Gnomish Grief

[I'm A Banana]

So, part of what sets aside gnomes in D&D is their propensity for pranks and levity. Halflings are cheery (or shady), dwarves are jovial (or dour), elves are bemused (or distant), but part of gnomish identity is tied up in trickery, pranks, and jabs.

In fleshing out a little something I'm working on, I've come to wonder: how do these fun-loving folks process death and tragedy?

As is often the case when I'm wondering about some bit of D&D, I'm usually sure someone somewhere has thought about this in more detail than I have. Official sources seem scant -- there's a bit in the 2e Gnome & Halfling book about how they're loud and emotional about grief (makes sense), but that it passes quickly and they wind up partying after it. That can work for certain scenarios (God knows I've been to wakes that turned out that way). But what if the tragedy is dire? How does a gnome community process something immense and deep? What if it was something like the stereotypical fantasy Doomed Hometown scenario, where something big and evil killed off most of the village (and might still cast a shadow over the world)? I can imagine elves would weep about it for millennia, dwarves would carve it into histories, and halflings would remember it as a cautionary tale, but gnomes? That doesn't seem like their style to me. But it also doesn't seem like they'd be the kind to just laugh it off -- they'd probably acknowledge it somehow. Especially if the fear remains unresolved -- if that monster's still out there, if the town is in a state of chaos, how do the gnomes acknowledge the bad situation? How do they deal with stress and fear when it's ongoing?

ENWorld is a great place to harvest ideas, typically. So what's yours?

 

[TarionzCousin]

Are these gnomes fey or not? I think it matters.

"Civilized" gnomes might hold wakes with lots and lots of food, illusion recaps of the deceased's life, or elaborate funeral rites involving gnomish deities.

Fey gnomes might commune with nature en masse or alone, gathering their clan and pets at the equivalent of an elephant's graveyard.

 

[the Jester]

They laugh it off, but using black humor. Gnomes have incredible, festive wakes.

In my game, another key element of gnomish society is a tendency toward secrecy and conspiracy. I'd imagine that nobody has ever found a gnomish graveyard, and outsiders don't get to see their funeral rites.

The greater a tragedy, the more a gnome or group of gnomes will conceal their feelings behind a mask of levity.

 

[I'm A Banana]

The greater a tragedy, the more a gnome or group of gnomes will conceal their feelings behind a mask of levity.

Hmmm....so, following this out, dragon comes to town and burns it to the ground killing a huge chunk of the village and hobgoblin slavers follow in its wake to press the survivors into slavery and magical experimentation...and the gnomes just have a maniacal laugh happening the whole time that their children are being killed?

If so, creepy!

Are these gnomes fey or not? I think it matters.

My first idea was more civilized, but I do like the idea of some massive central gravesite...an other place where the gnomes go that is not their home, that is not their village, where they give themselves permission to mourn....might fit nicely with [MENTION=1210]the Jester[/MENTION] 's idea of secretive gnomes...hmmm..

 

[tuxgeo]

Lamentation can be an art form. Gnomes are renowned for several things (e.g. illusion, trickery, friendship with burrowing animals, love of gold), but art isn't really one of them.

I'm reminded of the annual "Highland Games" as practiced in these parts: each competition festival is supposed to begin with a Lament. (Reasoning: If you don't recall the glories of those who went before, and vocally regret their passing, why would you expect anyone else to remember you?) In this same connection, some English poet commented that "The Scots are a people that the gods made mad. All their wars are merry and all their songs are sad."

Yeah, that kind of lamentation art -- gnomes aren't very good at it. I could envision them actively cracking wise in order to mask their grief. "The noble lady didn't die, she just went on a journey to Tipperary; and we expect her to come skipping back here any old day, carrying a harpoon and riding a tray."

Alright: not exactly like that; but I'm fairly sure they would never even think to hire paid mourners.

 

[Stormonu]

Hmmm....so, following this out, dragon comes to town and burns it to the ground killing a huge chunk of the village and hobgoblin slavers follow in its wake to press the survivors into slavery and magical experimentation...and the gnomes just have a maniacal laugh happening the whole time that their children are being killed?

If so, creepy!



My first idea was more civilized, but I do like the idea of some massive central gravesite...an other place where the gnomes go that is not their home, that is not their village, where they give themselves permission to mourn....might fit nicely with @the Jester 's idea of secretive gnomes...hmmm..

