Permission granted Charlie! I look forward to seeing those trees felled.
And Lumi you shall personally be in charge of getting us those cucumbers. Take your pick of the men, I'm sure you'll find one or two that aren't too dirty. Those cucumbers are a high priority!
Lost Magi, I have an even more powerful bomb... The H Bomb, created none other than the Russians themselves. The H just stands for something different, not Hydrogen...
Private Charlie | Western Front | A forest on the outskirts of Moscow
It was cold. Deathly cold.
Charlie could feel his fingertips numbing even inside his gloves. He’d purchased a grey greatcoat the day before which kept out the wind, but even with every button fastened he couldn’t help but shiver. He brushed through the forest like a spectre, forcing his unwilling limbs into action in the hope that a little exercise would warm him up.
“Private--!”
Charlie grabbed an official YWS Radio from his pocket and held it to his ear. The signal was poor in the forest but, somewhere at a position far west of him, Charlie knew there was a senior officer trying to contact him.
He squeezed the button to talk and spoke clearly. “Yes?”
“Do you read me, Private?”
“I read you loud and clear.”
“What’s the codeword?”
“‘Open book’,” he said after a moment’s thought. The voice on the radio seemed satisfied.
“How’s the tree situation looking?”
Charlie grinned. “All BARK and no bite.”
The radio crackled, spluttered, then died. Without another word he put it back in his pocket and hoped he hadn’t caused any irreparable damage. It was tough being a word-warrior, especially now YWS had gone to war. Careless talk could cost lives -- and it looked like his radio was just the first of many casualties to fall to his power.
He considered the tree before him. It was tall, strong, and inestimably old. The trunk was twice as thick as his waist, and its heavy limbs reached up, like Atlas, holding up a sky of leaves. As he took in the grandeur and beauty of the tree, only one thought occurred to him: it would have to go.
“You’re a PINE in the neck,” he said.
A deep crack sounded from within the tree -- the branches trembled and its leaves shook.
“I’m arresting you on suspicion of TREE-son.”
The tree groaned and leaned away from him. An awful splintering sound came from the trunk as it buckled under the force of his words.
“You’re the ROOT of the problem. Just pack your TRUNK and LEAF.”
A thunderous crack rang out through the forest as the tree fell backwards onto the forest floor. Charlie surveyed the wreckage with narrowed eyes. His final quips had severed the trunk cleanly across the base, perfect for stripping and planing for use in the General’s plan. He took a moment to enjoy the fleeting satisfaction of a job well done, and almost on cue his radio buzzed back to life again.
“Private! Do you read me?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Private -- I’m sending some reinforcements your way. We need to get this forest cleared ASAP.”
Charlie nodded. He didn’t like working with the ordinary troops -- they treated him with suspicion because of his strange power -- but he understood the necessities of war.
“Private, do you copy?”
“Copy that.”
“What’s your current situation?”
Charlie grinned again. “LOGGING in.”
I am thankful for laughter, except when milk comes out of my nose. -- Woody Allen
"This isn't good enough!" Stella stared down at tiny Private Minnie, whose hands were shaking. "Look!" Stella presented the hem on the forest-green silk gown so violently that the Private visibly flinched. "What do you call that?"
"A-a-a-a h-h-h-hem," Minnie said, shaking from head to toe.
"More specifically?" Stella said, theatrically cupping her ear.
"A-a... a crooked hem, Cap'n."
"And do we like crooked hems?" Stella asked patiently.
"No, ma'am."
"Do Russians like crooked hems?"
"I'm not sure if they'd know the difference-"
"Of course they would! These women are a well-oiled fighting machine! Order and organisation is everything to them. We can buy as much French lace and tulle in as we like, but if our hems are crooked..." She sighed, looking at the mousy little private, remembering how it had been back when General Nate had first set her to work on a Singer. It was tough, being inferior. "Pick it, and do it again," she said as kindly as possible.
She moved down the sewing room, nodding to a New Member who had successfully made a lovely taffeta cocktail dress- size 24 to accommodate the strong upper bodies of their targets. The colours were the most luxurious in the world, Moroccan purples, Brazilian reds and greens, materials that in the past Stella had only dreamt of. It was a pity they were no nipped-in waists or draped necklines. Pretty, but on a budget. Stella hated budgets, almost as much as she hated completely matched outfits. They left no room for creativity. Which was why she had chosen the forces of YWS above her many other offers. Creativity here was encouraged, except when you were on a budget and a tight schedule.
