
when they tried jumping us again. The big babbling one ripped the fender off the truck…started swinging. He clubbed James and Seth before he somehow smacked himself in the head." Jacobs shook his head. "There were more of them holding back…I don't know what happened to them." Jacobs was talking loudly now and many of the men had risen from their tents to see what was going on. "…to defend ourselves, but he took us by surprise!" Jacobs whirled
about, looking at Larry, who was being tended to by some of his friends. "Dammit they almost killed him! They attacked us for nothing…we just had a flat…"
Layne had heard enough and he began walking towards the small headquarters. The small medical crew was already beginning to assist the wounded and he wanted to move away before he punched the nearest target. He had had it. The tree-huggers thought they could use any means necessary, did they? Not on his watch they wouldn't. And where were Dawson's special secret men, anyhow? He hadn't seen them show their faces around here yet. Grabbing
the phone, Layne punched in Dawson's number and impatiently waited for the ringing to end and the man to pick up. Seething, Layne waited, wondering just how unpleasant this conversation would be.

[DoF Archive]

Date: 1/18/1998 1:50 PM Central Standard Time
From: SpifyMcBng

Goon sat up, truck fender in his hand, everyone standing around peering at him. Dropping the fender, he rubbed his head, wondering what happened. Looked like the loggers were gone..that was the important thing. Grinning at his forest-saving cohorts, Goon looked around, playing guard. His head was pounding too hard to think up anything else. Cracking out a bottle of Demon Rum, he waited for the loggers to try and return...

[DoF Archive]

Date: 1/18/1998 4:01 PM Central Standard Time
From: JammerZ33

Ryan sat high up in the branches of a tree overlooking the site where Goon had assaulted the loggers. He hadn't come up with the others, opting instead to prepare in his own way. The Fuchi-brand wraparound sunglasses ironically brought the night into crisp, clear view. Being an elf (something not many knew about, and hidden most times by his long hair, obscuring the points of his ears), his natural night vision would normally have been enough, but
it was a new moon tonight, and no stars could be seen. He sat back and watched the aftermath of Goon's crude-but-effective attack on the loggers. Goon sat grinning while the others hung back, apparently watching for a counterattack by the loggers. Ryan drew the longcoat around him, reassured by the familiarity of the outfit that he hadn't worn for some time. The pack strapped to his shoulder carried rations for several days and the remote helmet
he had brought in case the hunter-killer drone was needed. He had, fortunately for the loggers, remembered to load the drone with gel rounds, which at best (or worst, depending on which side you're on) would knock the loggers unconcious. The internal radio had picked up a call from some special-forces team hired by the logging company. He had had to stifle a laugh at the overconfidence of the four men. Four men....it was almost laughable. Still,
he'd better not get overconfident as well....that more than anything could lead to disaster. So, Ryan just sat back and waited....for the next move.

[DoF Archive]

Date: 1/18/1998 5:58 PM Central Standard Time
From: Mr Sumgi

It had been weeks since he left the yellow ball at the Outback, but he got no response. Sumgi smacked himself for being foolish enough to not leave a note when he should have, although that might not have helped much either. He figured the ball had rolled off of the table, or someone just picked it up to add to their collection. As he walked to his room, he thought about Goon, if he could handle what might come, still thinking he
was the only one getting involved in this scandal. He wondered if anyone else was getting involved in it too, and their safety. He was thinking of a thousand things at one when he finally could not stand to think any further. When he arrived at his room, he yanked his gloves off, threw them down on the floor, and said to himself, "I've waited long enough..."

Exiting the inn, he began once again the walk towards the site, to see what was going on, and try to get an idea as to what he could do. When he got to the Outback, he had intended to leave the note he should have earlier, but somehow his mind let go of the thought, and turned back to where he had hid before. He was dismayed to see that his pine had been cut down, and he knew who was responsible with out a doubt. So he ventured
farther until he found another spot that met his satisfaction. He quickly returned to the Inn, and got a few hours of rest, for he knew he might need all the strength he could use for tonight, both physical and emotional.

Night came, and Sum was hiding in his spot inside a few bushes. It was a fair distance from the logging site, not too far but not too close. He just stared at the empty site, waiting, and waiting. He figured it would be about an hour or later when the loggers would come to continue their work, so he stepped out a little to stretch out a little. He looked around, saw nothing but a section of tree stumps, alongside a section of
trees still lucky enough to be still standing now. But as he looked around behind him, he thought he heard a few footsteps. Startled, he quickly slided back in the bushes. Nothing came out. He breathed a sigh of releif and backed out again to look around the area. Within a second after coming out, he felt the barrel of a gun in the back of his head and a voice yell,"Freeze! Put your hands up!"

