My Elves are… Odd

In an earlier post, I discussed the fact that my dwarves are based roughly on Greek and Roman culture.  Among the comments, I mentioned that my elves were a little more nonstandard.  Which leads, naturally, to this post.

If nothing else, this is spurring me to update my setting to fourth edition.

I like to draw from real-world societies when defining my nonhuman cultures; it tends to make it easier for the players to grasp them.  The elves of Galadria are one of the stranger groups, though.  They’re based partly on Native American plains cultures, with flavor drawn from medieval northern Europe and Russia as well.

Galadrian elves are a wild race.  Most of their numbers live among the far northern reaches, beyond Ravenspire, in lands that most among the “civilized” nations consider all but uninhabitable.  Nobody seems to have informed the elves of this; they manage to thrive in the arctic wastes that have swallowed numerous human settlements.  Further to the south, elves are a rare sight, occasionally encountered in outlying areas — the mountain ranges and the deep forests that have not yet been tamed by the Twelve Kingdoms.  One tribe of elves has even been known to roam the desert of Jalar.  An elf in a city is a rare sight indeed, and elves are generally mistrusted, as are their Fae brethren.  The Fae themselves tend to condescend to elves.  Elves, for their part, return this mistrust.

(I’d split the wild and high elves for my Galadria campaign, calling the latter Fae; in 4e, they’ll simply be eladrin, as the flavor is almost identical.  Galadrian elves were initially planned to take the place of drow in the campaign, while drow would be absent, but the elves evolved a bit from that initial stance and I kept the drow.)

Elven society is tribal in nature, and most tribes are nomadic.  An average nomadic band of elves numbers in the dozens, but bands numbering in the hundreds have been known.  On occasion, a strong and charismatic leader will unite several bands, an entire tribe, or even multiple tribes; most often, the result is a raid against the humans and dwarves of the south.  There have been twelve separate elf wars against Ravenspire, and separate battles as far south as the shining city of Tir Eselyn, capital of the Twelve Kingdoms, itself.  Thus far, the nations have always prevailed, but more than one northern city has been razed in the wake of such a war.

More often, though, elves keep an uneasy peace with the men and dwarves of the south.  Trade is somewhat regular — the elves trade certain crafts or the pelts of northern beasts for cloth goods and metal tools.  Each side shamelessly tries to cheat the other.

Elves mostly follow totemistic beliefs.  The five most important totem spirits are Bear, Crow, Elk, Fox, and Wolf.  Many bands will devote themselves primarily to a single totem (typically that of the chief or shaman), though individual members may have a different totem.  Shamans wield great political power among the elves, and are generally deferred to in times of peace; chieftains lead in hunting and in war, and have the power to settle disputes over physical property (with which the totem spirits are not concerned).

A band’s totem tends to reflect its general character.  Bands that favor Bear usually promote individual strength as a virtue and prize warriors, hunters, and laborers.  Crow promotes pragmatism and learning and favors scholars and craftsmen.  Elk promotes wisdom and favors shamans, mystics, and the aged.  Fox promotes cunning and favors scouts, thieves, merchants, and diplomats.  Wolf promotes social bonds and teamwork, and prizes warriors, chieftains, and keepers of the law.  Many elves wear jewelry or tattoos representing their totemic spirit; those associated with Fox have been known to wear representations of another spirit.

Galadrian elves use a base-7 number system.  Their calendar is 7 months, with 7 weeks per month and 7 days per week.  Each day is 28 hours long — four seven-hour periods.  (This works out to about a 371.6-day year, using standard 24-hour days.)  Months, weeks, days, and hours are all named for the five major totems, plus the sky and the earth; hours are given the appelation “first” through “fourth” when it’s necessary to distinguish them.  The keeping of hours is a fairly recent innovation; historically, the elves had little need to divide time in that way, and some tribes still use nothing more elaborate than the position of the sun — dawn, morning, noon, afternoon, twilight, night.

Every seven years, elf tribes will come together for a month-long meet.  This month is not a part of the calendar; it falls “between” the seventh month of the seventh year and the first month of the first year of the next cycle.  The meet is a time of high celebration, featuring feasting, dancing, song and story, contests of skill and strength, but it is also a time for ceremony.  New shamans are chosen from the ranks of the acolytes.  New chieftains are confirmed in their positions (or sometimes replaced by others).  Births are celebrated.  The departed are remembered, and their lives celebrated as well — the elves do not long mourn.  Great deeds are acknowledged.  New tales are told.  News of the greater world is exchanged.

By tradition, any who attends a meet is considered a guest and may participate on equal footing with any elf in the games and challenges.  Old hatreds are set aside.  Bitter rivals may share a drink.  An outsider may attend without fear, and, if he makes a good showing, might earn the tribe’s respect.  There have even been cases of outsiders being raised to the position of shaman or chieftain.  Any who breaks the peace of the meet will surely regret it, though; the wrath of a unified elf tribe is not to be taken lightly.

After the meet, individual bands of elves scatter once again, typically to remain apart until seven more years have passed.  The peace of the meet lasts for seven days after the event; it behooves an unwelcome outsider to be far from the elves’ territory by the end of that time.

Mechanically, Galadrian elves aren’t necessarily any different from the core elf.  Bonuses to dexterity and wisdom suit my arctic elves well, and wild step and increased speed are natural.  They were lower-tech, more likely to use spears, javelins, and slings than bows, but with the recent (historically speaking) increase in their technology level, bows seem quite viable, so there’s no need to fiddle with the bonus proficiencies.  Fey origin was already built into my elves, so that’s already set.

One change I might make is shifting their Perception-related bonuses to Endurance, instead.  I’m not set on that, though.  In third edition, my elves lacked the ability to spot secret doors by passing near them, but they did still benefit from racial bonuses to the skills that are now rolled into Perception.  I think it likely that I’ll just use the mechanics as presented in the book.

Related posts:

1. My Dwarves are Roman
2. Renaissance Mentality
3. Renaissance Mandate
4. Defining the Raven Queen
5. Hanging in the Balance