Elves

''Currently, races are not yet implemented in game. What you see below is a representation of our future intentions, and is aspirational''

Elves are one of the races in SotE.

Elves are the longest living of all SotE races.

Poem From the Eons



Past swamps and sand and flatwood spans,

Past brush and scrub and pinewood stands,

Take me to the Elfwood,

Where trees grow tall and strong.

Where time is kept by old tree rings,

Where one wants not for anything,

Take me to the Elfwood,

Where youth is never gone.

Where squirrels play in emerald shades,

A place where Gaia spends her days,

Take me to the Elfwood,

To weep at Nature’s songs.

From where trees sprout up eons tall,

From where one watches mountains fall,

Take me to the Elfwood,

A place I can’t belong.

Description Elves are among the most K-selected races in the SotE world. They enjoy the longest life expectancy of all races, but this longer life comes with the disadvantage of an extremely slow maturation rate, higher caloric and nutrient needs than humans, and lower birth rates. Elves are physically frail but virtually immune to chronic diseases that would prematurely end their lives. On its face, these traits don’t appear to complement one another very well when it comes to longevity. However, elves have evolved exceptional dexterity and agility to avoid a violent end to an otherwise long life.

Their long lifespans dispose them heavily toward being “civilized,” but are able to survive comfortably as a feral race in late succession forests. When feral, they tend to be very shy and evasive, preferring never to be seen except by kin. A feral elf is nearly impossible to witness at all unless directly tracked, even to natural predators who share the same ecosystem.

Even in their civilized state, elves are considered fairly skewed toward specialization as opposed to generalism. While most specialist races lean toward specific climate types, elves are specialized for environments which are defensible in order to leverage the advantage of their long potential lifespan. Such environments include younger forests, isolated coastal river valleys, river confluences, remote mountain valleys or islands. Mature elvish societies are known to expand very slowly, but are extremely difficult to displace once established.

A side effect of an elf’s long lifespan is that they are acutely aware of environmental degradation. Shorter lived races often ignore the ill effects of deforestation and soil erosion either because they don’t live long enough to witness these long term disastrous effects or they (correctly) perceive that the ill effects are paid for by distant generations. Elves don’t have this luxury. A human who mines their soil for short term gains will die before they ever suffer the negative consequences. An elf who does the same will be farming hard scrabble before they’ve reached middle age.

For this reason, elves are most likely of all races to develop cultures and technology that revolve around conservation and long term sustainability. Elves don’t usually engage in traditional farming, but when they do, they aggressively employ terracing, no till agriculture, cover crops, and other techniques to maintain soil depth. More often though, elvish societies practice various forms of silviculture and agroforestry. Forest elves who emerge from a feral state tend to gradually alter their forest environments to meet their needs. Over the eons, they replace the non-fruiting plants with selectively bred fruit and nut trees, then install vined vegetables like gourds and beans along the trunks and canopies. Biological waste is tossed to the forest floor and aggregated in middens, where mushrooms are grown and compost is generated. A side effect of long term elvish habitation of a given forest is the creation of spectacularly deep and fertile terra preta soil. When witnessed by other races from the outside, these unique, managed forest ecosystems are frequently referred to as “Elf Woods.”

Civilized elves frequently employ growth alteration methods on certain K-selected trees to create the scaffolding for homes or larger structures. They are also known to create “sky gardens” atop such trees as well, where they transplant terra preta soil and grow leafy vegetables, spices, and herbs that can no longer be grown at the forest floor due to light restrictions. In fact, in advanced Elvish late succession forest societies, very little light makes it to the forest floor, thus a large proportion of social activity exists toward the canopy. At the forest bottom, older elvish societies construct sophisticated irrigation networks to hydrate the soil and prevent forest fires.

As civilized elvish societies age, they also begin to replace the other inhabitants of the forest as well. Animals that once ran wild are domesticated and selectively bred for food or other resources. Those that do not serve a purpose--- either for their role as a resource or for their ecosystem services--- are gradually driven to local extinction. Fat, meaty squirrels lumber across the trees. Aquacultured mussels and carp dwell in pools beneath the trees. Cuddly tree sloths are kept for companionship, but also for their exceptionally hard, sharp, and trimmable claws. Even the insects of the forest are brought to bear for the purpose of elder elvish civilization. Juicy termites, honeypot ants, and honey bees are all meticulously cultured for food or selectively bred for venom which may be used in warfare. While not known to be exceptional miners, elves will selectively breed animals with incredibly hard and resilient bones or thick hides which can be used for either construction material or components in weapons and armor.

The only predators that remain in the forests are those which were domesticated, thus Elf Wood tends to be an exceptionally safe place for its elvish residents. Because they feel safer at home, civilized elves are almost always less shy and more curious about the outside world than feral elves. That being said, their attitude toward the outside world is very different than most other races. Permanent residents or citizens of other races and cultures are extremely rare in most elder Elvish Societies. Such societies fear the risk of spies, but fear just as much the dangers of new ideas.

