Wood Elves

The elves of Anorderyn dwell beneath the green canopies of the vast western forests, a people whose identity has been shaped by their enduring covenant with the natural world. To outsiders, they are often portrayed as serene guardians of the woodland, yet beneath that harmony lies a keen sense of mastery and a belief that the forest itself has entrusted them with stewardship. They take only what is permitted: wood for boats, herbs for medicine, game for sustenance but always in moderation. In their own eyes, this balance is what distinguishes them from the destructive hungers of other races: they are not mere tenants of the wild, but its chosen keepers.

Anorderyn is ruled by a King and Queen whose line stretches deep into antiquity. Their authority is absolute in matters of law and diplomacy, but the rhythms of daily life are shaped locally by village elders, men and women of age and experience who speak for their kin. Druids walk a liminal path between these powers, wielding immense influence in both politics and faith, yet they are not rulers in themselves. Instead, they stand as interpreters of the forest’s will, their voices sought in times of crisis or uncertainty. Few great decisions are ever taken without a druid’s counsel, and it is said that even the monarchs defer when the trees whisper too strongly in one direction.

Life in Anorderyn carries a distinct aesthetic at once disciplined and untamed. Gardening is a form of art, though to the untrained eye an Anorderyn grove may appear wild and unkempt. Paths meander with the natural lay of roots and streams, flowering shrubs coil around carved totems, and fruit-bearing trees are pruned not into neat orchards but into shapes that evoke flowing dancers or bowed musicians.

Music itself is treasured: soothing melodies accompany meditations and rituals, while quick, percussive dances are performed during festivals, their rhythms echoing the pulse of hoofbeats or rainfall. Their artisans are renowned for woodwork, carving intricate designs into furniture, weapons, and even the beams of their homes not through careless felling, but with timber gifted under the forest’s blessing. It is said that some pieces of Anorderyn craftsmanship carry a subtle vitality, as though the wood remembers the song of the grove it once belonged to.

Though peace and artistry are at the heart of their culture, the elves of Anorderyn are not without martial tradition. The guardians of the realm are drawn from among its most disciplined hunters and scouts, forming companies of rangers who are as silent as falling leaves and as precise as a hawk’s strike. Their warriors are trained in close combat, their shields and spears designed to fight in the dense confines of the forest where cavalry cannot easily follow.

A small number of spellcasters, trained in arcane arts but tempered by druidic philosophy, serve as battlefield anchors, their magic augmenting both blade and bow. Together, these forces form a defense that has made Anorderyn notoriously difficult to invade, for its defenders strike with the forest at their back, and every glade can become a fortress.

Their relationship with outsiders is complex. At the fringes of the forest, Anorderyn elves are welcoming, greeting travelers with courtesy and offering trade in herbs, crafted goods, and fine timber. But the heartlands are closed, the capital never shown to those who have not earned deep trust.

The elves do not begrudge individuals of other races, but they harbor unease at the wider habits of humanity, whose swift expansion and hunger for farmland often come at nature’s expense. Mountain dwarves are regarded more warmly, for they burrow into the earth without stripping the forests above, and over generations bonds of friendship have been struck in trade and shared battles. Their greatest contempt is reserved for their own kin: the high elves, whom they deem arrogant and estranged from their roots, careless in their pursuit of grandeur at the expense of the world’s balance.

Yet even with such caution, Anorderyn is not wholly closed. On rare occasions, non-elves are permitted to settle within established villages, exiles, wanderers, or families bound by oath and trust. Such individuals often find themselves transformed by the forest’s rhythms, their lives lengthened and softened by the green embrace of the land. Still, the elves are clear: the forest is not to be conquered or tamed. It accepts guests only on its terms.

In their own telling, the people of Anorderyn are not merely a nation, but a covenant: a pact made between elf and tree, between monarch and druid, between past and future. Their songs carry the weight of ages, their gardens bloom with stories, and their warriors guard not just territory but the soul of the forest itself. To walk among them is to be reminded that nature is not passive or inert: it breathes, it watches, and in Anorderyn, it speaks.