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# Solanthar

Secluded nation of aloof perfectionists.

Story
Mist rose thick from the Elunthar Falls, veiling the narrow stairway that clawed its way up the cliff. From below came the clatter of steel and the bark of orders. A band of mercenaries, hired by some jungle prince, had found the ancient steps and now dragged their way upward, shields raised against the spray.
High above, upon a marble parapet, stood three figures of the Sunward Watch. They did not shout. They did not posture. They merely watched, silent as statues, until the first of the intruders drew close enough that the sun struck the iron of his helm.
Then one elf raised his bow. The string thrummed like a plucked harp, the arrow a shaft of golden light. It struck the man's sword arm, and in an instant his arm was ablaze. He screamed and tumbled backward, taking two others with him into the mist.
The remaining mercenaries froze, trembling as the spray thickened around them. More arrows waited, gleaming in the hands of the Watchers above. No words were spoken, no warning given. Slowly, step by step, the survivors retreated, disappearing back into the jungle below.
The Watchers lowered their bows, turned, and walked away. To them, it was not a battle. It was simply the natural order - the sun had risen, the stars had shone, and the world beyond remained where it belonged.

Guarding against the outside world

Story
The bells of warning rang across Solantharion, clear and bright. A beast had climbed the plateau, a great cat from the jungle below, gaunt with hunger, its eyes burning in the dark. Villagers scattered, doors slammed shut, and the Solar Guard moved swiftly to intercept.
But in a marble colonnade at the city's edge, Master Celerion knelt in the dust, drawing circles with a rod of polished bronze. For ninety years he had studied the paths of the stars, seeking to chart a perfect geometry that mirrored the heavens. Tonight, at last, he saw the pattern unfolding before him.
The beast padded into the colonnade, its growl echoing off the pillars. Guards shouted from afar, but Celerion only frowned and shook his head. "Do not disturb me," he said, voice sharp as chalk on stone. "I am close, so close."
The beast leapt. His rod snapped from his hand, his perfect circles smeared red. The guards arrived moments later to find only ruin on the floor, the star-map broken forever.
And so they whispered afterward that Master Celerion had not feared the beast, nor even seen it. His eyes were fixed upward to the heavens, and the world below had simply ceased to matter.

Master Celerion's last moments

# Description

The Solanthar dwell upon the Plateau of Larethion, a sheer-sided bastion of stone rising out of the endless Yelthara Jungle. From below, the plateau looks unreachable, its cliffs wrapped in mist and broken only by hidden stairways of ancient stone known only to the high elves themselves. Two rivers, the Serivalas and the Caruvalas, cut through the plateau before plunging in titanic waterfalls into the jungle below, shrouding the land in perpetual rainbow spray. To outsiders, this place is a myth, a city of light suspended above the world.

In a way, it's a mirror of Coralwyn. In Coralwyn, life is unstructured, and little is ever done, while Solanthar is highly structured, much is done, but things are never finished anyway.

## Capital and Settlements

Their shining capital, Solantharion, is a marvel of white marble, veined with golden streaks that catch the sun and make the city gleam like a beacon visible even from the jungle floor on clear days. Tall spires and bridges curve like rays of light, and gardens flow across terraces carved into the rock. Each noble household competes to create the most exquisite corner of the city, whether a gallery, a tower, or a pool reflecting the heavens.

Around the plateau rim are smaller farming hamlets like Thalveth, known for its orchards of sun-apples, and fishing villages along the rivers such as Veynar, whose people cast nets into the deep lakes of the plateau. These villages are insular even toward their capital, preferring to perfect their craft in quiet isolation.

A palace in Solantharion

## Culture and Obsession

The Solanthar see themselves as the apex of creation. They refer to outsiders as Lunari, "children of the moon," unworthy and tainted by the darkness beyond. Each Solanthar elf strives for perfection in a chosen pursuit, whether martial, artistic, or natural. Master instrument makers may spend a century tuning a single instrument to perfection, and painters are known to layer thousands of brushstrokes into canvases that shimmer like sunlight itself.

Duels of artistry, not battle, are common in Solantharion, two poets may meet in a public square to see whose verse aligns closest with the celestial harmonies. Violence, though rare, is seen as brutish and beneath them, unless expressed as perfected martial form, such as the Dance of Vehlorien, a ritualized sword-dance said to take centuries to master.

