When I first set quill to parchment and called myself a chronicler, it was like learning a new dance. Clumsy, off-beat, laughable to any with an ear for rhythm. I’m a fantastic dancer now, mind you — practice makes the difference. That’s the truth of any art. Painters, smiths, sculptors, singers — the great ones never pretend they sprang fully formed. They’ll point to their missteps, their crooked brushstrokes, their off-tempo notes, and say, “Here. This is where I began.”
I know a fire dwarf — Garv, son of the embers, really more elemental than dwarf — who keeps the first mace he ever forged above his hearth. Adamantite, no less. To me, it’s a masterpiece. To him, it’s shame incarnate: the balance imperfect, the pommel oversized, the studs misaligned. Yet in battle? Skullmasher, as he named it, is the only weapon he trusts. Proof, I suppose, that even our flaws can split skulls if swung with conviction.
My point as it were, is that I know I have touched upon the elves once before. I’ve received mostly positive feedback from those that have read it, or heard the early songs about them. However, like Garv, I see the flaws in the cadence, the lack of knowledge that could be shared, among other things. So I return to the elves, and likely will return again in the future. Art is ever-evolving. It changes me; why shouldn’t my songs — and yes, even my bonnets — change as well?
So let us begin anew. You may think you know elves, but I assure you — you don’t. Not truly. Even they don’t.
The elves are the second long-lived of the major sentient beings after dragons. The elves, like the dwarves, were created to be servitors to dragons. The elves were created by the celestial dragons, while the dwarves were formed by the elemental dragons. The elves eventually were granted freedom after they “showed promise” with spellcraft. They then began to grow and spread out on the surface. Eventually they would form kingdoms that comprised a mighty elf empire. It is these kingdoms that came into conflict with the dragons, as well as the dwarves when the latter began exploring the surface.
The culmination of these events was the Three Crowned War, where elf, dwarf, and dragon fought each other for control of Duir’Aion. The war saw catastrophic loss of life on all three sides, and only came to a head with the signing of the Martyr Compact. The treaty, which was to prevent more bloodshed proposed that each party would sacrifice a clan to the treaty. Those clan would be banished to a far away realm, never to return, but ostensibly live in peace. This was to symbolize the potential loss of life, without the resentment that would follow if said clan (or numbers of the clan) were to perish by dwarf or dragon means. Thus was born the Martyr Compact, not in glory, but in grief — a pact written not in ink, but in absence.
The elves following their very nature chose to let luck decide. A great lottery was held, and at the end the sky elves were chosen for the sacrifice. Can you imagine letting the fate of a people come down to the roll of a die, or name out of a hat? I’m all for a friendly wager – I’m pretty sure that’s how I ended up with a husband, and a wife – but nothing quite so serious. It should be noted that the Three Crowned War had the unforeseen effect of beginning the demise of the elf, dwarf and dragon empires. None of which ever truly recovered.
Prior to the Three Crowned War, the elves had fourteen mighty kingdoms that stretched beneath the ancient forests of old. Afterwards only seven remained, and most had lost too many numbers to adequately sustain a kingdom. In the span of five hundred years, a long time for most of the mortal races, but likely way too fast for elf sensibilities, the empire was no more. Only two kingdoms remained. The entire elven people hold Tanar’atalai sacred, as it is the final refuge of the elves. A hidden land of myth and beauty folded in the space between Duir’Aion and the Dreamwyld, where the Fey make their home.
The two most powerful kingdoms, that of the Spire elves and the Valley elves merged by marriage in order to create a more united people. The Queen of the Stars Shevarash Tular’aliayns (in some circles, Queen of the Spire), and the King of the Moon Nomuar Altiansael were set to usher in a new world for their people. The king was assassinated, a major stain on the honor of the Gryphon Riders escort. The elves don’t talk about it. Which means they talk about it constantly, just not to you. In order to maintain peace, the Queen took the power of the King and divided it among the highest ranking valley elf nobles, creating the Court of the Moon. Together, their priority is to protect Tanar’atalai. They also wish to maintain and grow their kingdom, hoping to recreate their empire. Every elf of the world is a citizen of Tanar’atalai and can if able seek sanctuary there. The Eternal Forest was and is the ancestral home the valley elves, and Tanar’atalai is only accessible from within its borders. You do not go into the Eternal Forest unless you are considered elf-friend. Fortunately, I have plenty of friends among elvenkind. Might even be married — depends on which version of the vows you believe. Either way, I should probably give up feywine. Dangerous stuff.
