The eladrin say nothing of what the world was before. History begins with the coming of the Great Storm, where the Elemental Chaos tore open and showered the land. Most died. They were burned by fire; crushed in stone; drowned in waves; gone rigid with frost. The name for this land has been forgotten—it is known now as the scene of a heavenly slaughter. In commemoration, it is called the Slaughtervale.
Many fled, heeding the words of sages and prophets. They left the artifacts of their life behind and fled to echoes of the natural world. These refugees found new dangers in the Feywild and the Shadowfell. The Storm that butchered and transformed so many also lifted the ‘vale and its echoes from the world. Surrounding the mountains of the ‘vale now are the Mad Plains, a vast expanse of nothingness in which no life may exist. Those the storm did not kill, it transformed.
The Storm brought visitors as well. From the power-hungry sojanni who inhabit the Ash to the calculating frost giants of Icevane, the Slaughtervale is ruled by new powers. The elements have ravaged and changed even the land itself. earthmotes float in the skies near to ice drifts and expanses of cooled magma.
It is unclear where the Slaughtervale dwells. Is it cut off from the world, does it exist in its own plane? No answers offer themselves to seekers, but facts are known. The gods do not speak. The portals between the ‘vale and it’s echoes are more numerous than before, almost porous. The Elemental Chaos lies out of reach of the most zealous of travellers. Sages consider the ‘vale out of the flow of the cosmos, a realm pocketed away in some far abused corner of the vastness of worlds.
Wherever it is, it is this land which you were born into. It is this land you must survive.