Elves
Wanderers Between Worlds, Immortal Mysteries, and the Perpetual Nuisance of Pointed Ears.
"They are difficult to define, harder to categorise, and completely unwilling to stop existing. I admire their consistency. I did not say I enjoy it."
Elves Exist. This Is, Unfortunately, a Fact.
Not confined to a single world, plane, or convenient classification system, the elves of the Infinite Elsewhere are as varied as the stars themselves. They are the wandering echoes of forgotten realms, the haughty aristocrats of fading empires, the wild-eyed mystics of the deep forests, and the strangely persistent merchants who always have exactly what you need—especially when you wish they didn’t.
To say there is a singular elven race is both incorrect and likely to start an argument with at least three different varieties of elf, each of whom will insist that they are the purest form of elvendom. To most outside observers, however, elves can be broadly categorized into one of several vague and often interchangeable archetypes, all of which insist on being unique and none of which seem to recognise that they are, in fact, all the same in certain irritating ways.
Elves Across the Infinite Elsewhere
Elves, being immortal (or at least long-lived enough to consider everyone else temporary), have diversified across countless worlds. While it would be impossible to catalogue them all (a note I dispute, but I am out of notebooks at present), the following are some of the most commonly encountered varieties:
The Highborn
"We Are Clearly Superior"
Elegant, aloof, and deeply obsessed with the concept of cultural refinement, these elves reside in ancient cities suspended between time and delusion. Their societies are built upon millennia of tradition, artistry, and the firm belief that everyone else is doing it wrong. They command great magic, wield masterful blades, and have an impressive ability to ignore the imminent collapse of their own civilizations. Some have developed magically engineered beauty standards so unattainable that even other elves find them exhausting.
Not to be confused with nobility. True nobility does not require footnotes.
The Wild Ones
"Yes, I Do Talk to Trees"
Found in the vast, untamed places of reality, these elves are bound to the land, the wind, and the quiet whispers of the universe. Whether they are hunter-gatherers, druidic sages, or strange hermits who claim to speak with rivers, they are all defined by their deep connection to nature and their equally deep suspicion of cities, shoes, and anyone who insists that roads are a good idea. They are frequently accompanied by mystical animal companions, most of which are more intelligent than the average mortal.
Do not ask how they know what the moon is thinking. They will tell you. At length.
The Shadowed
"We Were Betrayed, and We Will Never Shut Up About It"
Whether they dwell in subterranean cities, walk the edges of the veil between life and death, or exist in a state of perpetual exile, these elves carry a grudge that spans generations. Often masters of subterfuge, assassination, or just being incredibly dramatic, they are as dangerous as they are theatrical. Every single one of them has a tragic backstory. Every single one of them will make sure you hear about it. Some have taken their brooding to such operatic levels that their mere presence makes tavern lighting dim for dramatic effect.
Somewhere, one of them is monologuing. You are merely not close enough to hear it.
The Wanderers
"We’ve Seen Some Things"
Sailors of the cosmic tides, travellers of the planar highways, and traders who always have a little more information than they should, these elves move between realms as easily as others walk between rooms. Whether they are skyfaring explorers, desert-dwelling nomads, or charismatic rogues with suspiciously few ties to any one location, they are defined by their refusal to remain in one place for too long. They are also notorious for ‘borrowing’ things from cultures they encounter, often claiming they invented them. Somehow, they always have a tragic first love story they refuse to elaborate on.
If one offers to sell you a map, buy it. Then check your pockets.
The Cursed
"No, This Is Not a Phase"
Some elves carry ancient burdens—some self-inflicted, others inherited from the poor choices of their ancestors. Vampirism, lycanthropy, magical afflictions that warp their very existence—these elves do not fit neatly into any other category, nor do they wish to. Brooding, melancholy, and far too invested in poetic philosophy, they can be found in forgotten ruins, moonlit towers, and anywhere one can dramatically turn away from a conversation with a meaningful sigh. Their fashion choices are impeccable. Their interpersonal skills are not.
Caution: Do not ask what’s wrong. They’ll tell you. All of it.
Addendum: This category is… personally familiar. Moving on. — S.N.
The Mischief-Makers
"Oh No, Not Another One"
These elves exist purely to cause problems, and they revel in it. Fox-eared tricksters, impossibly beautiful heart-breakers, arcane geniuses who ‘forgot’ to mention the side effects of their spells—these elves exist to bewilder, frustrate, and occasionally ruin your entire day. They are often mistaken for fae, though they will never confirm nor deny this. They are either mystical warriors burdened with prophecy or just some guy with a flute and a knack for getting out of trouble. No one can tell the difference.
If you can’t tell whether you’re being flirted with or cursed, the answer is “yes.”
The Moonlit
"The Sexy, Curvy Ones"
Mysterious, alluring, and unapologetically exotic, these elves have deep connections to magic, moonlight, and whatever arcane nonsense makes them glow at inconveniently dramatic moments. Unlike the brooding Shadowed, they are worldly, sensual, and surprisingly laid-back for a people steeped in mystery. They favour rich, dark skin tones, silver or violet eyes, and an effortless confidence that suggests they know exactly why you’re staring. Equal parts deadly sorcerers and devastating heartbreakers, they tend to make an impression—whether you’re ready for it or not. They also tend to be curvier than most elves, a fact that seems less biological and more the result of sheer narrative inevitability.
The Pattern has a type. The Pattern is not subtle about it.
