The “Elf Village” is a forest of stone trees. The designer built towers of various sizes, the dimensions of which vary based on the structures purpose, and built arches at random spots to simulate branches. The simulated branches have grooves on the top filled with soil and living greenery (an attempt at leaves). These are the homes and shops of the Elves of Caervold.
The effect is not wholly unpleasant. The streets are well shaded, the buildings are weather proof, and the area has a charming Sunday afternoon quality to it. The trouble is that in order to build these immense tree simulations the Human government had to tear down an equally immense ancient sylvan grove. They cemented up a sacred pool to form the Villages well and cobble-stoned over many rare plants. The Fairies who lived in and around the pool were driven out, except for a sad few who still brokenheartedly flap around the pool with droopy wings and gloomy expressions.
Young Elves who would have once been promising warriors and hunters now become very skilled assassins, Elven youths with a talent for the mystical arts who would have done well as healers and dream weavers now specialize in the reanimation of dead matter.
The main income in the community is from the thriving herbal drug trade, and flesh merchants. Elven men and women sell themselves in order to afford the drugs that are grown there. Behind the facade of the fairytale Elven town lies a beating black heart of sin and vice. The narcotic plants that are grown here are renown for their potent effects on Humans and are sought out by bored young nobles looking for a good time.
Authorities say that they are against these drugs and make a big show of supporting rehab clinics, while behind closed doors they quite happily allow it to continue. As long as the Elves are to busy poisoning themselves they won’t realize how bad they are being screwed over.