To be a gnome ...

To be a gnome is to experience everything to its fullest extent, to feel more keenly than others. To us, vistas only look right in brilliant sunrise or dazzling sunset— not even the most vibrant autumn hues make the world colorful enough. Drabness, always drabness... and boredom makes us drab as well, if we don’t take care to keep ourselves bright in spirit.

For members of other races, understanding gnomes is a task fraught with aggravation. Alien in mindset and physiology, stemming from a world far beyond mortal ken, gnomes are a mystery even to their closest companions. One minute they’re laughing with childlike glee over the shape of a particular cloud or displaying their vast collection of insect heads, and the next they’re singing a happy tune while wallowing shoulder-deep  in the intestines of a slain enemy. Gnomes have little patience for things they’ve already experienced; in fact,  they have a physiological need for constant change. Touched by their fey ancestry, they are constant  companions and dangerous unknowns—often at the same time. Their ethics and mindsets are inscrutable, and  their senses of humor creative and disturbing. Yet to most other races, gnomes are simply gnomes... and to ask for anything more is to invite disaster.

While gnome behavior confuses many, and their bizarre senses of humor can sometimes lead to inadvisable actions, their general lack of pretension or malice and their open, expressive faces often get them out of scrapes. That’s not to say there aren’t evil gnomes—and when a gnome goes bad, he tends to be even more grotesquely creative than most—but rather that, for those used to dealing with gnomes, unexplained and crazed behavior isn’t seen as inherently sinister, and most people living near gnomes spend a lot of time practicing tolerance and extending the benefit of the doubt.

Often the first things noticed about gnomes beyond their size and physical coloration is their clothing. Unless specifically attempting to camouflage themselves, most gnomes prefer clothing that is brightly colored, and often unique to the point of seeming bizarre. And even in those cases where a gnome is trying to avoid notice, he’s more likely to choose a ghillie suit or similarly over-the-top outfit than simple muted colors. This is not to say that gnomes aren’t capable of blending in, but rather that such considerations don’t come naturally to them. Unless enraptured by a particularly interesting cut or style, gnomes often lean toward utilitarian, loose-fitting clothing where feasible, with a particular penchant for pockets and other handy places to store their many collections and discovered treasures. Regardless of their armor or additional garb, gnomes almost always wear pocketed vests or bandoliers with pockets and pouches if they can get away with it. Finding something fascinating only to be forced to abandon it for lack of storage space is an avoidable tragedy that all gnomes experience at some point in their lives, and they guard themselves against it forever afterward.