Date: 1/2/1998 3:43 PM Central Standard Time
From: Bob Braxxx
Robert came down from his position as the hours passed and the men rested. It had been an effect move to get the men to switch between cutting and pulling guard for it kept their eyes sharp and bodies warm. He would have to see about providing the men with the mechanical tools that Josey and the other used. Why hack at a tree when a piece of motorized steel did twice the work in a third of the time.
Besides, the motor driven tools seemed to be just as an imposing weapon.
As Robert moved around the encampment he paused to give the men a few encouraging words and to banter with them a bit. They were not bad fellows, men like himself looking to feed their families and try and make a buck. Each of them had a very down home comforting attitude that Robert remembered from his days back home.
After seeing that his men were in good spirits Robert surveyed the land around him. His arms folded slowly about him as his head swiveled one way to another. No longer did tall trees completely surround him, but mere stumps of the former towering hulks were now present as well. He had grown up in the country and appreciated the simple beauty of the wood and felt a touch of remorse that the place had to be leveled.
Still, he knew that people needed the trees. The chairs and tables that were broken nightly in the Outback and the other various Inn's had to come from somewhere. People didn't seem to think twice about writing long drawn out missives on the Outback kiosk. Each activity and so many more used up trees. Robert heaved a shrug; he wasn't much of a man for thinking of the economy but he did understand simple supply and demand. If people demanded it they
would pay. Better the money made from felling the trees go into his pocket then sog through the muddy fields of Alabama and some of the other southern states he and his men had been forced to trudge through. His eyes peered around as he tried to see just who was watching him. The instinct had not been used in a long time but it was as keen as ever. He felt…he knew something had to be out there.
However, as his eyes moved, he couldn't see anything. Tempted as he was to shrug it off, he could not. He hadn't survived this long by ignoring his instincts. He moved back to the encampment and looked over his men. He was tempted to tell them to look sharp, but if he alerted them without good cause it would make them far too jumpy. Robert knew jumpy men were men who didn't concentrate on cutting trees and thus remained silent.
"Okay boys," Robert gave his best smile. "Back to business, we pick up the pace a little I know a good watering hole and the first round is on me!" Enticed by a means to quench their thirst and to simply have the day's activities done, the men grabbed their tools and hopped to work.
Once again withdrawing the small device from his pocket Robert pulled it open. "Dialing," as Josey told him it was called, he entered the number for Jenkins. The phone gave its familiar rings and then a voice came forward. Instead of it being the rugged voice of Jenkins it was the nasal pitched voice of some female. "Mr. Jenkins office..." the women fairly screeched while some popping sound went on in the background. Robert pulled back and frowned
at the device for he was sure he must be talking to Jenkins' elderly mother.
"This is Robert Braxxx, may I speak to Jenkins please?" There was a deep sigh on the other end of the phone before it responded. "Mr. Jenkins is currently unavailable may I take a message?" The tone bespoke that the woman didn't care if God himself was on the phone, Jenkins would be getting a message and that was it. No mood to argue, Robert simply replied, "You know my name, tell Jenkins it's time to talk."
With the push of a button, the conversation ended.
Trees fall down, go boom!
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/2/1998 10:04 PM Central Standard Time
From: Goldglo
As Goon and the rest left the Outback, Matt turned and moved back into the small room. He had been surprised to see Destre here this early, especially looking as if she had spent the night. Shutting off the small display terminal, he allowed the rest of the machine to continue its calculations and data processing. Making sure to shut the door, Matt made his way down the stairs and through the Outback doors. His artificial eye dilated a bit as
he scanned the streets for Goon's husky form. They were moving quickly, already two blocks ahead, which was fine by him. Destre had nearly caught them all by now and had slowed to a light jog. About the time she reached them one of the group, Jammer, he surmised, split off and headed in another direction. Torn between whom to follow, Matt strode forward through the streets of RhyDin. If this was a patrol and if he was in combat, procedure
dictated he should follow the lone bogey, for it would be easier to eliminate. But, having never been one to stick to the rulebook, and since this wasn't combat after all, Matt decided to follow the larger group, at a safe distance of course. Besides, he had no intentions of eliminating anyone or anything. He didn't know what was going on and he wanted to remain undetected, at least for now. So as the group led, he followed, watching and waiting.
He had a feeling that the peace and quiet he had been looking for was now gone. What replaced it, well, that was yet to be determined.
From: Goldglo
As Goon and the rest left the Outback, Matt turned and moved back into the small room. He had been surprised to see Destre here this early, especially looking as if she had spent the night. Shutting off the small display terminal, he allowed the rest of the machine to continue its calculations and data processing. Making sure to shut the door, Matt made his way down the stairs and through the Outback doors. His artificial eye dilated a bit as
he scanned the streets for Goon's husky form. They were moving quickly, already two blocks ahead, which was fine by him. Destre had nearly caught them all by now and had slowed to a light jog. About the time she reached them one of the group, Jammer, he surmised, split off and headed in another direction. Torn between whom to follow, Matt strode forward through the streets of RhyDin. If this was a patrol and if he was in combat, procedure
dictated he should follow the lone bogey, for it would be easier to eliminate. But, having never been one to stick to the rulebook, and since this wasn't combat after all, Matt decided to follow the larger group, at a safe distance of course. Besides, he had no intentions of eliminating anyone or anything. He didn't know what was going on and he wanted to remain undetected, at least for now. So as the group led, he followed, watching and waiting.
He had a feeling that the peace and quiet he had been looking for was now gone. What replaced it, well, that was yet to be determined.
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/2/1998 10:09 PM Central Standard Time
From: TreeFellr
Layne was tempted…very very tempted, to tell Mr. Dawson just how he could go about obtaining the triple yield he wanted, but managed to restrain himself. Night was fast approaching, and although they were on schedule…check that, they had been on schedule. Now, they had triple the work to do in nearly the same amount of time. That meant hiring more people, shipping them up here…Layne cursed. This was not his favorite operation, to say the
least. And what was this business about five of Dawson's "personal" men coming to observe things? Layne shook his head. He didn't quite know what Dawson had in mind but he figured that it probably wasn't real good for his job security.
Gingerly placing the phone down on the table in front of him (for he feared breaking it if he acted as he wanted) Layne once again moved outdoors. The drizzle had remained steady but heavy rain didn't seem to be an immediate danger. Darkness, however, was quickly approaching and the men were beginning to store the equipment for use the next day. The final truck shipments would be departing in the next few minutes and he knew that some of his
men were busy securing the payloads onto the big diesels.
Coughing, and dreaming of how a few shots of whiskey would do wonders for him, Layne barked orders at men here and there; he wanted to be sure everything was extremely secure tonight. God knows Dawson's men would probably be hunting for every little nit-picky detail that indicated he wasn't doing his job properly. But Layne was a smart man and he knew how to run a logging operation, or, at the very least, make it look like he was running one.
