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My old friend Jocelyn has taken to the city like a house on fire. Every two minutes it's "Ooh!" or "Eee!" or "Lookit that!" and once again I'm dragged speeding down to the next point of interest fast as my little legs will take me. Poms aren't built to dash about, I try to remind her. We're easily fascinated and absorbed and take in everything solidly with an upturned face and broad grin. We don't bound about like a Lyell in heat.
Thankfully she wears herself out pretty fast, and sleeps like a log in a bog beneath a hibernating terrawhale. Once she was checked in to her sleeping quarters I got a a nice short doze in the hyperbaric chamber of pain and woke up early and rarin' to go.
I'm sorry I shot your cousin, cute tiny dinosaur
I took the few hours to myself to run a few errands I was given from around town. Ancient engineering is one of my specialties, so I jumped at the chance to help out a machinist in Pelten. He sent me through down through the land to pick through graves and run from giant bugs, but the crisp early morning air and a beautiful sky made the walk more than worthwhile.
The pink sky over Grieving Garden
I met up with Jocelyn again after a few hours, she'd already awoken and strapped on a new outfit and even larger sword and was running around causing all sorts of trouble. "You can't just go around beating people up then running away!" I tell her. "How were you raised?"
Usually she sticks her tongue out at me and runs off, followed by a half a dozen angry mercenaries.
If you must fight, I say, let's do it properly. I tell her of my experiences in Jarit's garden and her eyes widen. As soon as I say "Elerd" she's practically salivating.
"Elerds aren't our enemies!" I say. "They have Poms just as we do. They're just whitish and snowy, while you're more swarthy and ginger."
As soon as she felt good enough with her weapon I walk her to the subway so she can experience first-hand the horrors of war, and maybe learn a little about compassion and understanding.
On the long submarine ride in I begin thinking to myself. What if this is what I am here in Rogwel for? To be a diplomatic voice in a sea of anger and contention. To be an ambassador of peace in a time of fruitless, endless war. This must me my purpose here, as an explorer and a pacifist (a pacifist who will respond when provoked, mind you).
After all, our ancestors the Maestros once held the whole world together not with power and fear, but with reason and goodwill. This is truly a Pom's destiny, to live up to our great heritage of mastery over the earth and compassion for our neighbors.
I decide that from now on I will consider myself an unofficial Rogwel ambassador, and act accordingly!
Besides, look how adorable their pets are!
My first duty was to go up to this majestic wolfish creature and introduce myself. In response, it snarled at me.
I decided the traditional deep-waist bow would put my head a little too close to its jaws, so I sorta waved and slowly backed away.
Elerd held the garden, as I hear is usual during the twilight hours. I stood on the edge of the neutral zone and waved at my counterparts, hoping that though our languages might divide us, we all speak the same language of rhythm and movement.
Much to my surprise many of my countrymen in the area joined in the dance, and we had a whole row of goodwill going (though I suspect their motivations might not have been quite the same as mine).
That's when an elf smacked J with a spear and she ran off screaming.
My first attempt at diplomacy an utter failure I walked back to Riall Town with my head hanging. But look, there before me was a fellow Pom, minding his own business far from the fighting. I side up to him and give a greeting.
What do you know, he greeted me back! We dance an old Pom dance and I return to Rogwel feeling for once that I have done some good in this world.
Poms for Peace! It's not a dream, it's a reality that hasn't happened yet!
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