Wood Elf
For more information on all races, see: Ancestries & Races
Among the ancient elven peoples, none are so entwined with the flesh of the world as the wood elves, a reclusive subrace whose blood sings with the rhythm of Iolcus, whose hearts beat with the truths of nature, and whose lives flow like falling leaves into the endless dance of Folia. They are kin to the trees and watchers of the oldest groves, calm and unfaltering as the seasons. Where other elves chase glory or contemplate mysteries, the wood elves endure—rooted, enduring, and unbending as ironwood.
Physical Description
Copper-skinned and earth-souled, the wood elves are as much a part of the forest as the stones and roots beneath their feet. Their bodies seem hewn from the world itself—skin like burnished bark, sun-browned and wind-creased; hair dark as loam, often streaked with vibrant threads of green, like lichen threading through old stone; and eyes that shimmer with hues of moss, leaf, and aged wood, ancient and watchful.
Culture
Wood elf customs are intuitive rather than codified, passed down through generations by memory and ritual, and their spirituality centers not on distant gods but on the planet itself—the ever-patient world that has absorbed the light of stars, moons, and sun alike. Insular and self-reliant, wood elves place great value on instinct, balance, and belonging, shaping a society that thrives not through conquest or wealth, but through harmony, tradition, and the enduring wisdom of the wild.
Faith & Religion
To the wood elves, faith is lived, breathed, and rooted in the soil of Iolcus itself. Their religion is not one of gods, distant spirits, or divine messengers, nor do they look to the stars, Sun, or Moons as their elven kin do. When the great schism divided the elves, the wood elves alone looked down. They saw that Iolcus, their home, has for eons absorbed the light and power of all the celestial thrones. It is not a mere world to live upon, but a vast and ancient being—older than nations, deeper than gods—a planet steeped in the essence of all the heavens. The Green Faith, as they call it, is the veneration of Iolcus itself: not nature in some abstract or planar sense, but the land, waters, and life of this singular world. Wood elf religion is not dogma but rhythm, not spoken but embodied. Their rites follow the turning of seasons and the quiet milestones of life: birth, death, growth, and decay. Even their children know not to waste a kill or disturb an animal's den—not by rule, but by instinct. To stray from these ways is not heresy, but imbalance. Outsiders to Iolcus—especially the fey—are viewed with distrust or outright disdain, for the wood elves see no holiness in other realms. Iolcus is their only sacred ground, the only power worth honoring, and the only one that has ever truly endured.Cannibalism
Unique among elves—and indeed, all mortals—the wood elves possess a rare gift: the ability to receive memories through flesh. With a bite of the freshly fallen, they gain flashes of vivid memory. In the taste of a lover’s blood or sweat, they know the echo of an emotion, the shadow of a soul. Known in their tongue as "the taking-in of truth", this phenomenon is more than a mere curiosity; it is a cornerstone of their identity and spiritual philosophy. To taste the flesh of a freshly fallen creature is to open oneself to a flood of memory—moments glimpsed in vivid detail, emotions raw and undimmed by death, truths that words could never express. These are not visions summoned by magic or prayer; they are lived experiences, imprinted into the soul of the devoured and now stitched into the being of the devourer. The gift functions on a spectrum. The flesh of the recently dead—uncorrupted by decay—yields rich, coherent memories: childhood joy, battle cries, whispered confessions, or the moment of death itself. Even a single bite can pass on a lifetime of meaning, however this communion is not limited to the dead. The living, too, share echoes through sweat, blood, tears, and touch. A kiss may taste like regret. A cut may carry a flicker of courage or grief. Such encounters are ephemeral and impressionistic—the ghost of a feeling, the scent of a soul, more emotion than image.This gift—seen by outsiders as grotesque—is, to the wood elves, a sacred act of empathy and continuity. To consume another is not to defile them, but to carry them, to take responsibility for their memory. The practice has birthed a deeply spiritual form of ritual cannibalism. When a wood elf dies, their kin gather in silence, each participant ingesting a small portion of the body—often the heart, tongue, or blood—believed to hold the strongest memories. These moments are relived communally, sometimes even spoken aloud so that others might witness them secondhand. Once consumed, the remains are planted beneath a sapling, returning both body and soul to the forest in a dual transformation: into memory, and into tree. These soulgroves, where the roots of trees wind through the bones of ancestors, are sacred beyond reckoning. To trespass unknowingly in a soulgrove is forgivable—to disturb the soil is heresy. The ritual is exclusive—never extended to non-elves, even in death. It is a deeply personal rite, and one not imposed on others. The wood elves harbor no interest in evangelizing their ways, and indeed, they know well how their practices are perceived. Tales among other races paint them as barbaric cannibals, eerie and cold, with whisperings of infants taken in the night, of madness following a wood elf’s touch. The truth, of course, is more complex. To the wood elves, the horror in these tales lies not in the act of consumption, but in how others choose to forget the dead—to bury them, burn them, and move on as if memories are disposable.
