The world was united, once. The continent of Mordania unified under the banner of a supreme Demigod, one who wielded the power to command the reanimated dead to better the world of the living.
The Mordin Divinarchy is little more than a memory now; The God-King Alarec is long since dead. While the technology and science brought about through five hundred years of peace remain, they have been turned to the cruel art of war, at the petty whims of warlords and aspiring emperors. The undead and mindless Sketera, brought into servitude from honoured corpses and honourable foes to be loyal servants to the living, have turned on their masters and stories spread far and wide from survivors of their merciless pillages of a great and fearsome skeletal king bending them to its will.
Even as the darkness spreads, suffocating each civilisation in turn, nations project their desperation outwards in great wars, or turn inwards to withdraw deeper within their borders - the ancient bonds established through centuries of unity are severed beyond repair.
But yet, there is hope. The Sketera can be slain, and the whispers on the winds are of ancient secrets of which even the skeletal king fear. If there were any so wise as to seek them, brave enough to pursue depute the odds, and powerful enough to emerge victorious, perhaps the tides that threaten to swallow the Two Continents could be halted, or even turned back.