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Post by Flare on Sept 2, 2019 5:21:41 GMT -6
No better person then the warden to ask, but Flare wasn't going anywhere without a new crutch. His tail wasn't some sort of super limb and despite the limitations of his leg, if he stood up straight, the drake still found himself very tall for...well what he is. Not was, is. As it may, he hobbled over to drag out the fallen limb. Please don'' be rotten, please don't be rotten. Carefully, Flare weighed out the limb of wood in his hands. Relatively weighted, so the wood wasn't all dead yet. One claw scraped at the bark, leaving a small gouge in its scaled appearance. Mmm, good. The wood still appeared in decent shape. Perhaps it just broke off in a recent storm. It would need some stripping off of the bark, but even his claws weren't perfect for the job... What sort of object would be good for the j-OUCH. 38 5.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 2, 2019 5:26:57 GMT -6
JOB. Something had been painfully yanked off of his back while the drake wasn't paying attention. The sharp pain brought small tears to the corner of the drake's eyes as he held the branch in one hand, trying to brush along his back with another. Felt like someone had just come along and ripped out- a scale. Perched on something tall enough to reach his back, Monarch, the little brat he was, clung to the objects he stood upon, holding a wildfire colored scale in his twiggy hands. He didn't immediately throw it away or something, turning the pointed scale over in his claws. Being mindful of the edge. Looking up again, the conifer cat found himself nearly nose to snout with the ssashirk. His breath stunk like predator food. He looked upset. For pulling on a scale? With some consideration, the conifer cat finally placed the removed scale upon the drake's snout, and scampered away. 39 6.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 2, 2019 5:33:21 GMT -6
Well then. The smarting of the yanked scale already felt like it was fading away. Not every day that something just COMES UP BEHIND YOU AND RIPS OFF A SCALE ON YOUR BACK. At least it came off, and didn't leave blood or anything. Perhaps. He pressed the scale's edge against the bark of the tree, increasing pressure as he swiped downward. It took a few tries, but the scale cut under the bark, sluffing it off the branch. Hm. This was an idea. He glanced back at the departing tail of the conifer cat. Monarch may be onto something; was that cat thing smarter then he gave it credit for? Carefully, he hobbled back with branch and scale in hand to take a seat on the rock he'd made his own sitting spot. To lay the branch across his thighs and start shaving off the bark. Most crutches weren't barked after all. 40 7.20
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Post by Renathan on Sept 2, 2019 5:43:48 GMT -6
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Post by Flare on Sept 2, 2019 6:11:30 GMT -6
Perhaps it was just his frame of mind at the moment, but Flare would've sworn at the moment that this branch felt still very alive under his fingers as he shaved away the bark, one swipe of the sharp scale at a time. Almost thrumming with an invisible life energy. He wasn't sure what to believe of this, as usually branches aren't magical. ...are they? The grain of the wood beneath the bark spoke a volume that the drake didn't understand; a pity, for any druid worth their salt would realize this wasn't any old branch. Unassuming of what he was holding, he continued to shave off the bark. The job took him near till mid day sun. His fingers and hands ached from gripping the scale, back ached from being arched over his work. Pausing a bit, the ssashirk placed the scale on the rock next to him, shaking out his numbing hands. Yet to notice the bright eyes of the conifer cat still watching him. Watching that branch with trepidation. 41 8.20 lv 11 Monarch? (need to check this)
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Post by Flare on Sept 2, 2019 6:20:32 GMT -6
'How ironic, hands that are practically armored, and they still numb up with repetitive motions.' Flare muttered to himself, still waving his hands back and forth like some sort of stupid lunatic with numb hands. For some reason, the bark felt kind of leafy here and there as he been shaving the branch. Strange. Might be a thing about these Central trees. Flare glanced up at the old oak that made part of its home here in his plot. Beautiful tree, nice and supple. He could appreciate a good tree. These kinds of trees were one in a few around Tumai, it was just too hot for trees to grow there, short of those tall spindly ones called... palms. {Thank you for the branch} he told the tree, nodding at it. As if the tree would understand him... Finally done wringing his hands out, the drake set back to work on shaving off the bark and dead growth on the branch. 42
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Post by Flare on Sept 2, 2019 6:25:46 GMT -6
But someone did hear his thanking of the tree. Serpent's dawn was just starting to dawn here in Pethia, so the Harvest gods were more interested in the world then typical. One happened to hear the thanking of the tree. One look at the individual and they were very quick to not make a second look down in that particular direction. The wrongness, the wrongness they felt. But a kind soul, with a green thumb and a developing garden here in Pethia. Needs some tender loving care in terms of layout but that came with time and practice. A wave of the limb and they were no longer paying attention to that part of the gardens. Flare didn't feel the difference in the branch across his knees; although he could barely sense magic, this was just a weak sprig of magical energy that filled the core of this "dead" tree branch. Too weak for anything interesting to happen, surely. 43 10.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 2, 2019 6:30:28 GMT -6
Heck, for all he would notice, it could be a giant sleeping nyssa with a broken off branch and the drake wouldn't notice. He'd never even met a tree monster thing. Just continuing his thing of scraping bark off the branch. Pausing every now and then to take a swig from the waterskin nearby his feet. Once he had this crutch finished, he could do his planning on paper and start deciding on what to keep of his harvests for his personal inventory, and perhaps sell the perishables. They might be worth something, especially during the period of harvest. ...When was harvest season around here anyways? Another question to ask the Warden when he finished this task. The body of the crutch finished, he flipped the branch around to start smoothing out the wood for a place to put his arm as a crutch. Still needed more bark to remove, and it was... rather straight. 44 11.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 2, 2019 6:35:28 GMT -6
