Story
They took my son when he was scarcely forty years old, still a child among our kind. The humans raided the coast, and though we fought, they dragged him away in chains. I followed, unseen, across river and plain, until the trail ended in the city of stone.
I learned that he had been taken to the arena. A boy forced to fight beasts with trembling hands, a bronze collar around his neck, his cries drowned by the crowd’s cheers. The beasts savaged him, and he bled like fire until there was nothing left. I was too late.
That day I swore that the slaver who stole him would die by my hand.
I went into the forest and made it my prison. For a hundred years I trained my body. For a hundred more I learned every poison and blade. For yet another hundred after that I studied silence itself, until even the owls did not hear me pass. The years came and went, but my oath did not.
At last I returned. I traced the old roads, the forgotten paths, and I came again to the city of stone. The streets had changed, the walls rebuilt, the houses shifted like leaves in the wind. I asked of the slaver. No one knew the name. I searched the records. Dust filled my mouth. He had died two centuries past, rotted into the ground, his bones as common as any farmer’s.
I stood in front of the arena where my son had bled. The stones were still stained with dried blood. The crowd still roared for fresh blood. And I knew then that my vengeance had outlived its prey.
Now I walk the world with a blade no longer aimed at one man, but at an empire. The slaver is gone, but his kind still live. And so my oath remains.

The elves are a people apart. They resemble slender humans with long ears and carry an aura that makes mortals feel they are not wholly anchored in the world. They move lightly, tire slowly, and care little for heat or frost. They seem to slip through time as well as space, for they age only when the world forces it upon them through accident, violence, or disease.

Origin and Nature

It is said they came after the world was made, stepping in from another place. Because of this they never truly belong. The land resists them. Bronze wounds fester in them, the metal seeming to pin them to a world that will not heal them. Even the touch of bronze is unpleasant to them.

Their lives stretch into centuries, even millennia for those who hide from the world. Time does not weigh upon them as it does mortals. They can vanish into a single craft or study for lifetimes, until the world changes around them without their notice.

Strengths and Weaknesses

Elves are not strong in body. They disdain the chaos of battle and rarely take up arms as soldiers. Yet those who give themselves to killing can train for centuries, honing their patience into something terrifying. Few things are more dangerous than an elf who has decided to end a life. Forced into open conflict, they excel in ambush, sabotage, and misdirection, vanishing into woods and shadows until the enemy is worn thin.

Society

Their cultures differ greatly, from wandering bands who live lightly in forest glades, to marble cities where every building is a monument to centuries of art. Some keep slaves, not from cruelty but from a refusal to spend their immortal hours on what they consider petty tasks. Such slaves are usually left to govern themselves so long as they provide food, clothing, and labor. In other elven realms, slavery is an abomination, and mortals are welcomed as partners in art, ritual, or trade.

Elven society knows no division between male and female. Their rarity of children makes each birth a festival, the infant regarded as a treasure by the entire community. Lovers are rare, as the long obsessions of the elves leave little room for bonds of passion, it it seldom last berore their obsessions lead them apart again.

Magic

Their weak tie to the world limits them. While human mages might twist the world with will alone, elves must entreat, cajole, and shape it through ritual. Circles of stone, hours of chant, nights of dance, only then does the world consent to yield. Yet their patience makes them masters of ritual craft, building workings that may endure for centuries.

The Alien Mind

To mortals, elves seem strange not only in body but in thought. Their span of attention can stretch across generations, yet they may ignore what happens in the moment before their eyes. They remember the smallest detail of a song sung three hundred years ago, but forget to eat for days. Their priorities are not those of mortals: beauty, craft, and obsession matter more than gold or glory.

Those who spend time with elves often feel unsettled, sensing both the grace and the distance of a people not wholly of this world.

Possible Secrets

The Hollow Tree

In one ancient forest stands a tree older than any elf. Within its hollow heart sleeps an elven king who refused death. His followers keep his existence hidden, feeding him with songs and blood.

The Bronze Bargain

A sect of elves secretly forges and wields bronze, despite its danger to them. They claim the pain sharpens their will and gives them insight into truths other elves cannot see.

The Immortal Garden

Deep beneath the ruins of an old elven city lies a garden where no leaf has ever withered. It is tended by slaves whose families have been bound there for a thousand years. None of the elves remember why.

The First Oath

Elves were once sworn to serve another race, older than humans, whose bones lie buried in the eastern deserts. Some elves still whisper their true names when casting rituals.

The Ash-Sleepers

When elves burn their dead, sometimes the ashes breathe. A few are gathered into urns and guarded, for from them new bodies might one day form.

The Colorless Ones

Rare elves are born without aura, their presence heavy instead of light. Many are killed at birth, but some live, blending with mortals, often becoming sorcerers.

The Moon Pact

Once, in ages past, the elves bound themselves to the moon in exchange for longevity. If the moon were ever shattered, their kind would wither in a single generation.

Adventure Hooks

The Silent Caravan

An elven caravan carrying priceless works of art has gone missing between two cities. The party is hired to track them down, only to find the elves themselves wandering in a strange trance, having forgotten their own names.

The Bronze Offering

A human lord has insulted an elven delegation by presenting them with a bronze statue as a gift. Now war looms unless someone can smooth over the insult or remove the offending gift without notice.

The Vanishing Trail

An elven scout has asked the party’s aid in finding her sibling who disappeared into the mountains. The only clue is a series of faint footprints that fade too quickly to follow.

The Ritual Interrupted

Elves performing a century-long ritual in a ruined temple have been attacked by marauders. If the ritual is broken, the magic within may twist the land itself, and the elves beg for protection.

The Slave Rebellion

In a city where elves keep slaves, the slaves are planning a revolt. They seek outside help to smuggle weapons in or to sway sympathetic elves to their cause.

The Abandoned Hall

An ancient elven hall, empty for centuries, has been found in the deep forest. It is said treasures lie untouched within, but the elves insist it must never be entered.

The Obsessed Artisan

An elf who has worked for centuries on a single project now seeks mortal helpers to gather rare components. But the task may take the adventurers into dangerous places the elf does not care about.

The War of Patience

Two rival elven houses are engaged in a feud that has lasted four hundred years. They now court mortal adventurers as pawns, offering riches to end the conflict in their favor.

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