In your example, I'd imagine that the gnomes would construct a scathing ballad about the dragon, mocking it as a bumbling, slavering idiot that brought harm to the village. As each gnome is slain in the ballad, they die heroically (or comically - "With the dragon's great blast of wind did Harabe swoon a final swoon - and he took three good friends with him too") with a scathing barb pointed back at the dragon. Objectively, it would be a very dark story mourning each person lost, but wrapped in fond memories of what each gnome was known or remembered for.

 

[Sheepat]

Perhaps make it a holiday celebrating the deceased's lives? Something like a local festival held every year, where the gnomes reminisce about the dead's lives, drinking and be merry because they know that their dead comrades are probably somewhere better now. It isn't how or why they died, it's what they did when they were alive.

I'd imagine that they'd be in complete shock immediately after a tragedy, but overtime it would be an exciting party for those dead.

 

[steeldragons]

My initial thoughts, and it resonates quite well with the "noone's ever found a gnomish cemetery" above, were that the dead - either by family or animal friends or (my initial thought) clergy of the supreme gnomish deity (be it Garl or some other trickster type. In my homebrew, the gnomish deity is said to be the one responsible for placing/hiding all gemstones throughout the world. So something like that where the body is taken away and put somewhere, where almost no one knows where. perhaps with the further belief (or for some sects) that the gnomish deity will come collect them in his wanderings/travels to take him to the gem-filled paradise of gnomekind.

This ties into the gnomish culture/consciousness of their closeness to nature (be it forests or rocks) and their belief/understanding/acceptance that in the cycle of nature and birth/growth/death/rebirth...akin to our "energy is never created or destroyed". So the deceased is taken away and put somewhere with the complete knowledge and acceptance that they will be taken back into the earth/become part of the trees/stones to carry on into the gnomish afterlife. This is, of course, the greatest glory and desire for any gnomish soul. So, after a mournful ceremony, during which all gnomes will remove their colorful caps and hats - one of the truly rare occasions where this is sanctioned in public- and eulogize the deceased in truly heroic terms (outlandish tall tales being the norm), there is a truly celebratory vibe and feasting for the return of the gnome to the natural world.

Also, a gnome in mourning/funerary attire is somber in design and color. Dull browns and greys, though not usually black, the colors of the earth, as opposed to the bright rainbow clashing colors they very much prefer to wear otherwise. Brown, red or grey clay/paste/paint is smudged on the face, to mirror/respect the deceased's return to the earth and the living gnomes reminder that they too will some day find themselves "hidden among the stones."

As a side note, there may be a popular belief that treants and galeb durs are born from and/or actually the reincarnated spirits of the greatest/wisest/best gnomish souls.

 

[Starfox]

I prefer my gnomes a little fey, or crazy. They can take things in stride because compared to humans, their personalities lack "depth". They are what medieval people would call soulless. They are closer to animals than humans are, more immediate in their concerns, less dreamy and or worrying.

I also like fey to change with the times. The seelie and unseelie courts are not two entirely different things, it is faerie/nature showing two different faces to the world. The world in the daytime and nighttime look different, but it is really the same world. The same applies to the fey.

In my homebrew, all the "little" races are in fact one race. I call them hobs. This is a race of illusionists and pseudo-shapechangers. They cannot shapechange at will, but do so as a response to their environment. Halflings, goblins, gnomes, and redcaps are examples of how hob can manifest. When things are good, the hobs manifest in nice ways, as gnomes and halflings. When things are bad, they manifest as bad things - goblins and redcaps (and others, there are lots of bad little people). This explains how, as you break the curse of the blighted forest, it can suddenly be full of laughing gnomes when it used to be full of nasty goblins.

 

[I'm A Banana]

In your example, I'd imagine that the gnomes would construct a scathing ballad about the dragon, mocking it as a bumbling, slavering idiot that brought harm to the village. As each gnome is slain in the ballad, they die heroically (or comically - "With the dragon's great blast of wind did Harabe swoon a final swoon - and he took three good friends with him too") with a scathing barb pointed back at the dragon. Objectively, it would be a very dark story mourning each person lost, but wrapped in fond memories of what each gnome was known or remembered for.

That's an interesting take...almost like the the gnomes get angry about it, and take out their fury in barbs and jokes as a release valve. That dragon's not so great and scary, just a clumsy buffoon waiting for someone to take it down.

I wonder what their reaction would be with a natural disaster -- a landslide or a forest fire or something. Perhaps there's some nature god they can pass on as the butt of the jokes in this case...hmmm...