Taken from the notes of Doctor Termidan Glockenschmidt:

Darkon is the largest country of the Core?, accounting for about one-third of the continent's total land mass. A breathtaking variety of landscapes and ecologies are encompassed within its vast expanses: from dense evergreen forests, to soaring mountains, to rolling plains, to jagged, rocky shorelines. Similarly, Darkon is home to a great diversity of animal life, from the common squirrel and wolf to infinitely stranger and most savage beasts.

Yet for all its natural wonders, Darkon--like much of the Core? itself--is greatly underpopulated. Only about 110,000 people call the Foul Kingdom home, and this number is widely scattered among hundreds of tiny thorps and hamlets. Darkon possesses only three cities to speak of, namely Martira Bay, Karg and Viaki. A fourth city--Il Aluk?--used to surpass all of these in both size and culture, until it was razed about five years ago during a catastrophic magical experiment.

Unlike in other realms, non-humans are not a rarity in Darkon. Indeed, their numbers are substantial enough that whole communities of their kind exist throughout the land, the most notable being the elven settlement of Nevuchar Springs, the dwarven mining-town of Tempe Falls, and the gnomish city of Mayvin (which is presumably your home). Such racial diversity has created a more open and accepting atmosphere in the Darkon; there are no racial purges here, nor are there government-controlled ghettos or "subhuman" regulation laws.

Darkon is ruled by Azalin Rex, a wizard-king of incredible power. No one can recall a time when Azalin did not rule the Foul Kingdom, and few think that such a time will ever come. Yet Azalin is not a unnecessarily cruel or insane king--he is tyrannical, yes, but his rule is generally fair, and he demands little of his subjects save regular taxes.

Finally, and significantly, Darkon is a kingdom obsessed with death. Folktales, local traditions and, in fact, the state religion are all centered around the belief that the land of the living was "stolen" from the dead aeons ago. All Darkonians live in fear of the Hour of Ascension, when the armies of Death will ride out of the Mists and reclaim that which is rightfully theirs. Oddly enough, these beliefs are reinforced by (or, perhaps, spawned from) the profusion of undead which terrorize the Foul Kingdom's meager settlements. Rumors and legends abound of travelers reaching a small farming village, only to find it inhabited entirely by the living dead. Mothers tell children to stay out of forests and marshes, not for fear of getting lost or being attacked by wolves, but for fear of calling the attention of risen zombies and mindless, shambling monstrosities.