The last shred of bark broke away with a bit of difficulty, but the scale seemed to make a decent enough chisel for bark. Setting the scale down beside him, Flare held the branch up to his eye height, staring down the branch to examine its straightness. Level, balance... not perfect but all right enough. He'd need his claws or something sharper to dig out the area for his arm to go. But there were little buds of green popping up along the length of the branch as he held it. What...? The end was warping in his grip. Startled, Flare dropped the branch, letting it clatter to his feet. The end twisted and warped, like something invisible was melding it. Vines poked out of the wood, twining around the body of the branch. Minutes passed, and the warping growing branch seemed to stop doing what it was doing. Tentative poking with his tail, the drake picked up the branch... which had warped itself into some sort of crutch staff. He stood with difficulty, and tested its length. ...it was perfect. 45 12.20
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Post by Renathan on Sept 2, 2019 7:58:49 GMT -6
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Post by Flare on Sept 25, 2019 22:12:49 GMT -6
The beginning of the autumn season and the end of summer season proved to be very busy for Flare as he lugged his new wares back into the plot. Slowly crossing it to his tent. The creatures scattered from around him, going about their creaturely businesses and being just that; creatures. He'd gone on a quest after a giant nyssa in the grounds of the magical house. Found the creature, retrieved the item, and got some new plants for his troubles. Trees in teapots. Bonsai, she called them. Bonsai were trees grown miniature. When he'd gotten those back to the plot, the contest hall had put out a new thing. Agility; in which he decided to work with Monarch for. Monarch had at least been mentioned as an entrant in the 'cute' contest; although he didn't understand the concept. Then going shopping earlier in the day. The ssashirk sighed heavily; his lack of knowledge of the Common tongue made everyday interaction go very slow or nonexistant. What was he supposed to do, constantly ask for a translation or someone to write things down? 46 18.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 27, 2019 12:09:44 GMT -6
No, the answer came in the idea of going out to a store and buying some books on learning to read and write common and ssakash. That way if he couldn't speak it, he'd at least be able to write it down. The three books weighed the ssashirk's good shoulder down as he hobbled back down the cobblestones, back to his secluded garden. In this cool weather, he found it more pleasing to chill out, to relax and read under the tent he called home. The drake eased the gate open, scattering various pachee as he closed the gate. These books would be extremely handy. That, and figuring out how to care for the handful of new plants he'd procured from a courier this month. If his memory on flowers was intact... these were... forget-me-nots and asters. These weren't common in Tumai. And could be kept in containers. Books on reading and writing first though. And this book on a red thread connecting a person and a flower. 47 19.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 27, 2019 12:14:03 GMT -6
The batch of supplies was very expensive from the courier, and he'd initially botched his math on the pricing. Thankfully the courier was good at Pethian math and pointed out his overpayment. Cost him nearly half the amount, which was good. He had not much to his name after all. Perhaps once autumn hit full swing, the ssashirk could take his produce into town and sell it. He could make a few coin, at least enough to feed himself. Oh. Speaking of which. He reaches over, puts on the circlet and asks for meat. A chunk of raw pink meat drops before him. This object is very handy, for being magical and able to summon food. The ssashirk forgets his manners in solitude, tearing into the meat with all the ferocity of a hungry predator. This is where his conical teeth were handy for ripping and tearing. The sharp teeth in the back didn't do much for crushing or grinding, so it remained in bite sized strips. Chomp chomp chomp. 48 20.20 lv 48 Flare
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Post by Flare on Sept 29, 2019 10:09:07 GMT -6
Not everything could be solved by a magical necklace object that he could wear around his head or on his neck. The meat had already been drained of its initial butchery juices and tasted a bit dry for being raw. However, anything was better then rotten meat, even magic meat. Once he had gulped and chewed and torn his way through the small amount of meat, the drake turned his attention to reading the Ssakash ABCs book first. He had an initial start of the words in sound, but not in script. Squinting some at the not entirely unfamiliar script written before him, he starts into reading. Reading, and a bit of writing slowly and a bit awkwardly at the back of his notebook, and learning a language that he didn't enjoy. However the Common book was in Ssakash, and he needed this book in order to learn to read THAT book. 49 1.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 29, 2019 10:59:23 GMT -6
The hours crawled by. Pachee and other creatures chased each other about the garden in a mock game of something that could have been cops and robbers if the creatures were smart enough to know the game. A snoozing pile of fur snugged itself closer to Flare's foot as he sat in his shelter, reading. If he didn't know better, she was seeking his body heat, or just some company. Even when he was asleep, the slight increase of warmth in the crook of his knees couldn't be missed, but it was gone by the time then drake rose with the sun. He turned a page, absorbed in his reading. Learning a language wasn't an overnight deal. Outside of his tent shelter, the sun slowly started to set. The pachee would gather up into this big leafy warm pile and sleep for the night. The dragonoak had dark enough colors to not be seen at night by regular means, stalking night bugs and occasionally spooking the pride. Flare ended up falling asleep in his book, ssakash word scripts dancing about in his head. 50 2.20
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