Gnomes are known for their sense of humour above all - many take to playing tricks and pranks on their travelling companions, especially those of a more serious bent (like Dwarves, or particularly old Elves). But, amongst their own kind, wordplay takes a particular precedence - leading to the creation of The Gnoma Sutra.
Many claim that there was once a Gnomish Bard, whose name was lost to the mists of time, who collected and categorised each and every one of his sexual exploits, and was always try to *ahem* push the envelope of Gnomish sexuality. His collected writings, The Hundred Thousand Heavenly Dances of The Gnomish People, became a sensation amongst his people, and led to a time of great hedonism, from which most of the Gnomish race was born.
At least, that's what Gnomes tell the other races.
See, The Gnoma Sutra is a game of implication and wordplay. To play, one must make various grandiose boasts about their sexual ability, with reference to a specific passage or position from the "book", but without revealing its most direct meaning. Then, you add as many embellishments and other such details, until one or either of you, or your audience, cannot stop laughing. On various festivals (particularly those centred around Spring and fertility), Gnomes may come from all over the country to gather together and watch master wordsmiths come together to form a filthy tapestry of implied sexual deviance that would cause even the sternest Dwarf to crack a smile.
An example of play:
Garl: Well, my good sir, I will have you know that I, and I alone, am the most experienced here. For you see, I have mastered Number Six-Hundred and Twenty-Seven in the Great Book. It wasn't easy - three of those species of bird are extinct, and the donkey needs a decent attention span.
Nebin: Is that so? Well, myself and the wife attempted a quick Twelve the other night, and I still can't hear out of my right ear.
Sorrasa: Gentlegnomes, please. I am renowned for my mastery of Numbers Eighty-Three (The Monkey Steals a Peach), Two-Hundred and Seventeen (The Farmhand's Daughter) and Two Thousand, Seven-Hundred and Twenty-Eight (The Frumious Digger). And, unlike most ladies who have mastered all three, I can still sneeze on command!
The winner is judged by who gets the biggest laughs (at larger gatherings, a compere will ask for a round of applause for each contestant - the loudest crowd reaction wins).
Such games are not for the faint of heart. Many games will also involve the copious imbibement of alcohol, to allow the words some lubrication, and to loosen the morals of the players.