But, to be honest, he thought he was doing a rather good job this time and despite the chill and the long hours, the men remained in fairly good spirits. He knew he'd feel a lot better once Braxxx's team returned to camp; that whole issue had probably sparked Dawson's sudden over-interest in this particular operation. He planned on having a nice long talk with Mr. Braxxx once he got back to camp so he could figure out just what in God's name was
going on around here. Braxxx had wanted to speak to him on the phone but Layne felt a good face to face would prove more fruitful. Layne hated being in the dark and he had a feeling that Braxxx could enlighten him a bit on an issue or two. Besides, he would be better able to judge things if he talked to Braxxx in person. He was also pretty sure that Dawson's men wouldn't be the talkative sort, but one never knew…maybe they were just coming to
tell him what a swell job he was doing and to keep up the good work.
Leaning against the stump of a recently cut tree, Layne mused over these things. Inhaling deeply, he let the smell of machinery, damp trees, and sawdust flow into his nostrils. He loved the smell of the forest, especially when it was like this. Made a man feel alive. Seeing two men milling around not doing anything productive, Layne kicked himself away from the stump and launched into one of his infamous tirades. The work never ended, it
seemed, and he'd make sure these two men learned that lesson well.
From: TreeFellr
Layne was tempted…very very tempted, to tell Mr. Dawson just how he could go about obtaining the triple yield he wanted, but managed to restrain himself. Night was fast approaching, and although they were on schedule…check that, they had been on schedule. Now, they had triple the work to do in nearly the same amount of time. That meant hiring more people, shipping them up here…Layne cursed. This was not his favorite operation, to say the
least. And what was this business about five of Dawson's "personal" men coming to observe things? Layne shook his head. He didn't quite know what Dawson had in mind but he figured that it probably wasn't real good for his job security.
Gingerly placing the phone down on the table in front of him (for he feared breaking it if he acted as he wanted) Layne once again moved outdoors. The drizzle had remained steady but heavy rain didn't seem to be an immediate danger. Darkness, however, was quickly approaching and the men were beginning to store the equipment for use the next day. The final truck shipments would be departing in the next few minutes and he knew that some of his
men were busy securing the payloads onto the big diesels.
Coughing, and dreaming of how a few shots of whiskey would do wonders for him, Layne barked orders at men here and there; he wanted to be sure everything was extremely secure tonight. God knows Dawson's men would probably be hunting for every little nit-picky detail that indicated he wasn't doing his job properly. But Layne was a smart man and he knew how to run a logging operation, or, at the very least, make it look like he was running one.
But, to be honest, he thought he was doing a rather good job this time and despite the chill and the long hours, the men remained in fairly good spirits. He knew he'd feel a lot better once Braxxx's team returned to camp; that whole issue had probably sparked Dawson's sudden over-interest in this particular operation. He planned on having a nice long talk with Mr. Braxxx once he got back to camp so he could figure out just what in God's name was
going on around here. Braxxx had wanted to speak to him on the phone but Layne felt a good face to face would prove more fruitful. Layne hated being in the dark and he had a feeling that Braxxx could enlighten him a bit on an issue or two. Besides, he would be better able to judge things if he talked to Braxxx in person. He was also pretty sure that Dawson's men wouldn't be the talkative sort, but one never knew…maybe they were just coming to
tell him what a swell job he was doing and to keep up the good work.
Leaning against the stump of a recently cut tree, Layne mused over these things. Inhaling deeply, he let the smell of machinery, damp trees, and sawdust flow into his nostrils. He loved the smell of the forest, especially when it was like this. Made a man feel alive. Seeing two men milling around not doing anything productive, Layne kicked himself away from the stump and launched into one of his infamous tirades. The work never ended, it
seemed, and he'd make sure these two men learned that lesson well.
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/2/1998 10:10 PM Central Standard Time
From: SpifyMcBng
((Quick note- We won't be finding Goon's house in this. Main reason- he doesn't have one. Back to the story.))
"Q lady! Low man!" Goon grinned happily as the troops assembled. Ears perking, he turned as footsteps came quickly behind him. "Jammer man, what matter?" was all Goon could ask, not sure at all what had Ryan so flustered. Carefully, he listened to the tale he was told, believing Ryan completely despite having no idea how he knew any of it.
The big jaw nearly hit the ground. "Bobo man hurt tree?!", Goon asked rather loudly, stunned at the news. His mind was moving half a mile a minute as he processed all the new information. Men were cutting down trees. Bob was telling the men to cut down the trees. But why? What would get him to do such a thing? Goon puzzled over what reasons his boss would have for chopping down his home.
Pounding the sides of his head with his fists, Goon howled loudly, both to release the stress of thinking and to ready himself for a possible fight. With a hearty "Time fighter people go! Time stop tree from be hurt!", the enormous man (yes, man) pounded off in the direction of the loggers, determined to stop them.. and not even turning around to see if the other three were following him.
From: SpifyMcBng
((Quick note- We won't be finding Goon's house in this. Main reason- he doesn't have one. Back to the story.))
"Q lady! Low man!" Goon grinned happily as the troops assembled. Ears perking, he turned as footsteps came quickly behind him. "Jammer man, what matter?" was all Goon could ask, not sure at all what had Ryan so flustered. Carefully, he listened to the tale he was told, believing Ryan completely despite having no idea how he knew any of it.
The big jaw nearly hit the ground. "Bobo man hurt tree?!", Goon asked rather loudly, stunned at the news. His mind was moving half a mile a minute as he processed all the new information. Men were cutting down trees. Bob was telling the men to cut down the trees. But why? What would get him to do such a thing? Goon puzzled over what reasons his boss would have for chopping down his home.
Pounding the sides of his head with his fists, Goon howled loudly, both to release the stress of thinking and to ready himself for a possible fight. With a hearty "Time fighter people go! Time stop tree from be hurt!", the enormous man (yes, man) pounded off in the direction of the loggers, determined to stop them.. and not even turning around to see if the other three were following him.
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/2/1998 11:57 PM Central Standard Time
From: JLohman711
After hearing Ryan explain what was happening, Jack started wondering himself why Bob, Mr. Boss man, was doing what he was. Jack quickly started running again, following Goon and the others.
From: JLohman711
After hearing Ryan explain what was happening, Jack started wondering himself why Bob, Mr. Boss man, was doing what he was. Jack quickly started running again, following Goon and the others.
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/3/1998 2:45 PM Central Standard Time
From: SpifyMcBng
Stomp, stomp, stomp. The footsteps drowned out the noise his companions made walking as they headed for the logging site. As Goon's hazy vision adjusted to the dark of the lands around the forest, he stopped suddenly. Where were the trees? Squinting, he noticed that now only short stumps remained. No..they couldn't have hacked away all those trees.. not in one day.. could they?
Pushing onward, the group neared the area the loggers had moved off to, seeing stump after stump along the way. These guys were efficient, fast, and if Goon had known what kind of damage they would have done after he left, he would have tried to run them off right then and there.
The realization of that fact set in, slowly but surely, and Goon felt worse and worse about letting the loggers stay while he went for help. Maybe, in the past, he would have just dropped to the ground in shock, blaming himself for what happened. But this was the present, and he had learned over time that just because he felt responsible for something bad happening didn't mean that he was the only reason it happened. If they hadn't come here, none
of this would have occured.
All this thinking about it got Goon more and more angry at the men loading lumber in the distance. Although, strategically, it might have been better to let them tire themselves out more before striking, the hulking man wanted to make sure that they left and never came back. And he wanted to do it NOW.
