Nestled deep within the ancient groves of the Verdant Pact, Silver Moon Glade is a village of twilight and memory. Once an exclusively elven settlement, it now stands as a living testament to the Verdant Pact—home to both elves and orcs who have chosen unity over division, reverence over dominion.
The village encircles a towering mother tree, its silver-veined bark glowing faintly under moonlight. This tree is not merely ancient—it is ancestral. Elves believe it to be a direct descendant of the First Tree, the mythic origin of their kind. Its roots run deep, entwining with the bones of the land, and its canopy shelters more than homes—it shelters history.
Silver Moon Glade is quiet, but never still. Wind chimes made crystals sing in the breeze. Moss-covered paths lead to communal hearths where stories are traded like currency. Rituals are held beneath the boughs, blending elven song with orcish drum, and the air often carries the scent of cedar smoke and moonflower.
Though lacking formal leadership, the Glade is watched over by a rotating circle of druids and elders. Decisions are made slowly, with care, and always in consultation with the mother tree’s whisperings. Patrols from Starfall Ridge pass through often, sharing news and supplies, and many warriors choose to rest here between campaigns—finding solace in the Glade’s serenity.
Silver Moon Glade is not a fortress. It is a sanctuary. And in its stillness, the Pact finds its soul.