The Fallen Empire
The world ended, or at least came close enough that those of us left are just starting to understand just how much we lost. The Enemy came from beyond the great void, brought down on us by the misplaced prayers of those that slipped between the cracks.
It wasn't good or evil, a being of chaos or even order. It just was the Enemy. Of everything. Devils fought side by side with Angles, Paladins next to Necromancers, in the end, it really didn't matter. The gods, all of them, were forced to focus their attention on restraining the Enemy.
Now the realms are on their own, free of direct interference from the Divine. The gods can still speak to us through their followers, but our fate and the destiny of all that comes next has been left to us.
We are what is left of the world that came before the coming of the Enemy. The children orphaned during the twilight of what was, raised in the long night as it took its last breath, and now the inheritors of the world still mourning its loss.
Can we, the inheritors, find a way back to what we had? Or, are we doomed to fade away as our forebears, lost to the hunger of the Enemy that will never be satisfied.