As his screams of rage echoed throughout the forest, what was left of it, Goon charged off at high speed to confront the loggers. Hopefully, everyone could keep up..but that didn't matter now. All that mattered was making them go.
From: SpifyMcBng
Stomp, stomp, stomp. The footsteps drowned out the noise his companions made walking as they headed for the logging site. As Goon's hazy vision adjusted to the dark of the lands around the forest, he stopped suddenly. Where were the trees? Squinting, he noticed that now only short stumps remained. No..they couldn't have hacked away all those trees.. not in one day.. could they?
Pushing onward, the group neared the area the loggers had moved off to, seeing stump after stump along the way. These guys were efficient, fast, and if Goon had known what kind of damage they would have done after he left, he would have tried to run them off right then and there.
The realization of that fact set in, slowly but surely, and Goon felt worse and worse about letting the loggers stay while he went for help. Maybe, in the past, he would have just dropped to the ground in shock, blaming himself for what happened. But this was the present, and he had learned over time that just because he felt responsible for something bad happening didn't mean that he was the only reason it happened. If they hadn't come here, none
of this would have occured.
All this thinking about it got Goon more and more angry at the men loading lumber in the distance. Although, strategically, it might have been better to let them tire themselves out more before striking, the hulking man wanted to make sure that they left and never came back. And he wanted to do it NOW.
As his screams of rage echoed throughout the forest, what was left of it, Goon charged off at high speed to confront the loggers. Hopefully, everyone could keep up..but that didn't matter now. All that mattered was making them go.
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/3/1998 6:41 PM Central Standard Time
From: TreeFellr
The equipment had been replaced for the evening and only Teams Three and Five had yet to return to the camp. Dawson's men had not yet arrived and probably wouldn't for another hour or two. Most of the men were in the mess tent eating whatever God-awful things had been provided for dinner. Layne wasn't hungry, not yet anyhow. And if his stomach rumbled later, well, he had a few things stashed away in his gear to satisfy that.
His ears picking up on a noise, Layne shifted his stance and looked down the road; two bright lights greeted him and the noise increased as they approached. He nodded slightly and strode out to meet the truck. Now he was only missing one team, and whichever one was still out there would get yelled at if they didn't hurry up and get back to the camp.
The big truck rumbled to a halt and then was silent as the engine turned off, a few final tendrils of smoke drafting up into the air from the exhaust pipe. The cab doors opened and Layne watched as Braxxx emerged, the rest of his team hopping down from the flatbed, all looking somewhat tired. Layne stroked his beard, glancing over the amount of logs resting on the truck; it looked like a good day's haul. Braxxx glanced his way, his expression
not one of a happy man, and began to walk towards the foreman. Layne remained where he was as Braxxx covered the distance between them. It was time for their little chat to begin.
From: TreeFellr
The equipment had been replaced for the evening and only Teams Three and Five had yet to return to the camp. Dawson's men had not yet arrived and probably wouldn't for another hour or two. Most of the men were in the mess tent eating whatever God-awful things had been provided for dinner. Layne wasn't hungry, not yet anyhow. And if his stomach rumbled later, well, he had a few things stashed away in his gear to satisfy that.
His ears picking up on a noise, Layne shifted his stance and looked down the road; two bright lights greeted him and the noise increased as they approached. He nodded slightly and strode out to meet the truck. Now he was only missing one team, and whichever one was still out there would get yelled at if they didn't hurry up and get back to the camp.
The big truck rumbled to a halt and then was silent as the engine turned off, a few final tendrils of smoke drafting up into the air from the exhaust pipe. The cab doors opened and Layne watched as Braxxx emerged, the rest of his team hopping down from the flatbed, all looking somewhat tired. Layne stroked his beard, glancing over the amount of logs resting on the truck; it looked like a good day's haul. Braxxx glanced his way, his expression
not one of a happy man, and began to walk towards the foreman. Layne remained where he was as Braxxx covered the distance between them. It was time for their little chat to begin.
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/3/1998 9:57 PM Central Standard Time
From: RDI Ringo
Ringo decided to leave Bob a message on his answering machine. He had just gotten off the phone with the people at the sawmill. They told him they had not received the wood from a 'Mr. Braxxx' yet.
Ringo listened to Bob's little opening message. It was a little peculiar. He could have sworn he had heard a sheep in the background. He didn't have much time to ponder that as the beep came quickly.
" Hey, Bob..... It's Ringo. I just got off the phone with the sawmill. They said you've been held up lately by some environmentalist 'tree-huggers'....
I don't want to put the screws to ya Bob, but I need you to get that wood to the sawmill so I can get my lumber. I'm on a tight schedule... Houses don't build themselves you know...
Give me a call when you get this, Bob. You have my number...
Bye..."
From: RDI Ringo
Ringo decided to leave Bob a message on his answering machine. He had just gotten off the phone with the people at the sawmill. They told him they had not received the wood from a 'Mr. Braxxx' yet.
Ringo listened to Bob's little opening message. It was a little peculiar. He could have sworn he had heard a sheep in the background. He didn't have much time to ponder that as the beep came quickly.
" Hey, Bob..... It's Ringo. I just got off the phone with the sawmill. They said you've been held up lately by some environmentalist 'tree-huggers'....
I don't want to put the screws to ya Bob, but I need you to get that wood to the sawmill so I can get my lumber. I'm on a tight schedule... Houses don't build themselves you know...
Give me a call when you get this, Bob. You have my number...
Bye..."
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/4/1998 3:29 AM Central Standard Time
From: TreeFellr
Layne's chat with Braxxx had gone rather well, better than he had expected anyhow. At least he knew the name of this bigfoot; what kind of name was Goon, anyway? It didn't matter really; Mr. Dawson would probably be able to find out. Layne picked up the phone and dialed the number. Yes, it was late but he knew Dawson's people were there until all hours trying to get everything perfect. But he didn't need to talk to a person-automation was
such a wonderful thing. When the answering machine picked up he punched in a number and was linked with Mr. Dawson's personal line. When prompted, Layne spoke, giving all the details he knew, figuring Dawson could figure out some clever way to use them.
After setting down the phone, Layne stepped outside. It was dark now; night was upon them. Most of the men were losing their pay in poker games; the wiser ones had gone to sleep. He fit somewhere in the middle. His flannel buttoned, but untucked, Layne walked past the mounds and stumps where tall trees had stood not twenty-four hours before, stopping at the new perimeter of the forest. Inhaling deeply, Layne realized that the air was
different in this forest than in others he had worked in. Somehow, it seemed cleaner, purer, to his lungs.
A sound disturbed him and he whirled around, relaxing when he saw it was one of his own men, Jacobs, who had pulled first watch. They spoke for a few moments, and Jacobs moved on, leaving Layne alone once again. Light rain fell steadily and Layne ran a hand through his damp hair while moving past the treeline. The emerald needles of the pines showed their colors even through the darkness, enticing him to walk deeper. Fallen needles and rotted
bark crunched softly underneath his boots, making a sound like few others.