Stella's communicator rang in her skirt pocket (YWS standard uniform was trousers, but the seamstresses didn't follow many uniform rules) and she snapped it open. "Captain Thomas. Password?"
"Open book. How're things in the workshop?"
She cast a glance at Minnie, desperately working with her seam ripper. "Operation Stitch in Time is coming along slowly but surely."
"Slowly? Will it be in time then?"
"We have twenty thousand haute couture dresses pret-a-porter. The seamstresses barely look up. It's like the Industrial Revolution in here!" Four girls hadn't left their machines in forty-eight hours. It was a little worrying.
"Revolution's the general idea, Captain."
"As long as it's not all a waist, Commander," Stella said sharply.
"Well, Captain, the bow hasn't been used as a weapon in centuries. I'm depending on you to make it work."
Stella meticulously retied the sash on the nearest dress. "Yes, Commander. Bows, darts, daring hemlines. I have a few tricks up my sleeve. You can count on me."
"And your first dispatch?"
"I prefer the term delivery. We can make one in two hours' time. I'll go out personally with the personal shopper division."
"The personal shoppers? Why?"
"Why, commander, who better to persuade these women to buy dresses they don't need?"
"Stella. You were in my dream the other night. And everyone called you Princess." -Lauren2010
"Received Confirmation, I have," said Yoda. "I felt no disturbance in the force," Mace Windoo replied. "Look inside, you must," said Yoda. "Use the force. Let it smash your thick skull in, you must." "I see it," said Windoo. "They are cutting trees in the forest. Those anti-environmentalists deserve to have their freaking heads removed from their shoulders." "Control your anger, you must," Yoda said. "Send an army to intercept them, you will." He let the holograph crackle a little, before allowing it to fizzle out entirely. Be sorry, the YWSians would be.
#TNT
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. -- Robert Frost
Captain Skorp | Western Front | A forest on the outskirts of Moscow
My red curls fell about my face as I swung from tree to tree at breakneck speeds. Who knew that duty could be so much fun?
As I spotted the man who'd be my partner over the next few months, I slowed and let myself fall in a graceful arc to the ground, where I landed, on my feet of course.
It was walking from here. I sighed, and rested my hand on my sword hilt. Walking in the woods was nice, but I'd rather be getting some action. I didn't bother trying to conceal my approach-- if he was a Russian spy, I would kill him. Simple as.
Goosebumps flared on my skin. You see, that was the problem with black shirts. They didn't keep out the cold very well at all. The grey overcoat-clad figure turned, and my face burst into a completely unorthodox grin, and let the first sentence that popped into my head escape my lips.
"Nice puns."
I've learned so much from people who never existed - Unknown
I walked through the hallway, hearing the load echo of my footsteps. Oh how I would like the sound to stop. I didn't have much time - the Russian Commander would be here any minute now. I took a deep breath and increased my pace. I stopped out the front of a shiny steel door. I entered the access code that those idiot Russians had given me. I walked through the now open door and headed towards the giant computer at the back of the wall. I tapped on a few of the keys and watched the screen come to life. I checked my watch: only two minutes left. I started typing in the computer code required to create the program. My fingers flew over the keyboard with expert speed. I started to type the message: 'I know you know we are invading but I wouldn't recommend you Russian and attack our forces as we have a few tricks up our Sleeves and our Roots firmly planted in your soil. Love your bestest friends at YWS. ' I finished off the code and made a dash for the door. Just as I turned a corner, I heard footsteps heading towards the door that I just exited. Close call; I better get out of here so I can set up my alibi.
"Captain." Charlie nodded a greeting -- it was safer not to use too many words. Less likely for anyone to be hit by a stray pun.
"Private," the Captain replied, still with this unusual grin on her face. "I'm Captain Skorpionne of the Chatspeak Assassins."
