Victor Thistlefoot doesn’t stay in one place for long. Some gnomes build homes; he keeps his boots ready. It’s not restlessness — more a quiet pull toward what’s beyond the next bend.

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He walks old paths and forgotten roads, content to let curiosity decide the direction. His hat’s weathered, his boots are worn, but his spirit’s light — the kind that notices small things and leaves places better than he found them.

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He listens more than he speaks, but when he does, his stories have a way of following you long after he’s gone.

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