ROLEPLAY

Daomei hesitated for a moment. She had never even thought about something like a diary. She did not consider herself overly important, just another child of hominity, orphaned in the aftermath of the first great swarming. Nothing remarkable. And there had so much been left to do, few time to reflect.

Something was different, now. She had finished her training in the skills. Some seemed to believe that to be an endpoint, nothing to learn anymore. She thought otherwise. This was the starting point to really learn and master abilities.

Knowing to craft items at maximum quality is one thing. Composing the materials to gain best results with least waste of precious materials is another one.

Strangely, the scarcity of maximum material after the second great swarming had given a boost to her crafting abilities. Superior materials weren't abundant anymore. She adapted to the use of "inferior" stuff like fine animal loot and excellent foraging materials, and achieved results partially better than those she had reached during the times of abundance with superior stuff. Her understanding of crafting had deepened.

Fighting and magic somehow improved, too. Yet, her despising to slay other homins might be a limit. She did not care. Actually, a well trained duelist or group fighter would always be able to kill her unless she ran away, so what? She was not eager to join that business, unless duty would call her. In that case she would do her best as a loyal volunteer or conscript soldier, not hating her enemies but hoping to survive and that her side would win with least suffering for both sides.

Never she would enjoy or feel good to have killed other homins. That was out of the question. Others might feel that way, she did not condemn it.

Mastering flora, fauna, and territory was more important. Together with her sister Diwu, she was able to traverse virtually every point of the living planet. At least if it was not beset with aggressive creatures beyond the abilities of a team of two. Sure, there were some, but even there, she could come close enough for observation and patrolling.

The reputation with the many and various tribes was another, still open task. She enjoyed good to maximum reputation with about 28 of the 51 tribes of the living planet, and hostile relations with less than six of them. Yet there was a lot left to do. She hesitated to befriend tribes she really hated, like the Slavers in Bounty Beaches. She decided to speak with Orphie Dradie whether she should seek better reputation with those contemptible criminals.

Orphie? Yes, the dream to become a member of the Atys Rangers' forces was not gone, though the abrupt departure of Wilk Potskin had halted the training. She had received word that the training would continue soon.

Still, there was a lot left to do. Her new won abilities were a duty and, to some extent, a burden, but also joy and satisfaction. Being able to craft everything implied the obligation to respond to every legitimate call to get something crafted by every decent homin, no matter whether Kami or Karavan follower, neutral, or adhering to the clans of the marauders.

She never did ask for reward or payment, but was happy to hone her skills. At times, it was hard, though. Crafting could fail, valuable material being wasted, even by mistake or neglect. Nothing was more depressing and humiliating than that: destroying or degrading valuable mats of other homins by mishap, fault, or neglect.

That was life, anyway, and the risk worth to be dared. Mistakes were lessons to be learnt.

Would there ever be a time to be bored? She shrugged. Maybe when the kitins kame and offered unconditional surrender, and the marauders turned pacifists. And even then ..

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