A Primer on Valael

Welcome everyone, to Arys and the continent of Valael.
Valael is divided in respects both physical and ideological. One of the two main physical obstacles of magnanimity is the Glassglow Mountain range. This turbulent environment is home to many beasts and hardened folk who must stay vigilant to maintain their existence as guardians of the borders between wilderness and civilization. Under the mountains lie treasures of the past, now guarded by dark horrors banished to the depths of the Underdark for their avarice. Past the mountains to the north lies a landscape even more unforgiving - the perpetual winter wastes of the Primorsk. Here tribes of men and orcs fight back against the frozen world and the twisted horrors that lie behind the eternal blanket of white, relics of the Reckoning's mad fluctuations of planar magic long ago. Life here is hell and death a sweet release, a moment of warmth preceding eternal cold.
The other natural barrier lies right at the midsection of Valael - the Everplain, where endless miles of grasslands and rolling hills bisect the continent. While the landscape is pristine, the ocean of green becomes uniform the longer one is in it, causing vertigo, a loss of direction and even hallucinations and a loss of logical reasoning. This condition has come to affectionately be called plains madness. Only the native centaur and halfling tribes are innured to its effects and they serve as the sole guide to those making their way across this deceptively dangerous land. Just south and to the east of the Everplain lies Hamaka, a confederation of city-states governed by sorcererous families and maintained by a strict set of rules called the Codex, lest these places return to the constant bloodshed and backstabbing of previous centuries. Further south along the eastern coast lies the elven nation of Vepar. Once a paragon of acceptence and natural beauty, the country now only extends as far as the shrinking borders of its forests allow, maintaining a strict closed-door policy and stance of neutrality. To the west of these places lies the largest principality in Valael by landmass and by population, the Cerulean Empire. The empire encompasses many lands, from the barren rocks of the Earthfang Scar, the fertile grounds of Edenvale, to the lively shores of the Amadas Coast. Though the lands of the empire are diverse the peoples therein do not oft share this viewpoint of each other. The theocratic government is led by the High Priests of the Highborn, a religion which came to prominence only 300 or so years ago and which favors the first five "born" races of Arys above all others. Dwarves, elves, gnomes, halflings, and humans are afforded special privileges and rights that other races are not. All races of people are welcome in the empire but not all can be afforded citizenry, which has created a largely prejudiced society against those unlucky enough not to be 'highborn'.
Between the Glassglow and the Everplain lie temperate climates that are home to two neighboring countries: Arteros and Eleriath. Much of the countries' histories are reflexively intertwined with one another, as they have bickered and squabbled with each other for innumerable reasons over the past 800 years that they have been established. The Republic of Arteros and the Federation of Eleriath have never come to all out war in their history but recent rumblings of a heated border dispute have brought back that fear in recent months. The metropolitan peoples of Eleriath have a proud history of magical competency, while the sources of magical research and advancement in Arteros are sequestered to one or two cities in its southern part. While tensions have always existed at a middling level, many in these sister countries feel that they are reaching a boiling point.
But enough with histories of forgotten years. Our story begins in Arteros in the Amarin Valley, not too far south from the Glassglow Mountains. The Dusk Wood borders the northern section of the valley while the inhospitable Dusk Gulch borders the southern. Both places are difficult to traverse. The Dusk Wood comprises of huddled masses of thorns and vines with impossibly large trees that reflect the last remnants of magic from the elven kingdom that once resided there. The Dusk Gulch is a more barren landscape, with high cliff walls that look over a lonely, winding canyon which harbors rumors of rampant death and undeath. These obstacles make travel to and from the region rather hard, the only ways being through careful (and oft expensive) guides or through magical means. Thusly, most people who are born here rarely ever leave. But it is not the grim prospect that it might sound like. The inner valley of the Dusk Meadow is home to plentiful farm lands that provides many different crops with sustenance and the sole city of Foster is a melting pot of various traditions, innovations, and corruptions.
It is Taerune, the 13th of Sariel of the year 976 AR, or after-Reckoning. The sun is just beginning to set over the Dusk Meadow, setting a orange glint through the plentiful purple illuvitar flowers of the meadow. This gives off a pleasant, muddled haze above the tall grass from which the valley takes its name. The orange rays of the sun glances off the carriages and worn faces of the farmers carting their goods into the town of Foster. The harvest has begun, which means that the annual Festival of Plenty is also about to begin. Around the city wooden tables are being set up and plates of food set upon them. Much of the streets are lined with fall leaves and red and orange banners, with children dressing up as scarecrows and chasing the many stray chickens around the city. Now the first day of the festival commences with the cracking of the harvest bell, followed by a large open auction in the town square where vendors of the city and farmers from the surrounding land bring forth their best products and goods. This is then followed by feasting, drinking and general merriment into the wee hours of the morning.
Unofficially, however, there is a larger attraction that takes place under the city, and some would say a much more exciting one. Those who can find their way down through the sewer systems or are privileged enough to know of a secret back entrance are greeted with a salacious and gritty series of amusements, all situated in and around a giant, sand-covered divot in the ground known as the Kennel. Around this blood-stained arena there is a wide walkway where all manners of folks sell all manners of things. This is a place where the law has no hold, so there are goods sold here that may be too illustrious or illegal to be sold topside. The main attraction, however, are the Fights of Fortune. This betting magnet showcases some of the best fighters around squaring off against the most vile beasts that the benefactors of the Kennel can provide. It is uniformly attended by all classes of people, even from nobility outside of the Amarin Valley. Blood and gratuitous violence is an attraction that can appreciated across all walks of life, of course.
It is in this musky, iron-scented smoke box of an arena that we begin our story. As the latest series of common folk make their way out of one of the nearby tunnels, a wide-eyed, rather out of place figure makes their way through the crowd...