Falkovnia

The days of the living are numbered in Falkovnia. The people would flee if they could, taking their chances in the Mists, but they aren't allowed that choice. The military has turned against the people, making them prisoners within their own country. With cudgel and pike, the soldiers of Falkovnia force every commoner into grueling labor, rushing them to raise fortifications and scalp scrawny roots form the dirt. Every lash strike, every day of meager rations is necessary--or so the soldiers claim-- because time is short and the dead are coming.

Falkovnia is a land besieged. Empty countryside surrounds ruined or crumbling cities. A few desperate pockets of civilization survive, carrying on not out of hope, but out of the fear of the land's merciless soldiers. Led by General Vladeska Drakov, Falkovnia's military organize a desperate and occasionally effective defense against an implacable foe: the ever-growing armies of the undead.

Every month a new zombie legion issues from the Mists. Never emerging from the same place twice., the horde sweeps across the land, drawn to the densest populations of the living. That's currently the Falkovnian capitol of Lekar, where unfit and underfed conscripts defend crumbling walls alongside General Drakov and her crimson-armored elite soldiers, the Talons. Casualties stack up during the zombie sieges, but miracles and moments of valor have not abandoned Falkovnia. The people's numbers dwindle, but they soldier on.

In the aftermath of an attack, the Flakovnians burn their dead, repair what they can, and whisper that now may be the time to flee. Invariably though, someone speaks too loudly and a traitor is impaled on Lekar's walls. The people might want to abandon their homes, but Vladeska Drakov will not know defeat.