The other kingdom, is the sea elf kingdom of Zan’zriah. The sea elves are a violent militaristic race. They were before the war, and they remained afterwards. If anything they grew even more warlike. The seek dominance over the seas, and as such come into conflict with the Imperial Navy of the minotaurs, and the Shadur’khan, dragon descended beings who also claim mastery of the sea. Another three-way war is imminent.
Now lets have a look at the elves that remain:
Valley Elves – “As fickle as the seasons, as dependable as the dawn, and untamable as a unicorn.”
When one thinks of an elf, a valley elf is what they usually expect. Also called wood, forest, or moon elves, they’re tall, slender, and beautiful. They’re the elf folks who favor villages hidden in green valleys or deep woods. It’s said no valley elf home has a ceiling, so both sun and moon can bless their hearth. Their ancestral home is in the Eternal Forest, the kingdom that once existed there lies in ruins, but the Queen of Stars moved their home to Tanar’atalai. The ruins are still guarded, as is the forest, both are considered sacred.
Their stealth is unmatched by all but the most skilled rogues and assassins. Generally speaking, the only way an offender even knows he’s being hunted by a valley elf is when he blinks, and there is a knife at his throat. I wandered too close to an elven graveyard one fine evening, and picked up a sentinel. Just to see how serious he was about his task, I stayed in the same place for two days, working on a few ballads. Loudly. On the second night, I poured two glasses of feywine, and placed one at the foot of the tree nearby. And quietly asked if he was going to make me drink alone. The elf literally melted out of the tree. He asked how did I know he was there. He apparently hadn’t had dealings with a minotaur before. I smiled and said, “The nose knows.” In response he helped fix the song I was stuck with. I still receive a bottle every few months from “an observer”.
Their skin runs pale to olive, their hair usually brown or black. Every so often, though, one is born with blonde, pink, or even green hair. These births are taken as portents of greatness, though I’ve seen more than a few of those “portents” passed out drunk under their own oak tree. Their eyes range from brown to deep blue, with light shades being rare enough to mark you at a glance.
Valley elves are friendly toward most races, save orcs. Like all elves, they hate orcs with a passion that burns hotter than dwarven forges. They share a kingdom with the spire elves — though in truth, with the exception of the sea folk, every elf bends knee to the Court and Queen of Tanar’atalai.
Valley elves are the wanderers. You’ll find them in human towns, dwarven halls, even the occasional halfling village. Two-thirds of all half-elves, in fact, carry valley blood. When they chose to stay still they do so with the same gusto that caused the wanderlust to begin with. I’ve met an elf mastersmith of a dwarven forge – the most lethal arrows, and flawlessly balanced swords you can imagine, an elf sheriff in a human village – devoid of most crimes, even an elf captain of an all ogre ship – Not sure what’s more intriguing, the captain, or the fact that she’s teaching the ogres, elf shipwright techniques. A massive boat that’s faster than nearly everything at sea, the Pounder is one of the most successful buccaneers in the Sea of Kings.
Loyal to their Court, yes, but they balk at being penned up in Tanar’atalai. Out of all the elves who receive a summons from the elven homeland – usually by fairy messengers – they’re also the ones more likely to turn it down. They’re the most free-spirited of their kin, quick to bond, quick to trust. Long-lived, yes — with even longer memories — but gods, they love their chaos.
One must remember that the wanderlust is part of their blood, and it affects everything they do. Even the elf smith will eventually leave Shatterstone, and the foundry will be weaker for it. A curious note, valley elves do marry. On occasion the couple will stay rooted for sometime. Sometimes they’ll wander together. They can go many decades without seeing each other, but often feel as much in love as they did when they chose to bind their fate to another. It is one of the only customs the valley elves hold dear.This earring? A gift from one, at a party I attended. It was a wild night. I blame the satyr.
Spire Elves – “If you want to feel small, stand next to a spire elf. They’ll make sure you know your worth.”