If Layne had been a philosopher or a thinking man, he knew this was the place where his greatest thinking would be done. Occasionally, an animal would make a noise, a night owl probably, reminding him that life had a place here, too. This was nature at its best and brightest, unhindered by people, by man. Sometimes, Layne was jealous of Nature, for it knew not love, or hurt, or pain, neither sadness nor joy, pride or pleasure. And if Nature
did perceive these things, he'd rather not know about it. For there was life elsewhere too, life that did feel these things, and more. Somewhere, he had to believe, existed a place that was lucky enough to escape all that and in his mind, places like this were it. But that was not the life he lived; he lived a life where he needed to eat, where people demanded he cut this and chop that while some condemned him for it and others would kill him for
it. Layne didn't believe himself to be a bad person. Rather, he did what needed to be done--a thankless job in an equally thankless world. He may have had no family to support, but others did, and this was how they made their living. Not everyone agreed with what they did, but those people usually had a secure job, nice homes, and the typical Norman Rockwell family. Either that or they were just plain whacko. This job was hard enough without
anyone trying to make it any harder, and he refused to tolerate any more than absolutely necessary. He did what he had to do to survive, and he was absolutely sure that his survival was more important than that of some tree. People shouldn't die over a tree…life was too important, too precious, to throw it away over something so trivial. But some didn't see things in quite that way--some people would kill, and be killed, so the tree might live on;
that was something Layne would never understand.
Uttering a soft curse, Layne turned and moved back into the camp, heading for his tent. He didn't like thinking too much; he hadn't been born for it. His body was made for work, and that's exactly what it did. And they had a lot of work to do tomorrow, especially if Dawson was serious about this triple yield. Layne closed his eyes, letting the sleeping bag mold itself around his big husky frame and hoping he would dream of that place--the
place without the joy, without the pain, and without everything else in between.
From: TreeFellr
Layne's chat with Braxxx had gone rather well, better than he had expected anyhow. At least he knew the name of this bigfoot; what kind of name was Goon, anyway? It didn't matter really; Mr. Dawson would probably be able to find out. Layne picked up the phone and dialed the number. Yes, it was late but he knew Dawson's people were there until all hours trying to get everything perfect. But he didn't need to talk to a person-automation was
such a wonderful thing. When the answering machine picked up he punched in a number and was linked with Mr. Dawson's personal line. When prompted, Layne spoke, giving all the details he knew, figuring Dawson could figure out some clever way to use them.
After setting down the phone, Layne stepped outside. It was dark now; night was upon them. Most of the men were losing their pay in poker games; the wiser ones had gone to sleep. He fit somewhere in the middle. His flannel buttoned, but untucked, Layne walked past the mounds and stumps where tall trees had stood not twenty-four hours before, stopping at the new perimeter of the forest. Inhaling deeply, Layne realized that the air was
different in this forest than in others he had worked in. Somehow, it seemed cleaner, purer, to his lungs.
A sound disturbed him and he whirled around, relaxing when he saw it was one of his own men, Jacobs, who had pulled first watch. They spoke for a few moments, and Jacobs moved on, leaving Layne alone once again. Light rain fell steadily and Layne ran a hand through his damp hair while moving past the treeline. The emerald needles of the pines showed their colors even through the darkness, enticing him to walk deeper. Fallen needles and rotted
bark crunched softly underneath his boots, making a sound like few others.
If Layne had been a philosopher or a thinking man, he knew this was the place where his greatest thinking would be done. Occasionally, an animal would make a noise, a night owl probably, reminding him that life had a place here, too. This was nature at its best and brightest, unhindered by people, by man. Sometimes, Layne was jealous of Nature, for it knew not love, or hurt, or pain, neither sadness nor joy, pride or pleasure. And if Nature
did perceive these things, he'd rather not know about it. For there was life elsewhere too, life that did feel these things, and more. Somewhere, he had to believe, existed a place that was lucky enough to escape all that and in his mind, places like this were it. But that was not the life he lived; he lived a life where he needed to eat, where people demanded he cut this and chop that while some condemned him for it and others would kill him for
it. Layne didn't believe himself to be a bad person. Rather, he did what needed to be done--a thankless job in an equally thankless world. He may have had no family to support, but others did, and this was how they made their living. Not everyone agreed with what they did, but those people usually had a secure job, nice homes, and the typical Norman Rockwell family. Either that or they were just plain whacko. This job was hard enough without
anyone trying to make it any harder, and he refused to tolerate any more than absolutely necessary. He did what he had to do to survive, and he was absolutely sure that his survival was more important than that of some tree. People shouldn't die over a tree…life was too important, too precious, to throw it away over something so trivial. But some didn't see things in quite that way--some people would kill, and be killed, so the tree might live on;
that was something Layne would never understand.
Uttering a soft curse, Layne turned and moved back into the camp, heading for his tent. He didn't like thinking too much; he hadn't been born for it. His body was made for work, and that's exactly what it did. And they had a lot of work to do tomorrow, especially if Dawson was serious about this triple yield. Layne closed his eyes, letting the sleeping bag mold itself around his big husky frame and hoping he would dream of that place--the
place without the joy, without the pain, and without everything else in between.
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/6/1998 10:59 PM Central Standard Time
From: SpifyMcBng
The loggers loomed closer as the feet pounded the shadowed grass into submission. They were all kicking and swearing their truck, trying to get a spare tire on it so they could get out of the chilly night. Apparently, no one noticed the less-than-stealthy approach. Goon slammed a couple of loggers out of the way with blunt backhands before making it to the vehicle itself, scaring off a couple more shocked men on the way.
Yanking on the back of the truck, Goon nearly tumbled himself backwards as he tore the fender off with relative ease. Once he regained his balance, and realized what the large piece of metal in his hands was (namely, a large, blunt object), he started swinging it around wildly, the bumper threatening to crack a few bones. Seeing himself surrounded, Goon started yelling, his passive side straining to keep him from leaving a pile of unconscious men
in his wake.
"Where tree chop people go?! Where head tree chop people?! Why hurt tree?" Goon's deep voice echoed through the nearby forest, his demands serious, despite sounding rather odd. Hopefully, someone would figure out what he meant..if not, one of the people that came with Goon needed to hurry up and translate, before a few concussions were handed out.
From: SpifyMcBng
The loggers loomed closer as the feet pounded the shadowed grass into submission. They were all kicking and swearing their truck, trying to get a spare tire on it so they could get out of the chilly night. Apparently, no one noticed the less-than-stealthy approach. Goon slammed a couple of loggers out of the way with blunt backhands before making it to the vehicle itself, scaring off a couple more shocked men on the way.
Yanking on the back of the truck, Goon nearly tumbled himself backwards as he tore the fender off with relative ease. Once he regained his balance, and realized what the large piece of metal in his hands was (namely, a large, blunt object), he started swinging it around wildly, the bumper threatening to crack a few bones. Seeing himself surrounded, Goon started yelling, his passive side straining to keep him from leaving a pile of unconscious men
in his wake.
"Where tree chop people go?! Where head tree chop people?! Why hurt tree?" Goon's deep voice echoed through the nearby forest, his demands serious, despite sounding rather odd. Hopefully, someone would figure out what he meant..if not, one of the people that came with Goon needed to hurry up and translate, before a few concussions were handed out.