Society
Rooted in quiet tradition, wood elf society is governed by consensus, guided by elders, and structured around nature. Wood elves value balance over ambition, harmony over conquest. Outsiders are met with wary distance, for the wood elves see their culture not as something to spread, but as something to protect—an ancient, grounded way of life in a world too often pulled skyward.
Naming Traditions
Wood elf names tend to be lyrical, earthy, and poetic, often composed of Elvish roots that translate to phrases like “Sings Beneath the Branches", “Wind-Stilled”, or “Watcher of Falling Leaves". Many wood elves have both a private name—used only among family and close friends—and a public name, which they offer freely. The private name is considered sacred, a tether to their soul and spirit, and sharing it with someone is a profound act of trust.Male Names: Aetheran, Cortalan, Florandor, Silvenar, Terraval, Virellan
Female Names: Althiriel, Ignarae, Lucira, Nemoriel, Sylvaena, Tenebria
Government & Law
Wood elf government is a subtle, adaptive system shaped more by tradition and consensus than codified laws or formal hierarchies. Each tribe or enclave of wood elves is largely autonomous, functioning as a self-sufficient community governed by a gerontocratic circle of elders, druids, or other individuals considered wise in the ways of nature, memory, and the land. These leaders do not command by force or title, but by the weight of lived experience and earned respect. Age, insight, and a demonstrated connection to Iolcus are the primary measures of authority, and anyone—regardless of birth or profession—can become a voice in these circles if they prove themselves to the community. Councils typically form only when necessary, such as during times of crisis, territorial migration, or significant changes in the local environment. The goal is always consensus rather than majority rule. Debate is encouraged, but it is quiet and measured, focusing not on persuasion or rhetoric, but on listening and reflection. In moments of impasse, some tribes turn to signs from the land itself—animal behavior, the bloom or withering of sacred plants—as arbiters of will. It is believed that Iolcus, as a living and conscious force, will guide its stewards if they listen well enough.Wood elf law is unwritten, passed down orally and embedded in cultural memory. It is not structured around crime and punishment, but around the concept of imbalance. A transgression is seen not as a violation of personal rights or divine law, but as a disruption to the harmony between individuals, community, and the living world. Wasting a kill, disturbing sacred sites, hoarding resources, or harming another out of malice are all viewed as symptoms of spiritual and communal sickness. In these cases, restorative practices are enacted. The offender is brought before the elders or a trusted mediator, not to be condemned, but to be heard and understood. The goal is to heal what is broken—be it through service to the harmed party, ritual acts of cleansing or restoration, or periods of reflection and isolation within the forest. Execution, exile, and imprisonment are almost never used, reserved only for those who repeatedly and willfully defy the balance. Even then, such punishments are mourned, not celebrated. The ideal outcome of any judgment is reconciliation: not only of the individual with the tribe, but of the tribe with the land they are sworn to live in harmony with. The result is a society that feels at once free and bound—free of the laws and hierarchies that characterize more “civilized” nations, yet bound tightly to tradition, memory, and a deep, almost spiritual understanding of mutual responsibility.
Commerce & Trade
Unlike more urbanized cultures, wood elves do not engage in large-scale markets or coin-driven economies. Instead, trade is built upon mutual need, trust, and long-standing relationships. Barter is common, and goods exchanged are often handcrafted, harvested, or cultivated with care—finely worked bows, herbal remedies, woven garments, wild-honey mead, and beautifully carved wooden instruments are all common wares. Each item carries spiritual weight, and value is measured not by rarity or wealth, but by craftsmanship, usefulness, and harmony with the land.Within their treehouse cities, trade occurs casually and communally. A neighbor might offer a pouch of dried berries in exchange for help repairing a canopy bridge, or a visiting druid may gift a rare moss in return for news of distant groves. Formal marketplaces are rare, but seasonal gatherings sometimes bring together artisans and traders for ceremonial exchanges. Wood elves rarely trade with outsiders unless necessity demands it, and when they do, it is often with suspicion and boundaries. The goods they are willing to offer are limited, carefully chosen so as not to deplete the forest’s gifts. Foreign merchants sometimes speak of the quiet, watchful elves who trade beneath the trees—impossible to haggle with and quick to vanish when the forest no longer trusts your presence.