## Religion

Their faith is centered on Solaeris, the Sun Eternal, regarded as the giver of life, clarity, and excellence. Around Solaeris move the constellations, each a patron of some pursuit: Ilythar the Lyrist, who grants inspiration to singers, Veylos the Sculptor, whose stars resemble a chisel and mallet, and Orrien the Gardener, guiding the hand of those who shape living things, and many others.

The moon, however, is called Nythora, the Veiled One. She is feared and loathed, a goddess of corruption and the outer dark. Her waxing is seen as a warning, and her full face is said to peer hungrily upon Solantharion. During eclipses, the elves hide indoors and sing hymns to drive her away.

## Governance

The emperor is called the Solar Throne, yet his role is largely ceremonial. The current emperor, Thalanir IX, has long abandoned affairs of state for his aviary of paradise birds, known as the Sunsong Flock. The true rhythm of society is set not by rulers but by obsession. Decisions are rarely coordinated; the plateau hums with a thousand individual visions, occasionally intersecting but rarely aligned.

Disputes are resolved by public assemblies in the Forum of Auren, where citizens gather and vote. Exile is the punishment most feared, for it is not just banishment but symbolic unmooring from the sun. Those found guilty are set upon a raft upon the Caruvalar or Serivalas, and their screams echo down the falls until lost to the jungle. To the Solanthar, this is both merciful and just: the problem is removed, and the harmony of their world restored.

## Geography

Though surrounded by steaming jungle, the Plateau of Larethion has a temperate climate, with cool breezes that sweep across its lakes and meadows. The soil is fertile, and sunlight falls in abundance, making it an ideal cradle for their perfectionist gardens and orchards. At night, the sky is vast and clear, the stars like lanterns, and every elf knows the names of constellations as if they were ancestors.

The Plateau of Larethion, seen from the jungle

## Military and Defenses of the Solanthar

The Solanthar do not march in armies nor garrison vast legions. They consider war crude and beneath their station. Yet their plateau is not undefended. The high elves believe perfection applies as much to blade and bow as it does to song and sculpture. They do not seek war, but they ensure that none may bring it to them.

### The Hidden Paths

There are only three true routes to the Plateau of Larethion: the Steps of Thalarion, a stairway carved by unknown hands into the cliff face; the Caverns of Velthura, a twisting tunnel rising from the jungle floor; and the Bridge of Aurenel, a natural stone span arching across a deep gorge. Each is heavily warded. Archers of the Sunward Watch stand guard, their golden bows strung with strings said to sing like harps when loosed. Their arrows are fletched with the feathers of paradise birds, and the shafts are oiled with an alchemical sap compound that burns with dazzling light when it pierces flesh.

The caverns are sealed with guarded gates of heavy granite. The bridge is watched day and night, and more than one would-be invader has plunged to their death under a rain of radiant shafts.

### The Solar Guard

The Solanthar maintain no standing army, only the Solar Guard, an elite order numbering scarcely more than a thousand. They are not soldiers in the common sense, but martial artists who have spent centuries perfecting forms that blend swordplay, acrobatics, and dance. Their style, called the Vehlorien Kata, is said to mirror the paths of the stars themselves. To see them move is to watch a living constellation in motion. Each warrior trains with both sword and glaive, their weapons polished until they shine like mirrors of the sun.

The Guard wear light armor of shimmering scale, crafted from rare riverfish found only in the plateau's lakes. This armor catches light in blinding patterns, dazzling foes while leaving the wearer unencumbered.

They are commanded by the Aurenspear, currently Lady Selirath Vehlorien, a woman said to have mastered every martial form known to the Solanthar. She is famed for defeating a rampaging jungle tiger single-handedly, striking it down with a single thrust of her glaive.

### Defensive Philosophy

The Solanthar do not campaign. They do not invade. Their doctrine is one of absolute defense. Should an army of the outside world ever find its way to their plateau, the Solanthar would unleash not only the Solar Guard but also the might of their artificers. Illusionists weave false terrain to send enemies stumbling into ravines. Song-mages, called Cantors of Ilythar, strike chords that can shatter stone or rupture the minds of the unprepared.

Yet such an invasion has not happened. The very remoteness of the Plateau of Larethion has shielded it from conquest for millennia, and the Solanthar believe that should outsiders ever come in force, it will be proof that the moon-goddess Nythora has risen at last - and they will fight with the fury of the sun itself.

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