Races - Chapter 1 - Gnomes
Myth of the Gnomes
The moon faded as the shadow of the world slipped across its surface, until the natural amphitheater--recently so brilliantly illuminated under the full circle of white glare--slipped into darker, deeper shadow. Finally, in nearly complete blackness, the masters stepped from their niches onto the stages of honor set around the gathering. Each of these stages was a pinnacle of rock, rising several dozen feet above the heads of assembled gnomedom.
One of these masters raised his hands and muttered an incantation. Immediately the midnight air around him flared into a blossom of red light, light that spilled like a shower of liquid onto the floor of the valley. Another master spoke, and green illumination grew in a spurting fountain around her. Soon other showers of light, in blues and whites and pale yellows, spread across the darkened vale. The rock walls reflected the magical flares until the whole of the bowl-shaped vale brightened under the illusionary magic.
Then the circle of lights faded again, as a file of stunted figures moved into the smooth clearing beside the lake. Abruptly, these gnomes raised their hands--and the tale of the gods began . . .
Unlike most other civilized races, the gnomes do not have a creation myth. Instead, they view the world--and their place in it--as a constant within the flow of time, changing only in small and insignificant ways. In the big picture, they assume that things will remain very much as they always have been. Good and evil, chaos and law, exist in equilibrium, and the preservation of this balancing act is the primary purpose of time.
A great wall of white light flickered into the sky. A fountain of golden sparks appeared in the midst of the pale illumination, and the whiteness encircled the gold like a mantle wrapping royal shoulders. Slowly a figure grew distinct--gnomish of form but enormous in size, covered with rippling golden, his eyes gleaming like twin diamonds of incomprehensible size and value.
Murmurs of appreciation and comprehension rippled through the assembled gnomes. They knew that this was the image of Garl Glittergold, the patriarch of the gnomish pantheon of deities from time immemorial. In mute confirmation, the gleaming shape of a huge, silver-bladed axe materialized in the god's hands. This, they knew, was Arumdina the Justifier, the great battleaxe that would cleave the enemies of gnomedom as easily as she might slice through water.
Other fountains of color spurted upward, and within them grew the shapes of additional gods--the mischievous and merry face of Baervan Wildwanderer; the calm, stoney features of Calladuran Smoothhands; the vibrant metal-faced visage of Flandal Steelskin; Segojan Earthcaller's benign features--until the whole cosmic family was represented in the bright vale.
Only then came the creeping white shadow, reaching forward with steel-shod claws, its shape like that of a blunt and blinded beast. It glowed like a corpse-candle, its illumination swallowing up all other light, its pale glare unmistakably pure evil.
The gnomes gasped collectively, and little ones instinctively shrank beside their mothers, for they all knew that this was Urdlen--the dark center of evil that remained, even within gnomedom, always ready to flourish in the world.
The gnomish outlook on life requires a very balanced view of the universe. Thus, while gnomes consider themselves and their race to be generally good, the force of evil in the world--and even within the gnomes themselves--cannot be denied. Indeed, only by acknowledging evil, by recognizing it as the counterpoint of goodness, can the balance of all things be maintained.
Like the gnomes themselves and the other gods, Urdlen the Evil One is assumed to have always been there, and to remain for all time to come. Yet only in the steady struggle against the creature and what it represents can the truly happy and vital nature of these people be insured.
The colors flowed and flamed. In their towering pillars they told of the great battles of life, as darkness ever strives to swallow light but always the brightness breaks through.
Thousands of gnomish throats first howled with laughter, then groaned in collective grief, as the images of the gods cavorted across the epic stage. They watched in awe as Garl Glittergold raised his axe, chopping at imaginary stantions of stone to bring a thunderous collapse--this was the tale of Garl's triumph over Kurtulmak the kobold god, in which Garl brings down the cavern that Kurtulmak would have made his prison upon his captor's head.
Next the images of a thousand gnomes, arrayed for war, marched from the cliff walls, striving toward each other with braying trumpets and drums that pounded like thunder. But again came Garl Glittergold, the goldenskinned giant of a gnome, and with a swipe of his axe he cast glittering sparks of light all across the ground. Immediately the gnomish host threw down their arms, and the audience roared with amusement as they scuttled about to collect the gems that their deity had scattered. By the time the gathering was done, the weapons were lost and the trivial argument that had once propelled them to war had been forgotten.
Central to the mythology and self awareness of the gnomes is a sense of the race's togetherness--even among the different subraces that make up the whole. Indeed, one of Garl Glittergold's main tasks in the world is to intercede in potential gnome-to-gnome conflicts, usually by humor and diversion. It is this awareness that makes conflicts among these folk--whether they be marital arguments, property disputes, disrespectful youth, bitter clan rivalries, or warfare--so extremely rare.
When they do occur, the practicers of violence (on both sides) are likely to face complete ostracism until the conflict is resolved. It is interesting to note that, once resolution is achieved, the gnomes are usually quick to forgive and to welcome transgressors back into the fold. Their patience is not limitless, however, and blatant aggressors or bullies who repeatedly hector others are not likely to be easily forgiven. Fortunately, such malefactors are quite rare.
The image of the goldenskinned gnome, surrounded by his entourage of lesser gods, cavorted from mountaintop to hillcrest, scampering around the vale that held so many of his people. They laughed and roared at his antics, cheering as he and Baervan sat together at a table and alternately stole a succulent haunch of roast back and forth from each other. The illusionary roast, which was the size of a small house, sizzled and sputtered, casting the warmth of steam and the scent of its juices enticingly across the gathering.