There is something to be said about the regalness of Spire elves. It is almost mythical in nature. Part of it is the fact that they are not commonly seen. Most mortals can live their entire lives and never see one. Just shy of xenophobic, spire elves prefer their own for company more than anything else. Everyone else, is beneath them, even other elves. Patronizing is a kind word. Spire elves believe in the purity of their line. They claim to be direct descendants of the Ma’Dara. They also claim the Ma’Dara were descended from Titans and not dragons. Which amuses the hell out of me. Even if it’s true, dragons ARE Titans, on a smaller scale. Which means the purity they believe in, doesn’t even exist as that would make them part dragon. Got into a debate about that with a spire elf bard. I’m not sure he understood the concept of bard. He should’ve called himself a spire elf cheerleader. There’s a place for that, but a bard needs to have a more open mind. Yes I’m biased, but I’m also right. That debate turned sour unfortunately, when said paragon bard decided to compare me and my intellect to livestock. He had to make do with looking down a broken nose, till he could find a healer. Forgive me, I digress…
Spire elves are the tallest of all the elves, which I suppose makes it impossible to not look down on everyone else. They are pale of complexion typically, almost glowing like pearl. Some are born with a golden hue. The gold hue is a sign of status. Their hair tends to be light colored, yellow, golden or even white are common. Their eyes are beautiful, literally any color of gem you can imagine, although rubies are rare, sapphires, amethyst and gold are most common. They are innately magical too. Every spire elf has a touch of magic about them, many have a minor cantrip they can use once or twice a day. Their over reliance on magic shows in their slender builds. They also tend to favor jewelry. They drip in it, because of course they do.
How the mighty have fallen. The spire elves were once the pinnacle of elven grace, magic and combat. Also known as mountain, golden, and paragon elves (the latter they swear they didn’t create), the spire elves did host a large number of archmagi in ancient times. They were the first to achieve demi-magi status, wielding magic that rivaled the gods. While it’s not their fault, their achievements inspired other, not quite so patient races, to do the same. Which ultimately led to the almost unraveling of reality, and the subsequent recall of all high magic. It was they who created the flying cities, as well as the aetherunes, protective sigils that surround most elven settlements. It is believed the magic of the Forest of Dreams was created when the city of Kor’Korai fell from the sky, it’s potent aetherunes combining with the natural magic of the forest.
They prefer aeries, beautiful and magically carved homes set into cliffside and mountain peaks, though they occasionally make do with settlements to homes on the ground. Like most elves, they prefer to enhance nature, rather than tear something down. So they will use magic to weave stone, tree and earth into desired shapes. As noted earilier, spire elves are a deeply proud and honestly arrogant people. The believe in purity, and as a rule, they won’t even marry a non spire elf. Exceptions exist obviously, but those relationships face scrutiny. Interestingly enough, there is no such thing as a “working” class among the spire elves. Everything is taken to a level of mastery. So even the farmers are respected as much as a smith, or wizard. As a people, there is no race that has the strongest allegiance to their rulers, with the dwarves being a possible exception. Spire elves wait for the invitations that arrive mystically once or twice a year, calling them to Tanar’atalai. Almost always these invites are sent to the best of the best in a chosen profession. While waiting for these callings, All spire elves are preparing themselves for the inevitability of the elven empires rise. Honestly if it wasn’t for the exquisite spire elf Xyn’Nedra Vaeros, I wouldn’t have much to say about them. Nothing kind at any rate. Then she’ll smile, and every insult vanishes, like the cask of feywine we “liberated” from malcontents.
Sea Elves – “Sea elves are just like the ocean. Familiar. Beautiful. Will drag you down to the darkness in a blink of an eye. Or, if you’re lucky, they’ll end you quickly. I’ll let you decide which fate’s kinder.”
There’s a difference between a fresh captain, and experienced one, and a veteran. A fresh captain is aware of the dangers – storms, kraken, merfolk, sirens, sharks, dancing squids – and likely scared of them all. An experienced captain is wary of storms and the true horrors of the deep. A veteran captain fears one thing. Sea elves. For that captain knows you can navigate a storm, you can kill a shark, you can even negotiate with sharks. Sea elves are death from below.
