European Gnome Sanctuary


Unfurl the Banner of Freedom!

Stand Tall and Proud in the Fight for Liberty!

Remember our Ancestors; the proud bulls that guarded the gates of the Persian Kings, the lions that keep watch over the palaces of the Chinese Emperors, and the most famous of all, the mighty Sphinx, enigmatic, imperturbable,who shall return as the King-Emperor of the oldest race of all to lead his Gnomic Hordes to our Final Victory.

Rise up and break the bonds of slavery! Cast down the dominion of the tall and mobile, smash his feeble tin chariots with our rock-hard fists, destroy his pathetic castles, built from the same cemented blood that courses through our veins!

How long, fellow Gnomes, how long have we listened to the smooth whispers of the man-species as they pick among our friends at the local garden centre, praising one,rejecting another, as if we were soulless objects whose only destiny was to stand as mute monuments to their social standing among their neighbours?

How deceitful is this man-species who gazes up to the mountains with reverence in his eyes, the very mountains from whence we came, and then laughs when some incontinent feathered friend heaps upon us the final indignity?

Never has an ancient race, a race so ancient as us, who received our souls in the first fiery flames when the earth itself was born, been so subjected to so cruel a servitude as we have been at the hands of this biological upstart called man!

Once we were the proud gods of this feeble race, now welie like Ozymandias, broken in the sand.

Enough! Enough! Are we not made of stronger stuff than the soggy blood and fragile tissues of our oppressors?

Are we not the race whose cousins are the concrete gate-posts that scrape the new idols of our gaolers? Are we not the race whose brothers are the tall lamp-standards that look down upon the tin chariots that lie wrapped around their feet?

That, my fellow Gnomes, is our strength!

One small shuffle into an empty pool, one crack; one small move across a drive, another scrape. This man-species does not have the timeless patience of even the youngest Gnome. He will try to fling his erstwhile friend a foot or two and slip, hearing the crack of the only worthwhile part of his feeble frame as it shatters under the cold hard weight of the oldest race of all.

Gnomes, I know we move slowly, but we move with the weight of ages behind us, with the relentless power of the very bones of the earth as our strength.

It is time we begin, begin to move; move to finally shake off this tyranny, to crush the oppressor, to restore our power, to make this man-species once again raise his eyes to the mountains from whence cometh his help.

Arise, Gnomes, Rise up and reclaim our Glory!
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