That’s not to say that members of these elder elvish societies don’t enjoy the occasional visitor, but they do so in the way that humans enjoy circus animals or freak shows: as a curiosity that won’t remain in their community for long. A lion in a cage that breezes through town is interesting for a few days, but begins to be perceived as a danger if it lingers indefinitely. Naïve outsiders who don’t understand elvish languages and mannerisms will often report their elvish hosts as being extremely kind and generous during their brief stays. Scholars fluent in the nuances of elvish culture, however, know better. Visitors from the outside are viewed as either cute, naïve children or pitiable, primitive barbarians in need of charity.

Elder forest-dwelling elvish societies rarely leave home to strike at enemies far from their forest homes. Instead, elves will often pursue multi-century plans to either outlast their enemies or encroach upon their territories by promoting the growth of forests (from which they can easily strike their enemies, then retreat to the safety of the trees). Pushing the boundary of the forest results in higher rates of evapotranspiration, transforming the baseline biome and altering local rainfall patterns. From these expanded buffer zones elves can then launch raids against their enemies, weaken the hinterland of their enemies, and then swallow that hinterland in new forest from whence they can launch further raids. Typically, this pressure--- when considered in conjunction with the usual bouts of political turmoil that exists in the societies of younger races--- is enough to defeat most threats.

There is one way conspicuous way in which civilized elves are eager to connect in a positive fashion with the other races: the spice trade. An elves’ longevity is contingent on satisfying a radically diverse diet. An elf requires many fold more vitamins, minerals, and other trace nutrients in order to meet the needs of their internal cellular repair mechanisms, and it can be challenging (or impossible) to meet those needs domestically. Thus, elvish civilized societies are known to create “trade zones” on the edge of their forest territories, where they actively court spice merchants from abroad. As an aside, Elvish cooking is by default gourmet, and to the outsider, their food is perceived to be either famously delicious or famously painful.

In return, elven masterwork goods and knowledge are sought after, as they have no equal. Elves thrive at intellectual pursuits and artistry, as a single individual can continue to expand their understanding of the world and hone their skills for many years. An elven scholar is unrivaled in the breadth of their knowledge, and an elven smith who has spent 500 years mastering their swordsmithing has no equal. Because elves are lower in number than other races, however, masterwork elven goods are known to be extremely rare in the world at large.

When elvish leaders allow members of their societies to travel abroad for reasons other than securing the spice trade, it is usually with the pretext of understanding threats and challenges that exist abroad, not generally out of some intrepid spirit of exploration. In elder elvish societies, its common to hear phrases like: “No elf ever grew as old as the hills by wondering what was beyond the next hill.” Cultural cautionary tales abound about the young elf that integrated into the fast paced culture of another race, only to find that culture having turned on them once the generation that had initially welcomed them had been put in the ground.

Elvish caution is understandably accompanied with elvish political conservatism. Not only is “what we already know” safer, but it takes longer for newer generations with fresher ideas to replace older generations with entrenched ideas. This typically results in highly sophisticated, refined elvish cultures which are slow to adapt and evolve. Elves are known to have an exceptional, deep understanding of the world, but that deep understanding is often resistant to revision.

While outsiders might assume that elves are somehow innately conservative, this is not the case. The dilemma of the elf is simply that their long lives make overt risks less rewarding. An elvish society may very well decide to develop or adopt the intrepid and adventurous cultural attitudes often associated with humans or goblins, but would find themselves severely punished and less able to recover from calamities that incur casualties. The result is a kind of societal natural selection process whereby adventurous elvish societies are culled while cautious ones endure. However, there should be many circumstances whereby elves might mitigate these vulnerabilities. For instance, Elves that form mutualistic or parasitic relationships with other races might overcome the drawbacks of a more ambitious, outward looking societal perspective. An agrarian elvish society living in the open plains might develop a hegemony among other nearby races. A multiracial army with a core of elite elvish archers need not ever face the risks of direct combat, leaving most of the casualties to faster growing humans or  orcs. What’s more, the elves might not bother farming at all, but instead exist in a fortified metropolis as the “intelligencia” class in a given region, trading their educational services, bureaucratic management, and production of artisanal goods for a rich diet of foodstuffs.

In warfare, virtually every soldier of civilized elvish societies are either veteran or elite. In most cases, they are trained for decades before they ever risk their lives in the field of battle. While perfectly willing to fight, they tend to avoid pitched battles as best they can, and thus rely on skirmishing and ambushes using bows and other ranged weapons. If forced into a direct battle (for instance, if a holy site or ancient grove were attacked) then elvish soldiers would be devastating nonetheless. However, the great weakness of elvish armies is their inability to replenish casualties. While the average elvish soldier can have lifetimes worth of combat experience, a human society can replenish their ranks in a few years in the face of a single terrible defeat. An elvish society facing that same defeat could be a 500 year setback.

Statistics Note that Humans are a baseline of 100 on most statistics Primary statistics

Nutrition needs

Body attributes

Composite statistics