In most campaigns, elves leave the trappings of aristocracy to humans, their kingdoms having long since fallen, dwindled, or relocated far away. While a select few families (typically cosmopolitan high elves) may participate in politics, most simply quietly go about their business.
In a campaign where elves take a more active interest in ruling, many clans would inevitably rise to the top of the social order. Those of a domineering bent would have centuries to shape the political and social landscapes to their liking. PCs could take the role of would-be Robin Hoods and Swamp Foxes against hard-hearted elven lords and landholders.
Arvitesh is a southerly, practically subtropical domain whose treetop manor houses are legendary. Over the years, the elven culture there has evolved into an aristocracy of noble families whose balls, fashions, and occasional duels are a constant game of oneupmanship. Corsets, hoopskirts, scarves, fans, and sashes are common sights here, as are rapiers and chessboards.
This frivolity is supported by the backbreaking labor of human, dwarven, and halfling serfs. Both in the canopy lanes and on the ground below, indentured servants and bondmen toil in the orchards, fields, parlors, and workshops to please their demanding masters. (Gnomes, at least those with mechanical or bardic faculties, are spared due to the nobles’ demand for clockwork toys and musical divertissements; they are considered skilled artisans.)
The rarely acknowledged shame of Arvitesh is the aristocrats’ rapacity for human bedmates. Half-elves are born at well above average frequency in the servants’ quarters, and in more than a few plush beds as well. In the latter case, the offspring are almost always given away as foundlings. Arviteshans never refer to half-elves as such (or as half-human). Instead they use only “kith-le’vesh,” an elven dog breeder term that roughly translates as “the Bastards.”
Monday, July 14, 2008
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