Settlements & Architecture
Wood elf settlements are breathtaking marvels of subtlety—verdant cities suspended high in the forest canopy, woven seamlessly into the living architecture of the trees themselves. Massive ancient trees serve as the foundations of homes and communal halls, their broad boughs and sturdy trunks shaped by generations of magic and patient cultivation. Rather than felling trees or reshaping the land, wood elves coax the forest to grow in the patterns they need, using druidic magic, grafting techniques, and arboreal engineering passed down through the ages. Structures blend living wood, woven vines, and pale stone in organic forms, often spiraling upward or outward in graceful, lattice-like curves. Homes are typically domed or conical, grown into the sides of trees like natural outcroppings, their interiors bathed in soft green light filtered through leaves. Platforms and bridges of tightly braided roots or flexible planks span from tree to tree, creating entire networks of walkways, markets, and gathering spaces that sway gently with the forest’s breath. These walkways are designed to be quiet and light-footed, allowing wood elves to move with near silence across great distances without ever touching the ground.Each city has its own aesthetic, shaped by the species of trees that dominate its region and the personalities of its inhabitants. Some are quiet and monastic, hidden behind veils of moss and mist. Others are luminous with soft bioluminescence, lit by lanterns that glow like stars. The settlements are intentionally difficult to spot from below—camouflaged in foliage, protected by illusion magic, and surrounded by living barriers or guardian creatures. Most outsiders never see a wood elf city unless invited, and even then, they rarely grasp its full scope. From the ground, it may seem the forest is untouched. Only by looking up, and truly seeing, can one glimpse the wonder above.
Public spaces are centered around natural clearings in the canopy—broad, flat sections where great council trees spread their branches wide, cradling amphitheaters, communal hearths, and places of song and ritual. Water is drawn up through vine-wrapped aqueducts from sacred springs below, and food is harvested from hanging gardens, rooftop groves, and forest foraging—never in excess, always with care. Even waste is handled respectfully, returned to the earth in compost or offered as tribute to the creatures of the wood. Every structure, every pathway, every item crafted by the wood elves reflects a quiet reverence for Iolcus as their living god, with the understanding that their homes are not theirs to own, but theirs to share—with the trees, with the wind, and with the memory of those who came before.
Magic Traditions
Wood elf magic is deeply rooted in the primal rhythms of the natural world, not in arcane study or divine petition. They view arcane magic much like cities or castles—as a means of dominating nature rather than living in harmony with it. Instead, wood elves practice primal magic, a fluid, intuitive art drawn from their deep bond with Iolcus. Their spells are not cast but coaxed, shaped through instinct, reverence, and alignment with the Leylines. Clerics and temples are absent from their culture; they see no need for gods when the world itself offers wisdom and power. Rarely, some among them walk the path of occult magic—witches and dreamspeakers who read fate and memory in roots and bones—but even these are quiet outliers. For the wood elves, magic is not a profession but a way of being: to live attuned to the land is, in itself, an act of power.Relations
Unlike their kin, who often participate in wider cosmopolitan societies, wood elves have grown insular over the centuries, especially following the schism that divided the elves’ spiritual paths. Their devotion to Iolcus has forged a sense of cultural and spiritual superiority, believing that only they have chosen correctly by revering the ancient power of the world beneath their feet. This worldview makes them wary of outsiders. Most wood elf communities are hidden in the deep wilds of Iolcus and intentionally difficult to find. Outsiders—whether elf or otherwise—are typically met with cold formality at best and open hostility at worst. Fey creatures, in particular, are loathed, seen not as allies but as dangerous interlopers from false and alien planes. The wood elves do not worship nature in a planar or universal sense, and thus view nature-oriented outsiders with intense distrust.
That said, individual relationships can still form, and rare alliances are sometimes forged when there is mutual benefit or shared cause—particularly when the natural world is threatened. In such cases, a wood elf might work alongside an outsider, though never fully trusting them. Visitors to wood elf lands are often subjected to intense scrutiny, rituals of passage, or even spiritual trials to test their intentions. Most are denied entry entirely. To wood elves, other cultures are often seen as disconnected from the true flow of life—rootless, loud, and heedless of consequence. Though this makes diplomacy challenging, it also means that when a wood elf extends a branch of trust, it is no small gesture—it is a recognition that, at least for a moment, someone not of the forest may have heard its voice.
