Hollow at the Core
Major Race(s): Elf
Minor Race(s): Gnome, Halfling
No official motto. Substitute: To conquer is too easy, to rule is to blaspheme
Ghora, Mare of Night
The Elven Hordes aren’t a nation in any sense.
Typically the southern plains host roaming tribes who trade or fight when they come upon each other. The smaller tribes of Halflings have learned to avoid the paths of their fellow nomads or have been enslaved.
The north has the continents largest desert, Endless Fields. The name is a sarcastic nod to the golden wheat of the south and the mirages common to travelers traveling the desert to avoid the more common Elven horsemen. Several tribes of Elves do wander the sands, atop camels instead, as well as rare pockets of the remaining uncivilized Gnomes. The desert has a green gash which cuts in East to West, where miraculously plants and animals find life easy. Researchers regularly travel to study the ‘Orc Wound’, trying to understand how so much thrives without major rainfall or a strong river. The end of the Wound is a holy site for the Elves, and rumors compel curiosity; leading only to miles of crosses and spikes adorned with heads. The Elves suffer no others on this ground. It’s believed that one band of Gnomes saw the heart of this space, leading to the race’s near extinction from the plains.
At the most cohesive of times, the Elves could be described as a tenuous confederation of tribes. Every several hundred years a strong chieftain rallies several tribes and carves out a small realm or sacks a neighboring country, but these splinter after the leaders’ deaths.
The long lifespans typical to elves mean little in an area with so much death.