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/2/1998 11:55 PM Central Standard Time
From: Mr Sumgi
When he got to a hotel to stay for the night, he was still pondering over what he should do about the situation over the forest. He wanted to do something to help, but what could he do? He was a golfer, he hadn't the slightest idea about protesting, whether it be peacefully or violently. Sumgi pondered this as he slept what he could sleep.
When he woke up, he decided that he would help in whatever way he could think of. Grabbing his rusty 1 iron, he headed to the Outback in hopes of finding Goon, or someone else who was in support of his feelings. On his way, he had visions of the glorious victory against the selfish men, and of heartbreaking failure, more about victory though. He continued to dream, becoming even more entusiastic as he saw the double doors of his
favorite place in all of what was known to him in Rhydin.
But as he opened the doors, his hopes were dismayed, when he saw the empty outback. He figured they would be back later in the afternoon, so he decided to wait. Still no one. He could not wait any longer, not with all the energy he had saved. He knew he still had to do something to at least slow down the men, but he was very afraid to do it alone. He only had a rusty 1 iron as a weapon, while the others had axes that could easily
chop hit club like a bananna. He decided to leave some sort of message for the others, but he had no paper, nor any writing utencils. The only idea he had was to leave something so they would know he was there. So he reached into his pocket, pulled out a yellow golf ball, and placed it on the bar. He knew they would know he was there, because he knew that he was the only one into golf in Rhydin, unless there was someone else he didn't know. Feeling
confident, yet restless, he swung open the Outback's double-doors and headed back to the hotel.
From: Mr Sumgi
When he got to a hotel to stay for the night, he was still pondering over what he should do about the situation over the forest. He wanted to do something to help, but what could he do? He was a golfer, he hadn't the slightest idea about protesting, whether it be peacefully or violently. Sumgi pondered this as he slept what he could sleep.
When he woke up, he decided that he would help in whatever way he could think of. Grabbing his rusty 1 iron, he headed to the Outback in hopes of finding Goon, or someone else who was in support of his feelings. On his way, he had visions of the glorious victory against the selfish men, and of heartbreaking failure, more about victory though. He continued to dream, becoming even more entusiastic as he saw the double doors of his
favorite place in all of what was known to him in Rhydin.
But as he opened the doors, his hopes were dismayed, when he saw the empty outback. He figured they would be back later in the afternoon, so he decided to wait. Still no one. He could not wait any longer, not with all the energy he had saved. He knew he still had to do something to at least slow down the men, but he was very afraid to do it alone. He only had a rusty 1 iron as a weapon, while the others had axes that could easily
chop hit club like a bananna. He decided to leave some sort of message for the others, but he had no paper, nor any writing utencils. The only idea he had was to leave something so they would know he was there. So he reached into his pocket, pulled out a yellow golf ball, and placed it on the bar. He knew they would know he was there, because he knew that he was the only one into golf in Rhydin, unless there was someone else he didn't know. Feeling
confident, yet restless, he swung open the Outback's double-doors and headed back to the hotel.
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/3/1998 1:54 AM Central Standard Time
From: DoraeRasta
There was a light streak running through the forest. A dark skinned woman dressed in yellow with a red sash billowing from her side atop a large horse sporting the same colorings, pale yellow with flecks of red in its coat. There were no traditional riding trappings on the horse, the woman sat on the horses back, on a dark rag, as ifsitting at home comfortably upon a couch. The horses dinner plate sized hooves seemed not to touch the ground as the four legs turned and crunched things beneath them, eyes wild and determined. Jumping over logs and bogs and creeks and rocks, this horse made other horses look fragile. The two traveled in search of something, in search of some sound that seemed to threaten the very being of the earth itself. The pair had no idea what they would find, only knew it had to be found.WHRRRR..... They were getting closer. The sound was larger, louder and even more threatening than when originally heard down by the woman's small home. With a shift in weight and a soft word, the woman urged the horse down to a trot, then to a walk. Wind whipped dark curls framed her face and violet eyes were intent on their sweep of the immediate vicinity. Voices could be heard now, but it was hard to decipher if theywere male, female or other and of what the talk might be about over the din of the foreign sound. Serpented hands flexed and curled around the horse's translucent yellow mane, anxious about what exactly is going on and eager to have a live practice partner for her training. Mother forgive her thinking like that, but if they truly are evil folk, then deserve her training in earnest they will. Another shift in her body and the pale horse comes to a full stop, barely breathing hard as if the trip had been but a league instead of many. The woman slips off the horses back, grabbing at the thin dark rag as she goes and whispers to it to go back the way they had come, quietly and find a place to graze. The horse was an asset to her in some ways, but his coloring and size was a bit wrong for the forest. Nostrils flared and a soft warmbreath issued from its nose to warm her face, then turned and walked calmly back the way he had come. Violet eyes watched the great beast go and when he was out of sight, she turned to the direction she last heard the noise and voices, casually tossing the dark rag around her body to hide the yellow of her clothing. A light breeze distorted things a bit, fooling with the true direction. But she was patient and thus waited till the breeze abated and let her pinpoint the right place. This done, she moves forward on silent feet, knowing where to step so as not to snap a twig or crunch a leaf. Slipping from tree to tree, a bit more cautiously than she needed at this time, since what she would find was still a good distance from her. The asp tatooed at the hollow of her throat itched and pulsed (as opposed to the hair on the back of her neck standing on end) and she had to fight the urge to scratch at it. Something was definately wrong, terribley wrong. The forest was too quiet. No birds chirping, no little forest animals scurrying here or there, no deer frolicking by. Death... it hung thick in the forest, draping over the trees to form a net that was inescapable. Notafraid to face death but respectful of the sceptre all the same, the woman offers up a prayer to her patron Goddess, asking for release to do as needed and perhaps be spared to live yet a little while longer. With a hiss and something that might be taken for a grin, the warrioress moves forward again, looking to help death fill its quota. The noise is deafening and followed intermittently by booms, shaking of the earth and surrounding foliage, and voices.... mens voices. Oh, this was too much this woman. Men have forever held a shard of glass over her heart, this would be too fulfilling if she found that men, yet again, plot dastardly schemes and take without asking. Violet eyes glitter dangerously and she moves to a spot between some heavy brush and makes a small hole to havea looksee at what might await her itching fingers......
