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Post by Flare on May 4, 2019 12:45:19 GMT -6
A part of Flare didn't understand how far the idea of Pethian community reached. Especially where he remained relatively reclusive in his garden, tending and working with his own area. Unless he needed supplies. Or wanted to take Pak back to the ...breeding center. Somehow, word manages to carry, even to a hermit like the ssashirk. A bit tired and bored of stacking (and dropping) rocks in a design of a wall, Flare chose to stretch his limbs and get out of the greenery. His sunhat perched on his head. "You there!" someone called to him, someone who did not sound like the warden. Flare paused in midhobble, looking about. "Yes, you! Lizard!" '[Not a lizard]' Flare griped inwardly. He looked to his left, towards one of the larger gardening plots. "Ssashirk" he points to himself. "Yes yes, can you help me? There's something in it for you." The fire colored drake tilts his head. "Catching bugs." the stranger speaks slowly, like talking to a child. 1 18.20
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Post by Flare on May 6, 2019 14:54:59 GMT -6
The stranger repeats the phrase. "C-a-t-c-h-i-n-g b-u-g-s." Flare previously met foreigners at home, who were very highly thinking of their own intelligence and believing humanoids (or ssashirk) were stupid. He wasn't stupid, and didn't appreciate the gesture. "Worth your trouble!" Ash gray eyes narrowed. "Very simple! Get rid of the bugs in my garden, and you get something in return!" [Make it worth my time.] Flare remarked in his native language, leaning on his crutch and crossing his arms with a reptillian scowl. [All I want is to get out of the garden for today.] The gardener blinked, utterly flummoxed by the foreigners voice. "Just go catch some bugs. Get them out of my plot and out of this area. Keep your toes out of my prize crops, just do the job." The gardener finally walked away. Leaving Flare on the path, with naught but haughty instructions. How rude. In the meantime, the day just started to stretch on longer and longer. So very much longer, and just for a simple thiing. 2 19.20
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Post by Flare on May 8, 2019 20:39:41 GMT -6
Unwilling, but at the same time, it was more then just clearing brush. Most of the brush 'was' cleared. Mostly pulling weeds and preparing land. Not easy to do with one bum leg, thats for sure. Flare remembered briefly that Jak from the Pachee place had a bad leg too. Didn't she say she gardened? Hmm. This fence could barely keep out a short legged deer; this was rediculous. Flare barely had to clamber. Grumbling to himself, he stooped to examine the growing crops. Most of these he had a decent recognition of; edible crops. Beans (blech), root veg, and various others. But around the heart of the new leaves, caterpillars. Happily chewing away and doing their thing of devestating the garden if left alone. 'Just get a bird' Flare thought to himself. Birds loved bugs, and saved the issue of doing your own pest control yourself. He briefly considered looking into a bird for himself for his own area... Hm 3 20.20 lv28
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Post by Flare on May 10, 2019 19:06:24 GMT -6
That rude gardener should consider themselves lucky; for Flare did at least know his way about confonting garden pests. In his short time here in New Pethia, his sharp tipped claws served well for tweezer substitution (tweezers are a pair of thin metal strips fused together to pinch and hold small items, like a leaf or a bug). Larvae were easily enough found. One sort he had discovered previously had been a spittlebug, a tiny beetle that hid beneath a layer of spittle under a leaf or on a stem. A few sprays of alcohol (not the drinking kind) defused the spittle and spooked the beetle into moving. A pinch and he’d have it. Usually they were crushed and discarded. Only once he had gone to the trouble of flicking the unfortunate insect into a pile of green cuttings from spiffing a plant or two. Before being here, alcohol was only for drinking. This one did not taste good for drinking to the ssashirk sense of taste. 4 1.20
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Post by Jack on May 10, 2019 19:09:18 GMT -6
Success! You have eradicated the infestation! Feel free to continue playing if you would like, but your prize will be sent to you shortly!
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Post by Flare on May 10, 2019 19:24:12 GMT -6
The heart of the matter dwelled on getting rid of the pests without causing any sort of harm to these plants. Flare did not want to explain the claw marks on any sort of vegetation that occasionally hindered. Tweezer claws be damned. As he crouched onto the ground, Flare laid aside his crutch. Down on his knees, he had more modbility then on two feet. A spiral pattern before the ssashirk caught his eye. A snail. pest. He crushed it with the heel of one hand. The shell broke easily, the snail now mush on the soil. Or mulch. Did this person mulch their crops? As he crawled about, Flare worked to crush every snail and slug he came across. Occasionally finding a caterpillar or a few cocoons. The cocoons could be harvested... somehow and moved. Did he... no. All he had was his claws and the sunhat. Not a way to move cocoons. Crushing it was. -squish- Very unpleasant. 5 2.20
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