A single beast can feed the clan. A single hunter can inspire it.

Born in the dawn of the Wyldwood, the High Spiritseer is one of the eldest living beings in the forest, an ancient elf from the time when her kin still bore the forms of deer. She is both guardian and echo of the forest’s first age, when time flowed differently and every breath of wind carried meaning. She tends to the wounded groves and forgotten creatures. She speaks the silent languages of the trees, communes with animals, and hears the voices of the woodwisps. Among the Leafsong, she is revered as both healer and shepherd. Though the world around her grows darker, she remains a beacon of the old ways, an immortal reminder of harmony, reverence, and the sacred pact between life and the forest.

When they speak, the forest answers

While all elves are attuned to the natural world, the Wyldspeaker is something rarer, a true voice of the forest. Born with the gift to commune directly with beasts, birds, and crawling things, they are more often found in the company of animals than their own kind. Where others listen to the woods, the Wyldspeaker speaks back. To the Leafsong, they are an emissary and a bridge, calling upon the forest’s creatures for aid, guidance, or protection. In times of peace, they mend wounds, carry messages through the trees, and guide lost creatures back to safety. But in battle, their bond with the wild becomes a storm of fur, fang, and feather. A single cry can summon a stampede or call a predator to strike from the shadows.

Crowned in antler, carved in bone.

The pinnacle of elven ferocity, a towering, antler-crowned warrior who earned their title through ritual combat against their kin. Only the strongest, fastest, and most cunning bucks rise to this role, their dominance marked not just by their stature, but by the razor-sharp swords they forge from their own shed antlers. These blades are as unique as their wielders, each one grown, shed, and carved across the seasons of a warrior’s life. In battle, the Alpha is the first to charge, reckless and proud, eager to prove their strength and protect the herd. Yet their role is not just one of fury, they are mentors to the young, passing down the art of the war, the discipline of the duel, and the hard-won wisdom of surviving the Wyldwood’s many dangers.

Songs older than stone, magic deeper than root.

The voice of memory and magic among the Leafsong, a revered figure who carries the teachings of Eryndar. Retelling the ancient stories through haunting melodies, dance, and ritual, weaving history and wisdom into living song. More than just a storyteller, the Loresinger is deeply attuned to the forest’s secret language. They speak to trees, stones, and spirits alike, coaxing the Wyrd to twist the wind, call the rain, or shroud the herd in protective enchantments. Their magic shelters hidden glades and misleads wandering foes, bending nature itself to guard their kin. In times of peace, they are emissaries, building fragile trust with druids and spirit-bound races. In times of war, their songs sharpen like thorns, echoing across the glade as both shield and spear.

The arrow is thought, the bow is will, the forest is watching.

Lone watchers who walk the unseen paths ahead of the herd. They live solitary lives, roaming the winding routes of the migration long before the others arrive. Their role is not only to scout, but to shield, to sense the shifting winds, to read the language of birds and branches, and to strike before danger ever touches the glades their kin call home. Each Sentinel bears a living weapon grown from rare Wyrdwood, shaped through decades of cultivation and care. With them, Sentinels summon arrows of vine, thorn, wind, and raw magic, loosing silent death from the treetops or across the open paths. Though few ever see them, the presence of a Sentinel is always felt, an unnatural stillness before the herd’s passing, a predator found felled without sound or struggle.