Dorae "The Dangerous" Rasta
From: DoraeRasta
There was a light streak running through the forest. A dark skinned woman dressed in yellow with a red sash billowing from her side atop a large horse sporting the same colorings, pale yellow with flecks of red in its coat. There were no traditional riding trappings on the horse, the woman sat on the horses back, on a dark rag, as ifsitting at home comfortably upon a couch. The horses dinner plate sized hooves seemed not to touch the ground as the four legs turned and crunched things beneath them, eyes wild and determined. Jumping over logs and bogs and creeks and rocks, this horse made other horses look fragile. The two traveled in search of something, in search of some sound that seemed to threaten the very being of the earth itself. The pair had no idea what they would find, only knew it had to be found.WHRRRR..... They were getting closer. The sound was larger, louder and even more threatening than when originally heard down by the woman's small home. With a shift in weight and a soft word, the woman urged the horse down to a trot, then to a walk. Wind whipped dark curls framed her face and violet eyes were intent on their sweep of the immediate vicinity. Voices could be heard now, but it was hard to decipher if theywere male, female or other and of what the talk might be about over the din of the foreign sound. Serpented hands flexed and curled around the horse's translucent yellow mane, anxious about what exactly is going on and eager to have a live practice partner for her training. Mother forgive her thinking like that, but if they truly are evil folk, then deserve her training in earnest they will. Another shift in her body and the pale horse comes to a full stop, barely breathing hard as if the trip had been but a league instead of many. The woman slips off the horses back, grabbing at the thin dark rag as she goes and whispers to it to go back the way they had come, quietly and find a place to graze. The horse was an asset to her in some ways, but his coloring and size was a bit wrong for the forest. Nostrils flared and a soft warmbreath issued from its nose to warm her face, then turned and walked calmly back the way he had come. Violet eyes watched the great beast go and when he was out of sight, she turned to the direction she last heard the noise and voices, casually tossing the dark rag around her body to hide the yellow of her clothing. A light breeze distorted things a bit, fooling with the true direction. But she was patient and thus waited till the breeze abated and let her pinpoint the right place. This done, she moves forward on silent feet, knowing where to step so as not to snap a twig or crunch a leaf. Slipping from tree to tree, a bit more cautiously than she needed at this time, since what she would find was still a good distance from her. The asp tatooed at the hollow of her throat itched and pulsed (as opposed to the hair on the back of her neck standing on end) and she had to fight the urge to scratch at it. Something was definately wrong, terribley wrong. The forest was too quiet. No birds chirping, no little forest animals scurrying here or there, no deer frolicking by. Death... it hung thick in the forest, draping over the trees to form a net that was inescapable. Notafraid to face death but respectful of the sceptre all the same, the woman offers up a prayer to her patron Goddess, asking for release to do as needed and perhaps be spared to live yet a little while longer. With a hiss and something that might be taken for a grin, the warrioress moves forward again, looking to help death fill its quota. The noise is deafening and followed intermittently by booms, shaking of the earth and surrounding foliage, and voices.... mens voices. Oh, this was too much this woman. Men have forever held a shard of glass over her heart, this would be too fulfilling if she found that men, yet again, plot dastardly schemes and take without asking. Violet eyes glitter dangerously and she moves to a spot between some heavy brush and makes a small hole to havea looksee at what might await her itching fingers......
Dorae "The Dangerous" Rasta
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/3/1998 1:40 PM Central Standard Time
From: Bob Braxxx
As the cool breeze carried the light sheen of rain, darkness started to fall. Robert looked high into the sky as he saw the cloud cover and the sinking sun begin to signal the closure to a hard days work. It had been a successful afternoon. The men had worked in high spirits and had even managed some light banter over the hum of the machines and steady thumping of axes.
Robert himself had refrained from picking up an axe and joining in. Cold as he was he still could not shake the nagging feeling of being watched. While it had gone away briefly it returned not but a short time later. Robert cursed his own senses and whatever the hell was out there. He would like nothing better then to go find what was stalking him and teach whatever it was a lesson or two about confrontation. As Robert's eyes scanned and ears
listened to the forest yet he still was not able to find his stalker. Thinking a bit more Robert muttered to himself "Or is it stalkers?"
His head shaking to clear his mind he focused on the task at hand. "Damn forest air has mind my brain addled." He quietly chastised himself. It was important to keep his wits sharp and not jump at ever broken twig nor shadow in the distance. Goon had not been seen and whatever the hell else was in the woods didn't matter. If eyes were watching they were being treated to a wonderfully handled operation. If they weren't here to interrupt business then
they should damn well be taking notes.
'Mr. Braxxx?" The sound of Josey's voice shook Robert from his late afternoon musing. Turning to face his second he saw the clean sheen of sweat that hung on his brow. His features looked tired but he looked in high spirits as his broad face cracked a smile. "I think it's time to call the day sir. The men need to get the trees back to the truck and that will take us into the dark." While Robert knew all this himself and had been about to give the
order he knew he should build up Josey a little more. Nodding with a smile he gave a light punch to Josey's shoulder "Tell the men to cut the cutting and get to gathering Josey. It's time we saddled up and headed home." His face still holding the grin Josey nodded and whirled to face the other men passing the order around.
Robert paced around the work site as he watched the men begin the work of hauling the timber to the truck. Some of the men grumbled at why they had not been given better tools to perform this function but on they worked. Robert, not being a man of machinery himself had no clue what they could mean. Still he understood that there were things that could make his men more effective. In his future conversation with Jenkins he would have to discuss why
his men were denied the best tools.
Reaching into his pocket Robert withdrew the card Jenkins had left for him days before. The writing was simple, to the point, and without much fanfare. "Much like he man himself.." Robert mused as he stuffed the card back into his pocket.
As he made his way to the large glossy black diesel truck Robert almost withdrew his phone again. Jenkins had either refused to call him or the woman had not passed the note along. Either scenario did not please him at all. He resolved to have a light chat with Jenkins about effective communication in the work place. Robert was not a lumberman by trade, if he a question had arisen that would have stopped operations Robert and his men would have been
sitting on their arse's all day while the flannel god decided whether or not he should pick up the phone. The more Robert thought about it the more he got annoyed. He was positive that if something had gone wrong it would have been his error not Jenkins.
Shaking such thoughts from his head he sat in the cab of the truck. He was beginning to learn how to drive his own truck but had no idea how to work the complex range of gears before him. His position was more for warmth then function at the moment. Leaning forward he flipped a small switch that started up the radio. Robert had learned that this radio didn't play music but rather carried conversations between camp and the other grafts back and forth.
This seemed to serve a better function then a phone which he realized was limited in the amount of conversation it could carry. During their drive down Josey had explained how the "CB" functioned. Leaning forward he flipped the dials a bit to find the latest news.
As the men finished off Robert sat quietly in the cab listening to the other voices giving their reports. That nagging feeling still was there but unless he sent men to actively hunt the forest there wasn't much to be done. If there was to be another attack by Goon or whatever the hell else was out there they would have to do it in the coming night. "We aren't long for this place anyway. Another few hours and we will be home by the fire....."
From: Bob Braxxx
As the cool breeze carried the light sheen of rain, darkness started to fall. Robert looked high into the sky as he saw the cloud cover and the sinking sun begin to signal the closure to a hard days work. It had been a successful afternoon. The men had worked in high spirits and had even managed some light banter over the hum of the machines and steady thumping of axes.
Robert himself had refrained from picking up an axe and joining in. Cold as he was he still could not shake the nagging feeling of being watched. While it had gone away briefly it returned not but a short time later. Robert cursed his own senses and whatever the hell was out there. He would like nothing better then to go find what was stalking him and teach whatever it was a lesson or two about confrontation. As Robert's eyes scanned and ears
listened to the forest yet he still was not able to find his stalker. Thinking a bit more Robert muttered to himself "Or is it stalkers?"
