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.
Those on the ground got to their feet and stared after
the contrivance. 'What was that he was shouting?" Jilian
asked. "What kind of words were those?"
"Gnomenclature," the human sighed. He turned to the
enthralled kender. "My name is Wingover," he said. "I'm
in charge of this expedition... or at least I keep telling
myself that. And I guess if we're to learn anything, it will
have to be from you."
* * * * *
The refugees from the Vale of Respite had moved far-
ther west, deeper into Waykeep Valley. Pens were being
built for livestock, and a few huts had been erected for
the sick and injured. Exploring parties were ranging out-
ward, followed by gatherers gleaning field and forest for
supplies to help last out the winter. And a strong guard
perimeter was maintained to the east, though there had
been no evidence of any further pursuit.
Though he was anxious to be on his way, Chane Feld-
stone had put off his quest long enough to build a sturdy
pit-forge and begin the making of tools that the refugees
would need. Scavengers from both the human and dwar-
ven camps were sifting through the ruins of nearby an-
cient gnomish artifacts, recovering metal to be fired and
beaten into tools and weapons to replace things they had
left behind when the goblin force attacked
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