Astral Elves
Astral elves and wood elves often regard each other with mutual incomprehension. To wood elves—who value instinct, tradition, and a deep, intuitive bond with the natural world—the astral elves can seem cold, aloof, and overly cerebral. The wood elf emphasis on simplicity, directness, and emotional authenticity stands in stark contrast to the astral elf tendency toward abstraction, detachment, and intellectual obsession. Many wood elves quietly view astral elves as having strayed too far from the roots of elvenkind, forsaking the harmony of the land for a life adrift among the stars and theories. Astral elves, for their part, often see wood elves as provincial, even charmingly primitive. They may appreciate wood elves’ martial skill and spiritual depth, but struggle to grasp their disinterest in study or inquiry. To an astral elf, a life spent in the woods communing with trees may seem not only unambitious, but tragically limited in scope. Despite this cultural dissonance, there is rarely outright hostility. Both groups recognize the other as elven, and neither typically seeks to impose its values on the other.Moon Elves
Moon elves and wood elves share a more sympathetic bond than either has with the sun elves, but their relationship is still marked by quiet distance and underlying divergence. Both peoples embrace a certain freedom from hierarchy and dogma, and both live in harmony with their surroundings—moon elves with the night, wood elves with the living earth. They often find kinship in their shared appreciation for beauty, fluidity, and intuition over rigidity. Cultural exchanges between the two are not uncommon, particularly in music, art, and ritual. However, the divide lies in where they place their reverence. Moon elves look upward—to the Moons and to Nephinae—believing that truth is written in the heavens. Wood elves, by contrast, look downward and inward, to Iolcus itself, believing the planet has soaked in the essence of all celestial light and now holds the truest power. To wood elves, the moon elves’ worship feels misplaced, a distraction from the world that cradles them. Meanwhile, moon elves may find wood elf beliefs dour, mistaking their quiet reverence for gloom or superstition. For all their mysticism, they often find the wood elves' flesh-borne communion too visceral, too intimate—knowledge without boundaries, memory without consent. Despite these differences, there is little animosity between the two cultures.Sun Elves
Though they share ancient roots, the paths between sun elves and wood elves have diverged so sharply that they often seem like entirely different peoples. Sun elves, with their gleaming cities, reverence for the Sun, and structured societies rooted in hierarchy and achievement, tend to see wood elves as insular and primitive—too enmeshed in dirt and death to be truly "elven". They view the wood elves’ rejection of divine figures and arcane progress as stubborn and short-sighted, a willful retreat from greatness. Wood elves, in turn, see sun elves as arrogant, disconnected from the planet that sustains them, and far too trusting in distant celestial powers. To a wood elf, the sun elves’ gleaming spires and rigid traditions feel cold and artificial—symbols of a people who forgot the ground beneath them. Yet despite these tensions, outright hostility is rare. There is a reluctant acknowledgment that each side preserves something vital from the elven legacy: sun elves uphold discipline and brilliance, while wood elves safeguard wisdom and grounding.Adventurers
Though wood elves are deeply rooted in tradition and harmony with nature, some do take up the mantle of adventurer—though rarely for selfish reasons. To leave the shelter of their treehouse cities is no small thing; it often means stepping away from everything they are. Yet when the balance of the world falters, some feel compelled to act. A wood elf might depart to avenge a defiled grove, protect sacred sites beyond the forest’s reach, or fulfill a vision granted by the land itself. Others are driven by prophecy, exile, or a rare inner restlessness—a need to see what lies beyond the leaves, and to return with wisdom only the wide world can offer. Even those born with an insatiable curiosity or thirst for understanding are not seen as traitors, but as part of the forest’s greater design. Whether by oath, calling, or strange chance, wood elf adventurers carry their homeland in their bones—and even far from their trees, they listen for the wind’s song and the quiet pull of home.
Racial Traits
General Information
Maturity
Childhood: 0 - 25 years
Young Adulthood: 25 - 100 years
Mature Adulthood: 100 - 600 years
Elderhood: 600 - 800 years
Average Lifespan
750 years
Average Height
5 ft. 3 in. – 6 ft. 2 in.
Average Weight
100 – 150 lbs.
Dungeons & Dragons 5e
Wood Elf - D&D 5e Stat Block
Pathfinder 1e
Wood Elf - Pathfinder 1e Stat Block
Pathfinder 2e
Elf - Pathfinder 2e Stat Block
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