His head shaking to clear his mind he focused on the task at hand. "Damn forest air has mind my brain addled." He quietly chastised himself. It was important to keep his wits sharp and not jump at ever broken twig nor shadow in the distance. Goon had not been seen and whatever the hell else was in the woods didn't matter. If eyes were watching they were being treated to a wonderfully handled operation. If they weren't here to interrupt business then
they should damn well be taking notes.
'Mr. Braxxx?" The sound of Josey's voice shook Robert from his late afternoon musing. Turning to face his second he saw the clean sheen of sweat that hung on his brow. His features looked tired but he looked in high spirits as his broad face cracked a smile. "I think it's time to call the day sir. The men need to get the trees back to the truck and that will take us into the dark." While Robert knew all this himself and had been about to give the
order he knew he should build up Josey a little more. Nodding with a smile he gave a light punch to Josey's shoulder "Tell the men to cut the cutting and get to gathering Josey. It's time we saddled up and headed home." His face still holding the grin Josey nodded and whirled to face the other men passing the order around.
Robert paced around the work site as he watched the men begin the work of hauling the timber to the truck. Some of the men grumbled at why they had not been given better tools to perform this function but on they worked. Robert, not being a man of machinery himself had no clue what they could mean. Still he understood that there were things that could make his men more effective. In his future conversation with Jenkins he would have to discuss why
his men were denied the best tools.
Reaching into his pocket Robert withdrew the card Jenkins had left for him days before. The writing was simple, to the point, and without much fanfare. "Much like he man himself.." Robert mused as he stuffed the card back into his pocket.
As he made his way to the large glossy black diesel truck Robert almost withdrew his phone again. Jenkins had either refused to call him or the woman had not passed the note along. Either scenario did not please him at all. He resolved to have a light chat with Jenkins about effective communication in the work place. Robert was not a lumberman by trade, if he a question had arisen that would have stopped operations Robert and his men would have been
sitting on their arse's all day while the flannel god decided whether or not he should pick up the phone. The more Robert thought about it the more he got annoyed. He was positive that if something had gone wrong it would have been his error not Jenkins.
Shaking such thoughts from his head he sat in the cab of the truck. He was beginning to learn how to drive his own truck but had no idea how to work the complex range of gears before him. His position was more for warmth then function at the moment. Leaning forward he flipped a small switch that started up the radio. Robert had learned that this radio didn't play music but rather carried conversations between camp and the other grafts back and forth.
This seemed to serve a better function then a phone which he realized was limited in the amount of conversation it could carry. During their drive down Josey had explained how the "CB" functioned. Leaning forward he flipped the dials a bit to find the latest news.
As the men finished off Robert sat quietly in the cab listening to the other voices giving their reports. That nagging feeling still was there but unless he sent men to actively hunt the forest there wasn't much to be done. If there was to be another attack by Goon or whatever the hell else was out there they would have to do it in the coming night. "We aren't long for this place anyway. Another few hours and we will be home by the fire....."
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/4/1998 12:19 AM Central Standard Time
From: DoraeRasta
Sandwiched in the brush and peering out of a small hole, Dorae sits and watches with amazement. Hardly breathing, her mind whirls trying to make sense of the scene in front of her. Many men are at laborously working over the trees. The loud machinery plus their brutish strength toppling the tall majestic guardians of the forest. Axes chop over at that tree, a man with the odd machinery works on yet another not too far from her. She watches half fascinated, half sickend at the scene. The man with the machinery yells something, muffled over by the din of whirring and creaking timber. The large tree takes its time infalling, making it seem an eternity before it hits the ground with a large boom and a shake of the earth. A low hiss escapes thin lips and her violet eyes flash dangerously as yet another and another tree falls to its death. The place they work is now a large clearing of stumps, devoid of the shelter and protecting presence of the trees. An annoying rain has started to fall, the already overcast day greying further, adding to her uneasiness. The trees were living beings, and to some capable of thought and speech.... but those would be folks specialized in such things, she not thinking they live, but not sentient.... and here they were, being slaughtered by these men, defenseless to save themselves. This infuriated the tatooed woman to no end. Not unlike her past experiencewith men, they take what does not rightly belong to them and cow the victim into submission. Men were on her hit list and always she watched and waited for one to slip up. Well, it looked like this was her chance to get some training in, and if a couple happened to expire due to the grueling task of helping her, well then, so be it. Her upper lip curls into a nasty looking sneer and then thinks how it would have been smart to bring her sword, forpractice only, of course. But first there was another task she needed to complete before moving to strike out with her besnaked hands. Names, she must get names of who these men are, for her own well being and, to find out who is behind this massacre. Carefully she moves, backing out of her warm wedged in hiding place and turns to her left. Silent feet guide her around until she finds a small cluster of men chopping away at the lower branches of a tree trunk,preparing it for loading onto the mechanical travel boxes for shipping elsewhere. Stopping and moving only her head, she surveys her immediate vacinity. Violet eyes spy a large, well rounded and ancient tree, looking to be strong still. She looks over her shoulder, making sure no one sneaks up on her and that the men are still busy, then turns back around, moves behind the tree and jumps up. Serpented hands reach out to grasp the branch and sheswings herself in the air, changing the position of her hands slightly and getting a good rhythem going. Her body makes no sound as she hauls it up to the branch, swinging a leg over to straddle it. Taking a moment to still the wild beating of her heart, she shifts on the branch, rises and begins the slow labor of climbing up the ancient tree. Reaching a satisfactory height, she slithers her body over a branch, keeping herself concealed in the leaves and stops. The men working on the tree were right below her and she unconciously stops her breathing. Their gruff voices rise up admist the sound of chopping and the whirring machinery. Their conversation was scetchy from this vantage point, but names began drifting up to her.... Jenkins, who seemed to be someone of some importance by way his name was spat around; Josey, now there was a name that was neither spoken with malice or with reverence, a sort of indifference; and then this name comes wafting to her ears, Robert Braxxx. She has to bite her tongue to keep from letting out a hiss, not wanting to chance them hearing it,though from all the other loud noises going on, it would not seem likely they would. Could there be another by the same name? Robert is a common name, but what about Braxxx.... Further thought is cutoff when one of the men uses the word 'cowboy'. That cinched it for this woman. This could be no coincidence, two Robert Braxxx's being referred to as the cowboy. She leans her head further over the side of the tree to try to hear better, but the men had moved away to tend to another dead tree. It has darkened quite a bit and the rain seems unrelenting. Dorae does not notice how wet and cold she is, only concentrating on bettering her perch, to take a moment to sit and think of what is going on. Minutes run by and still she is at no conclusion. The conversation made no sense to her, but the sights coupled with Robert's name left her entrigued, if not a bit bewildered. She glances around to be sure there was not a man lingering in anap or perhaps relieving himself.... she lets a slight smile crease her thin lips at that image. Oh to find a man with his pants down around his ankles, taking care of urgent business.... what a spendid way to catch him unawares and take his life. Violet eyes glitter with evil intent, but she shakes her head, barely concealing a laugh and begins to make her way out of the tree. She will have to get closer still, try to see if Robert is here andsee for herself if it is the one she knows from the Outback. Down from the tree, she makes a silent trace nearer to where several of the mechanical transports still await there loads.
