- Elves are born wearing hats. And the hats grow up with the elf. As half-elves are born without hats, they are often called "hatless ones" by true elves.
- Elves are the byproduct of human heroes fornicating with nymphs. See Odysseus and Calypso, Odysseus and Circe, Odysseus and your mother, etc. Seriously, if your character is an elf, odds are pretty good Odysseus is your daddy. Of course nobody is aware of this since nymphs don't waste a single second of their eternal lives being maternal. Rather, shortly after copulation, they wander off to some private spot in their grove, glen, glade, or grotto, lay an elf-egg, and never give the matter another thought. Instead,
- Elflings are raised by sprites or pixies or some other faerie-type beings who collect the nymph eggs and tend to the baby elves until they outgrow their surrogate parents. At which point the elf-in-training gloms on to the community of elves that inevitably crops up around every nymph dell after Odysseus passes through town.
- Elves are androgynous in appearance. In size, build, and, often, in temperament, both male and female elves closely resemble adolescent boys, minus the acne and boners. Incapable of growing hair on their excessively angular faces and emaciated bodies, and with high, often squawky, voices, they're sex appeal to humans is limited to perhaps a few lesbians and fetishists.
- Elves are capable of expressing only 3 emotions: amusement, disinterest, and sarcasm. And none of those is actually an emotion. As a result, Humans and most other, non-faerie races find the company of elves to be unsettling if not downright obnoxious.
- Elves cannot procreate with their own kind. Or maybe they find the company of other elves just as off-putting as the rest of us do. In any event, the offspring of elves are always half elves, fathered by humans, gnomes, mind flayers, whatever; so long as their mate is not elven in any way.
- Those eyes are creepy. In the immortal words of Phil Hartman, to whom this blog is eternally* indebted:
Hartman: The eyes, the window to your skeleton.
Straight man: Don't you mean "soul"?
Hartman: If you have one.
* Not so eternally after all since I changed the name of the blog in summer 2014.