[DoF Archive]

Date: 2/3/1998 3:19 AM Central Standard Time
From: TreeFellr

Layne hung up the phone. Dawson was not pleased…not pleased at all. Even less pleased than last time, which seemed almost impossible. His orders still stood and Layne was to continue the operation. Plus, Dawson had been less than forthright about the "team" he had supposedly sent to guard over the camp. Layne snorted. Like he needed guarding by some babysitter goon squad. Ok, maybe this bunch of tree-huggers was more than aminor annoyance, but they had yet to do any serious damage and they seemed as capable of hurting themselves as they did his loggers. But Dawson didn't really care about that. Dawson wanted to be rid of the tree-huggers as much as Layne. And like most people who had others do all the work while they reaped the profits, he made it sound so neat and simple. "Just do your job." Yeah…Layne would have liked to see Dawson get off his bureaucratic backside, live out of a tent in the cold weather and swing an axe all day long. So it was no small wonder that Layne was just a tad irritated. The lack of sleep wasn't helping, either. Stepping back outside into the near-freezing weather, Layne wished for the comfort of a woman, someone from whom he could garner some warmth on these miserable nights. Maybe he'd have to check out the place Braxxx had recommended…the Wild Jasmine. Sounded like a decent place at any rate, if indeed anything in that whole dammed town could be labeled as such. He moved past the fenderless truck without bothering to inspect the damage. The cab door had been left open and he glanced inside, noting that for some reason, a coiled rope lay on the floorboards. That was odd, he thought, but then again the entire night had been odd. One of the men had probably tossed it there instead of securing it on the back of the truck. Normally, he'd chew people out over sloppiness like that but he was too tiredright now and it wasn't as if anyone would admit to making the mistake. Shaking his head, Layne concentrated on the cloud of vapor that escaped his mouth each time he exhaled. That, at least, was more interesting than rope. Fumbling for a match to light the half-smoked cigar that rested in his mouth, Layne considered stopping into the medical tent to check on Larry and the rest of that unlucky team. He supposed that's what a good foreman woulddo, what a nice guy would do. But Layne wasn't a nice guy, and although he was a good leader he needed rest like all the other good leaders. So he moved past the medical tent and only stopped when he reached his own. Pushing back the flaps and flicking the unlit cigar into the night, Layne entered his home. His sleeping bag lay half folded, collapsed into a lump, just as he had left it when he scrambled out just an hour or so before. Grunting,Layne smoothed it flat and prepared to clamber in. Aside from the quiet whisper of the generator in the med. tent, the forest was completely quiet. It was almost eerie Layne mused. Something should be making some noise. But nothing was, and although he could see the pine needles swaying, the wind was as silent as the light of the moon. Layne roughly closed the tent flaps with another grunt. He should be grateful it was quiet. Easier to sleep that way. Surprisingly, the inside of the sleeping bag was still warm; his body heat had not yet completely dissipated, which was nice. As Layne stretched his large frame, he let out a sigh. His muscles didn't ache much tonight despite the long day and the hours of labor. Of course, there were the twinges and snaps and creaks that came with age, but those were to be expected. He wasn't exactly the youngest buck in the herd anymore. But he was stillthe leader and he still reigned supreme where it mattered. He rubbed his hands over his eyes and scratched the skin beneath the scruffy beard. Why was he still awake? Muttering a light curse, Layne turned over on his side, pulling the bag over as much of his body as he could. He couldn't wait for this job to be over. A few minutes and four curses later, Layne was busy dreaming of his large hands wrapping themselves around and squeezing the neck of that bureaucratic prick Dawson. At the same time, on the floorboard of the truck, the pile of rope uncoiled itself into a line, and began to move. It slid out of the truck, landing with a small thump on the forest floor, wriggling a moment before becoming still. Pausing as if to gather its bearings, it slowlybegan to move, exploring, ready to strike at any danger, any threat. It was unhappy and confused and it didn't like or understand what was going on. But it was an instinctive creature, and it knew nothing else. For better or for worse, this place was its new home. It would put up a mean fight to defend itself and its new surroundings.