Dorae "The Dangerous" Rasta
From: DoraeRasta
Sandwiched in the brush and peering out of a small hole, Dorae sits and watches with amazement. Hardly breathing, her mind whirls trying to make sense of the scene in front of her. Many men are at laborously working over the trees. The loud machinery plus their brutish strength toppling the tall majestic guardians of the forest. Axes chop over at that tree, a man with the odd machinery works on yet another not too far from her. She watches half fascinated, half sickend at the scene. The man with the machinery yells something, muffled over by the din of whirring and creaking timber. The large tree takes its time infalling, making it seem an eternity before it hits the ground with a large boom and a shake of the earth. A low hiss escapes thin lips and her violet eyes flash dangerously as yet another and another tree falls to its death. The place they work is now a large clearing of stumps, devoid of the shelter and protecting presence of the trees. An annoying rain has started to fall, the already overcast day greying further, adding to her uneasiness. The trees were living beings, and to some capable of thought and speech.... but those would be folks specialized in such things, she not thinking they live, but not sentient.... and here they were, being slaughtered by these men, defenseless to save themselves. This infuriated the tatooed woman to no end. Not unlike her past experiencewith men, they take what does not rightly belong to them and cow the victim into submission. Men were on her hit list and always she watched and waited for one to slip up. Well, it looked like this was her chance to get some training in, and if a couple happened to expire due to the grueling task of helping her, well then, so be it. Her upper lip curls into a nasty looking sneer and then thinks how it would have been smart to bring her sword, forpractice only, of course. But first there was another task she needed to complete before moving to strike out with her besnaked hands. Names, she must get names of who these men are, for her own well being and, to find out who is behind this massacre. Carefully she moves, backing out of her warm wedged in hiding place and turns to her left. Silent feet guide her around until she finds a small cluster of men chopping away at the lower branches of a tree trunk,preparing it for loading onto the mechanical travel boxes for shipping elsewhere. Stopping and moving only her head, she surveys her immediate vacinity. Violet eyes spy a large, well rounded and ancient tree, looking to be strong still. She looks over her shoulder, making sure no one sneaks up on her and that the men are still busy, then turns back around, moves behind the tree and jumps up. Serpented hands reach out to grasp the branch and sheswings herself in the air, changing the position of her hands slightly and getting a good rhythem going. Her body makes no sound as she hauls it up to the branch, swinging a leg over to straddle it. Taking a moment to still the wild beating of her heart, she shifts on the branch, rises and begins the slow labor of climbing up the ancient tree. Reaching a satisfactory height, she slithers her body over a branch, keeping herself concealed in the leaves and stops. The men working on the tree were right below her and she unconciously stops her breathing. Their gruff voices rise up admist the sound of chopping and the whirring machinery. Their conversation was scetchy from this vantage point, but names began drifting up to her.... Jenkins, who seemed to be someone of some importance by way his name was spat around; Josey, now there was a name that was neither spoken with malice or with reverence, a sort of indifference; and then this name comes wafting to her ears, Robert Braxxx. She has to bite her tongue to keep from letting out a hiss, not wanting to chance them hearing it,though from all the other loud noises going on, it would not seem likely they would. Could there be another by the same name? Robert is a common name, but what about Braxxx.... Further thought is cutoff when one of the men uses the word 'cowboy'. That cinched it for this woman. This could be no coincidence, two Robert Braxxx's being referred to as the cowboy. She leans her head further over the side of the tree to try to hear better, but the men had moved away to tend to another dead tree. It has darkened quite a bit and the rain seems unrelenting. Dorae does not notice how wet and cold she is, only concentrating on bettering her perch, to take a moment to sit and think of what is going on. Minutes run by and still she is at no conclusion. The conversation made no sense to her, but the sights coupled with Robert's name left her entrigued, if not a bit bewildered. She glances around to be sure there was not a man lingering in anap or perhaps relieving himself.... she lets a slight smile crease her thin lips at that image. Oh to find a man with his pants down around his ankles, taking care of urgent business.... what a spendid way to catch him unawares and take his life. Violet eyes glitter with evil intent, but she shakes her head, barely concealing a laugh and begins to make her way out of the tree. She will have to get closer still, try to see if Robert is here andsee for herself if it is the one she knows from the Outback. Down from the tree, she makes a silent trace nearer to where several of the mechanical transports still await there loads.
Dorae "The Dangerous" Rasta
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Re: Trees fall down, go boom!
Date: 1/4/1998 8:11 AM Central Standard Time
From: MPolanski
:::stepping out of her office, Melanie is immediately aware of a not so small commotion in the reception area. Rounding the corner of the hallway, she is just in time to witness an attack on her gum popping receptionist. Somewhere amidst the flurry of arms and legs flailing, she recognizes the small tear stained face of a Duely Noted delivery boy, the termagant known as Aidan.::::
"I ist *have* to see her!"
:::Pulling his small tenacious form from that of her huffing receptionist, Melanie effectively pins his arms against his sides, capturing his attention::::
"Aidan! What has you in such a tither, boy?"
::::Burrowing his face into her shoulder, the boy sobs out the story of the trees dissapearing from the forest, and the mob sent to stop the cutters. Her eyes grow larger as he ends the tale with a wail of bereavment, and she softly speaks her mind aloud.:::
"Don't they know that the opposition will grow? It's gone from 2 to 20 in a heartbeat, already! With bearueacrats, one must fight red tape with red tape!" :::noticing that the boy has quieted, she places a kiss on the top of his head, murmering that he has done the right thing, coming to her, and that she must get to work on the problem, immediately. Standing, she motions to her secretary, a new arrival::::
"Get DoS Lawyer on the phone, give him any retainer he wants, but I want an injunction against whatever corporation is cutting down trees -- Today! Then we can ferret out to whom this land belongs, and go from there."
::::running her hand through her already touseled hair, she wonders if any day at the paper will begin quietly.::::
From: MPolanski
:::stepping out of her office, Melanie is immediately aware of a not so small commotion in the reception area. Rounding the corner of the hallway, she is just in time to witness an attack on her gum popping receptionist. Somewhere amidst the flurry of arms and legs flailing, she recognizes the small tear stained face of a Duely Noted delivery boy, the termagant known as Aidan.::::
"I ist *have* to see her!"
:::Pulling his small tenacious form from that of her huffing receptionist, Melanie effectively pins his arms against his sides, capturing his attention::::
"Aidan! What has you in such a tither, boy?"
::::Burrowing his face into her shoulder, the boy sobs out the story of the trees dissapearing from the forest, and the mob sent to stop the cutters. Her eyes grow larger as he ends the tale with a wail of bereavment, and she softly speaks her mind aloud.:::
"Don't they know that the opposition will grow? It's gone from 2 to 20 in a heartbeat, already! With bearueacrats, one must fight red tape with red tape!" :::noticing that the boy has quieted, she places a kiss on the top of his head, murmering that he has done the right thing, coming to her, and that she must get to work on the problem, immediately. Standing, she motions to her secretary, a new arrival::::
"Get DoS Lawyer on the phone, give him any retainer he wants, but I want an injunction against whatever corporation is cutting down trees -- Today! Then we can ferret out to whom this land belongs, and go from there."
::::running her hand through her already touseled hair, she wonders if any day at the paper will begin quietly.::::