But then the crowd drew breath in hushed anticipation as they saw, lurking in the hollow below Garl's golden image, the hideous bulk of Urdlen, The Crawler Below. Reaching upward with steely claws, the hairless, blind beast groped for the higher gods, seeking to strike and injure them in its spite and hate. Small gnomish children, not yet initiated in the scope of the tale, shouted warnings, their squeaking voices rising above the hush and stillness of the vale.
Garl took no notice, however, instead choosing that moment to perch on one foot and do a wild, spinning dance for the edification of the crowd. Ever upward crept the monstrous mole, until those steel talons reached almost to the great god's golden boot.
Suddenly, just as Urdlen prepared to lunge at its apparently unsuspecting victim, Garl leapt into the air and did a double somersault backwards over the creeping beast, finally coming to rest on a hilltop a full quarter-mile away. Hissing in hate and spite, the evil mole reared up to make a last desperate swipe at its escaping prey, only to overbalance in its haste and fall backward, rolling over and over like a runaway snowball as it slid down the slippery slope, not stopping until it hit the bottom of the shaded vale between the two summits. A moment later an avalanche of gems it had dislodged in its fall buried it from sight.
And then, to the echo of Garl's laughter and the relieved cheers of ten thousand gnomes, the shadow slipped from the face of the moon. As brightness again filled the vale, the performance of the illusions faded . . . and the celebration began.
The task of the gnome, as he or she views his or her place in the world, is a mixture of important work and equally important play. Whatever the nature of the job at hand, a gnome will apply himself or herself to it with great good humor, even carrying his or her joking wit and humorous outlook into the subterranean depths of a mine or down the forest trail.
But it is when the work is done that the true nature of gnomehood becomes apparent. No one could mistake a boisterous gathering of singing, dancing gnomes for a hard- working bunch of dwarves. Indeed, the humor that possesses them comes to the fore in these days of celebration. For example, the festival of the Lunar Eclipse described in this chapter runs until the next full moon. For a full month, the gnomes set their cares and chores aside, using the cosmic occasion as an excuse to gather from far and wide, spending their days and nights in a loud and boisterous celebration of themselves and their role in life.
Gods Of Gnomedom
Gnomes are not a tremendously devout folk, but they do have a well-developed pantheon of deities, and they like to honor their gods with frequent "observances"--rites that tend to be performed, naturally, as wild and raucous festivals. The major gods listed below are described in more details on pages 33-37 and 71 of DMGR4, Monster Mythology .
Garl Glittergold (Greater God) is the patriarch of the hierarchy and probably the most approachable of all the Greater Gods. He often travels the worlds looking for mischief to get into. He appears as a gold-skinned gnome with gemstone eyes that shift from sapphire to emerald to ruby.
A master of pranks, Garl is a good-humored jokester who is nevertheless proud and protective of his diminutive followers. His chief concerns are twofold: to see that gnomes every where cooperate and work together and to remind them that while life may sometimes be hard, it's important to always keep a sense of humor.
Garl carries his intelligent two-headed axe, Arumdina, every where he goes; she is more a companion than a possession. Although he is a capable fighter, he prefers to use trickery and illusions to accomplish his goals, and encourages his followers to do the same.
Baervan Wildwanderer (Intermediate God) is the most popular member of the pantheon after his friend Garl, for he is the protecter of the forests and glades that are so important to gnomish well-being. Even the Svirfneblin honor him as the "Father of Fish and Fungus." Baervan is also the patron of gnomish thieves and a mischief-maker to rival Garl himself. He is pictured as a spry old gnome with nut-brown skin and a jaunty beard. His friend and constant companion in his escapades is a giant raccoon named Chiktikka Fastpaws.
Callarduran Smoothhands (Greater God) is the master of stone, worshipped primarily by Svirfneblin. The Deep Gnomes consider him equal in might to Garl Glittergold, though he is largely ignored by the other subraces. It was Calladuran who taught Svirfneblin how to summon and befriend earth elementals. He will often send his avatar to aid his people; his appearance is that of a wiry Svirfneblin miner, indistinguishable from virtually any other Deep Gnome except for a golden ring with a star insignia he always wears.
Flandal Steelskin (Intermediate God), with his skin of mithril steel, eyes like flaming coals, and beard of silver-blue, is the patron of gnomish smiths--not just blacksmiths but also goldsmiths, silversmiths, and all other workers in metal. He is physically the strongest of the gnomish gods, and his uncanny ability to sniff of the veins of metal that thread through the earth makes him a patron of miners.
Segojan Earthcaller (Intermediate God) is a nature deity whose province is the creatures who burrow through the earth; he taught the gnomes how to befriend moles, badgers, and other subterranean animals. He appears as a grey-skinned gnome clad in armor made from grass and roots, accompanied by an intelligent stone golem.
Urdlen (Intermediate God)'s form is that of a white mole, hairless, sexless, and blind but with wicked claws of steel. A mindless force of malicious evil and destruction, Urdlen serves as a warning to every gnome to beware the taint of greed that lies within the gnomish delight in gems and jewelry. In keeping with the importance of a balance of forces, Urdlen's place in the pantheon is unquestioned, though the god is greatly feared and secretly reviled. Its few worshippers destroy gems and works of art to propitiate the god and thus are regarded as immoral villains by the bulk of gnomish society.