Sea elves stand about a head shorter than typical elves. Take into account that they do tend to slouch when out of the water. It could be the buoyancy they’re used to is gone, or bad posture is genetic. Don’t underestimate them, their bodies are pure muscle. Pound for pound they are the strongest of the elves, and some of their champions can rival even minotaurs in a gnome tossing contest. Their eyes are almond shaped like their surface dwelling kin, a little larger, slightly bulbous. Their hands and feet are webbed, though the web is more pronounced on their feet. Both end in razor sharp talons. They don’t need weapons. The sea gave them all they’d ever need — claws for tearing, teeth for scaring, and ears big enough to hear your last prayer, or the glub glub of your attempt. Their gills are located behind their large ears. Sea elf ears don’t taper like other elves. They’re fanned and webbed, layered like a shell pulled apart. Not one ear, but many stitched together — perfect for catching the crash of waves, or the scream of prey. Their mouths are almost too wide, and their is nothing elegant about a sea elf smile. All those needle sharp teeth tend to kill the mood. Pun intended.
Their skin color varies, and is directly affected by their home environments. This is nature at its most wondrous and most cruel. Face on, regardless of color is always paler then the back. The only constant is that the deeper the sea elf lives, the darker they tend to be. A sea elf from the frozen north, has pale blue almost white coloring if he’s from the rivers, or the deepest blue if he lives in deeper waters. A sea elf from the tropical oceans has iridescent skin, and I’ve heard tell that the ones near the Maelstrom are almost translucent.
Sea elves are very territorial. As a rule, the sea elves consider the entire ocean theirs. Every other being in the ocean is trespassing. How trespassers are dealt with depends on what the sea elves are currently doing. Reavers, or raiding parties, don’t take prisoners. They board a vessel, kill everyone on board, and take everything of value. They tend to prefer shiny things like coins and jewelry, and beautiful weapons and armor. Hunting parties are arguably worse. A typical party will gather up the crew, take any spoils, and return to the ocean, crew in nets, the water silencing any protests. A party with a druid or cleric in its ranks, will likely cast a water breathing spell on the captives. In both case, the captives will end up on the menu.
The fact that they are essentially fighting a war on multiple sides, with the kuo toas (fishfolk), aboleths, minotaurs, shadur-kahns, and humans is the only reason their numbers aren’t higher. All sea elves align themselves with Zan’zriah. Those that don’t are not considered sea elves, and are often punished. The most common, aside from feeding giant sharks, or squids, is the burning of their gills, forcing them to live among the land prey.
I’ll tell you why I don’t talk about them lightly. Before I was Chord, I was a first mate on a ship that met a reaver patrol… We took heavy losses quickly, and would have been overrun had I not decided then and there to embrace the skald tradition. The music filled me, and the crew harmonized around me. Against all odds we won. Of course, my father found out later on and my victory became the stain of dishonor. Ah well, I look better in white leather, than the blood red of the Imperial Navy Uniform. Besides, do you know how long it takes for me to get sea salt out of my fur? Long enough to make a minotaur swear off swimming.
I think this is an excellent place to pause, as my inkpot is nearly as empty as my glass. Do not be fooled, there are more clans of elves to discuss, these are even more mysterious than the sea elves. From the frost elves in their icy homes, to the deep dwelling stone elves, or the previously though extinct winged elves, there are more varieties of elf to showcase. Perhaps I will regale you the mysteries of the Aether dwelling star elves. I definitely have to include the Rune elves, sooner rather than later. For now, I believe the sentinel is approaching, rare vintage in tow.
And so I close my book, for tonight at least. The elves are like any art worth keeping — flawed, brilliant, ever-changing. They pretend to be timeless, yet their story is nothing but change: kingdoms fallen, vows broken, marriages remade, songs rewritten. They are brushstrokes that will never dry, a dance that never truly ends.
If Garv’s Skullmasher taught me that even a lopsided mace can split skulls when swung with conviction, then the elves have taught me this: even broken empires cast long shadows. And sometimes, what grows in the shadow is more beautiful than what stood in the light.
So drink, my friends, and remember: when next I put quill to parchment, the elves will not be as I left them. Nor, I suspect, will I.
Always take time to savor the music”
– Chord, the Ivory Bard
A Darkness Rising 