Here you are again, in this village. They aren't gnomes, but they treat you kindly. Not everyone has it seems. That's why you stay here, you think. You can't go back to Talin they said. Because of that bugbear with the mace. You can't hardly see the scars anymore, and your hair grew back. Good as new. You think.
It's hard to remember, sometimes, what was before. You were good at making stuff. Now, you have trouble with the tools. Things should fit, but they don't, and you can't see how to make them. At least they don't laugh at you here. That's probably why you stick around.
You wonder sometimes, where the gnomes with you ended up. Did the bugbears get them? It's fuzzy, but you don't think so. Maybe they went home without you. Why would they do that, though? Maybe you should go home too. Wherever home is. You tried to get on the boat, but when they asked where you wanted to go, you couldn't remember. So you just walked away. Somehow, you got here.
But it's nice here. The rooms are cheap. At least, you think they are. The stack of coppers on your nightstand doesn't seem to have changed the whole time you've been here. Maybe you should bring the firewood in for the cook, she looks tired. Seems you've done that a few times before, least you could do. They are nice to you, after all. Maybe you should stick around a while, until you figure out what it was you were supposed to be doing before that bugbear took a swipe at you. It's hard to remember sometimes.

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