Charlie just nodded again and grunted his recognition. The dark-clothed ninja didn't appear to realise how dangerous it was for her to be talking to him. Just one ambiguous pronoun, just one over-emphasised verb -- that's all it would take to cause serious wounds to his new partner. This is exactly why I prefer to work alone, he thought. Still, orders are orders...
"Heard from Jaetwee?" he asked. The Captain shook her head. "She's a Special Agent -- deep cover. The plan was for her to meet us here."
Captain Skorp shrugged. The forest was silent now, except for the slow stirrings of the wind in the trees. They really were beautiful things, the product of countless decades of growth. It was such a shame they had to go.
"Have you ever cut down a tree with that katana?" Charlie asked, gesturing to the shining sword at her waist.
"Not yet," said the Captain, again with that unusual grin.
"Well, you know what they say," he grinned. "The PUN is mightier than the sword."
But by the time he realised his mistake it was too late.
The full force of his words slammed into her, lifting the Captain off her feet and high into the air. Charlie could only watch in terror as gravity finally caught up and pulled her back down to the ground. He closed his eyes as she hit the floor with a thud. Slowly, cautiously, he allowed himself a glimpse at his fellow soldier...
She had landed on her feet. Like a ninja.
"Sorry," he said, knowing full-well his apology didn't come close to making up for his mistake.
Captain Skorp just shook her head and brushed the apology away. "Don't worry about it. Where should we start?"
"I'll start here," Charlie pointed with a gloved hand at the dense undergrowth to their right. "Try not to get in my way."
Captain Skorp nodded and unsheathed her sword. She was the most capable officer he'd seen in a while. Charlie wondered if it might not be so bad to have a partner after all.
I am thankful for laughter, except when milk comes out of my nose. -- Woody Allen
Emoh|Stable Near Western Front Emoh stood in her stable. The Unicorns were soon to wake up and prepare for battle. She filled the feed troughs and began to get them saddled. Once let out of their pens they arranged themselves into formation. Emoh smiled. "Perfect, my lovelies. Perfect." She climbed up onto her horse’s saddle and walked him to the front. "UP!" She yelled, and in unison the magic horses trotted foreword. She pulled a whistle from around her neck and tweeted it 3 times. Their pace picked up and they sprinted as fast as they could go. A long whistle tweet halted them. She considered testing their magic-use ability, but that could be potentially dangerous. She galloped them around the stable then put them back in their individual pens. As they fed she went to her office, composing a list of whistle calls and words to know for the riders. Though people laughed at the thought of Unicorns in battle, the rainbow ponies made great way on the field. Their horns making great bayonets and their strength more than triple the average horse. The YWS Unicorn Brigade was the best and most well trained in the world. She smiled again. They were ready.
O thin men of Haddam,/Why do you imagine golden birds?/Do you not see how the blackbird/Walks around the feet/Of the women about you? -Wallace Stevens
The cold was taking over; it was stealing into her camp and into the very bed she slept in. And it was the worst lover she'd ever had. With a sigh, the general rolled out of her sleeping bag and crawled throiugh the tent flap. She was fully dressed, of course. It was a new regulation she'd introduced since the incident last week. That had been too awful to think about.
"Progress reports!" Heather summoned her steward, a wet-behind-the-ears recruit who knew nothing of making war. But the lad was a deft hand with the frying pan.
"Yes Ma'am! The de-foresting of Russia is going well. We'll soon have enough trees to start construction."
"Good. And the others?"
"Well... we're making good progress with the secret spies division. And the seamstresses are about to make their first delivery!"
"And?" Heather was growing impatient. He was keeping something from her and he hadn't yet mentioned the most important project. This did not bode well for her mid-day lunch.
"Well, uh..Captain Lumi Erre has not yet been able to um, aquire the... the cucumbers for his cucumber sandwiches. I am assured that the bread-"
"What do I care about the bread if there are no cucumbers? Bring me my armour. I think it's time I entered the field." While the boy scurried off, Heather un-hooked her radio from her belt.
"Captain! This is your general speaking!"
"Yes, General ma'am, sir!"
"I'm coming down there."
"But General - ze code word. Is it wise to give out zuch crucial infor-"
"If you're an enemy, Captain. I suggest you flee the area immediately. Otherwise prepare for my arrival."