Elves and the Inn
Some elves arrive at the Inn by accident. Others arrive precisely on time, even when the doors weren’t supposed to open. They treat the place as sanctuary, mystery, or infuriating anomaly. The Inn treats them as furniture it doesn’t remember buying—but is oddly fond of.
Elves are among the few species who treat the Library with reverence without being asked. They are also among the few who try to correct it.
I do not recommend this.
Threads and Resonance
Elven Threads hum at slower, deeper frequencies than most mortal lives—constant and stubborn, with a resonance that rarely changes once fixed. They do not unravel easily. But when they do, the results are rarely quiet, and never clean.
Some Threadwalkers have noted elven presence stabilising Dream Realms or attracting Doors that should not yet be open. This is not a design flaw. It is simply elvendom behaving as expected.
Common Elven Quirks
Field Notes for Threadwalkers and Aspiring Roleplayers
Typical elven behaviours include:
- Recalling history from personal experience, then claiming they don’t dwell on the past.
- Becoming offended with elegance.
- Pausing mid-sentence for 15 minutes of wistful silence.
- Making tea before combat.
- Holding grudges with ceremonial grace.
- Denying that they’re smug, while being very smug about it.
- Being surprisingly flustered when someone actually compliments them.
Note: These behaviours are not universal. But they are statistically significant. — S.N.
Rare Lineages & Variants
While most elves fall into familiar archetypes, some appear to be... remixes.
There are stories of elves born from broken Realms—shard-bound individuals whose resonance echoes across failed timelines. Some have been touched by the Tapestry Beyond, their dreams too loud to ignore. A rare few speak the languages of libraries and ink, and walk through shelves as others walk through rain.
They are not common. But neither are they impossible.
I have met three. None have agreed on what they were. Two asked not to be recorded. The third rewrote their entry before I finished writing it. — S.N.
Elves and Time: A Troubled Relationship
Elves do not experience time the way mortals do. For them, decades are like months, centuries a passing thought. They measure their lives in eras and legacies, which leads to a profound lack of urgency that is, frankly, infuriating to everyone else.
The effect of this longevity on their personalities is mixed:
- Some become wise and patient, viewing the struggles of mortals with amused detachment.
- Others become insufferably arrogant, assuming that age grants them automatic superiority.
- Some simply forget what they were supposed to be doing halfway through a sentence and wander off.
Elven memory is both a gift and a curse—they recall history with perfect clarity, which often results in grudges that will never, ever die. The elven concept of forgiveness is best translated as:
“Perhaps in another thousand years. If you’re lucky.”
Final Thoughts
Elves are not a singular people but a sprawling, fractious, often exasperating collective of cultures and traditions. Across the Infinite Elsewhere, they remain one of the most enduring, adaptable, and insufferably confident species to ever exist.
They are scholars, warriors, mystics, and tricksters. They are the architects of ancient empires and the last survivors of forgotten ages. They are, above all else, still here.
And no matter how many times history resets itself, no matter how many worlds rise and fall, elves will persist—long-lived, long-winded, and ever so slightly smug about it.
At A Glance
What They Are
Elves are a long-lived, magically resonant species with a remarkable talent for narrative persistence. They appear across innumerable Threadworlds, defy classification with great pride, and exhibit the sort of cultural longevity that becomes everyone else’s problem. They are difficult to catalogue, mostly because they object loudly to the attempt.
Where They Are Found
Everywhere. Ancient cities, untouched wilds, celestial thoroughfares, forgotten ruins, and, most inconveniently, in places they should not be but insist they have always belonged. They tend to appear wherever history is being written—or rewritten.
How They See Themselves
As civilisation’s apex: aesthetically, intellectually, and philosophically. Even those who live in moss and refuse footwear consider themselves refined in ways no outsider could possibly grasp. Each lineage insists on its uniqueness while exhibiting the same fundamental behaviours. They are, paradoxically, the most fractious and most recognisable people in existence—a contradiction they will debate for centuries, often with themselves.
How Others See Them
Elegant, unnervingly attractive, vaguely superior, and distressingly aware of all three. Elves have perfected the art of appearing wise while saying nothing of substance, and many cultures have sought their counsel only to regret it midway through a twelve-verse metaphor. They do not lie. They simply narrate.
Lifespan
Elves do not expire by natural means. They vanish, ascend, drift, or are absorbed into stories larger than themselves. Those who remain do so for reasons that are rarely comforting—unfinished work, unresolved spite, or arguments no one else remembers but they refuse to lose.
Attitude Toward Mortals
Bemused. Occasionally fond. Always comparative. Mortals are to elves what sparks are to a hearth—brief, bright, and usually unnecessary. They admire mortal passion the way one might admire dangerous weather: from a safe distance, with a teacup in hand. If an elf helps you, they will remember. And so will their descendants.
Unique Traits
Elves resonate with the Pattern in slow, deliberate harmonics. They possess inherent magical capacity, an archivist’s approach to memory, and a temporal awareness best described as politely incompatible with urgency. They do not forget. They rarely forgive. And they never, ever misplace a grudge.
Biggest Weaknesses
Ego. Drama. Unprocessed emotion rebranded as poetic expression. Elves are frequently sabotaged by their own sense of significance and a fondness for historical revisionism. They are known to weaponise sighs, write sonnets in place of apologies, and engage in feuds that span geological epochs. None of this is accidental.
The Last Word
Elves will still be here long after you’re gone. If that bothers you, take comfort: it bothers them, too. Most of them had hoped to be remembered better than this.
This might be the greatest first sentence of any article I've ever seen, and it only gets better from there!
Thanks :)