“Alright, alright!” Lumi was in a frenzy, tidying the bakery and getting his soldiers in order. He’d been given tres capable privates—the chatlings zemselves. “Are ze wine bottles and bubbles in place?!”
“Oui, Mon Capitan!”
“Lumi quickly fanned out ze affirmed plans for ze cucumber reconnaissance mission on a large dining table and nodded to ze doorman, who turned down ze lights to a tres faint, tres ambient glow, barely enough illumination to cover ze dining table. And, as ze doorman opened ze door for ze General, Lumi hid away in ze shadows.
“…Captain?” General Heather peered around the dark room, not sure what the heck was going on; but she saw the mission plans on the table and figured the place set was for her. And, as she sat, a rich accordion faintly played in the back.
There was a click.
Be.
Our.
Gu—
“CAPTAIN.” Ze accordion detuned while ze lights came up, revealing ze dejected face of the eccentric baker, displeased zat his big number had been cut off in its prime.
Zere was a long pause. “…Oui, General—“ He ventured to ze table where he stowed his cane and top hat—he wouldn’t be needing zem, after all—and pointed to a spot on ze map just a few miles from ze bakery. “Zis is ze closest cucumber farm to our location. It is a beautiful property, 50 acres of nozing but rural farmland with, how you say, climate control devices and ze works! In fact, General, I have taken ze liberty of taking a virtual tour on ze world wide web, and ho-ho!—I must say, it is zimply divine.”
“Captain, I want cucumbers. I want results. I. Want. My. Lunch. Not some Martha Stewart’s Fine Real Estate lecture!”
Lumi clutched a hand to his chest, clearly wounded by ze general’s words. “Oh, but mon general! How little you believe in my ways!”
“I’ll believe in your ways once I have results!” She leaned in further, studying the map. “Have you dispatched troops to this farm yet?”
“Oui.”
“And have they returned with the cucumbers?”
“Oui.”
“Then what in Nate’s name is ze holdu--I mean the holdup?!”
“I am afraid,” he said, voice and accent both stretching to give him ze most possible time to think of how to phrase his answer, “zat someone has stolen our knives...”
General Heather said nothing, just stared at ze Captain in disbelief. In ze doorways, a crowd of privates had gathered to watch ze scene unfolding. One of ze cellists in Lumi’s orchestra played a long, ominous note.
“Every.”
The orchestra hit a minor chord together.
“Last.”
Ba-doo-ba-bom!
“One.”
A timpani rolled in ze background as Lumi pushed his chair back, gesturing for ze General to follow him. A quick tour of ze kitchen revealed ze truth—every last knife had been stolen from its place.
“My SPEW, this is a disaster!”
“Worry not, General,” Lumi replied confidently, “for I have a backup plan!”
“What is your plan of operation?” she asked, eyes fierce—almost like a kitty’s.
“I have requested ze assistance of ze master of the forgotten Martial Art of Haiku-Fu.”
“You can’t mean—“
“—why, yes, General Ma’am, Sir. It is her.”
Ze doors to ze main dining room burst open with a gust of le wind and le snow, and ze orchestra began playing in fear. As ze General and Lumi returned to the dining hall, zey gasped in le surprise!
“Ah! Persephoneia, my old friend!” Lumi advanced towards her with le outstretched arms.
She shot him a powerful, sharp glance zat sliced a strand of his hair from his bangs. “The name’s Persy, now.”
Ze orchestra trilled in anticipation of a battle.
“I see,” Lumi replied, giving General Heather another quick glance. “Well zen,” he returned, “shall we get to work?!”
For ze next hour, Lumi and Persy set out chopping up every last cucumber in ze kitchen. At first, it was le easy task; however, as ze words became scarce and ze syllables became harder to match, it became harder and harder to slice through the tough meat of ze cucumbers.
General Heather stood at ze counter with ze map under her hands and ze radio to her ear. Le sabotage of ze knives had her worried--if someone knew their operations, what would be their second course of dismantling them?
Last edited by Lumi on Wed Aug 24, 2011 4:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I am a forest fire and an ocean, and I will burn you just as much as I will drown everything you have inside.
-Shinji Moon
I am the property of Rydia, please return me to her ship.
' I finished off the code and made a dash for the door.
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