glad spade
It has been sixty years since the world ended for reasons unknown. While there are some still alive that lived through the apocalypse, they speak of it with hazy memories and vague, almost dreamlike stories. Common points shared throughout all retellings however is a sudden shift into pandemonium across the world, the common people succumbing to madness as all felt the dread of an impending doom spreading across the world. This wasn't the usual rioting chaos however; it was madness and despair and a slew of different emotions. Some sat in their homes in comalike states, others fled cities and towns, manically preparing for something they had no way of fighting against. Within a week, society as it was known crumbled under the pressure of looming dread. That was all before dead even began to rise once again.
Survivors of the initial panic were now left in a world overrun with the dead. It took only two years for humanity to face extinction at the hands of low supplies and hungry rotting mouths, and yet the state of the world somehow managed to worsen more than that.
After three years of zombie hell, a black and unrelenting fog descended over the world. Those who tried to tame or live with it were quickly lost to the all-encompassing fog, whether by unnaturally charged undead or the filthy corruption the haze brought with it. Remaining survivors turned to the underground to survive odds that were entirely stacked against them as they desperately hoped to wait the fog out.
Under generator-powered fluorescent light and train track campfires humanity huddled together. It was a rough period of time for all due to the living conditions and extreme measures that had to be taken to survival. It was in the sewers and maintenance tunnels that rumours began to spread of otherworldly creatures and cults existing. While most dismissed these reports as campfire stories and hearsay some believed them wholeheartedly, the bravest and the dumbest of which even attempting to seek these unnatural forces out.
It was a rough period of time, but after nine years of waiting portions of land began to clear up, allowing humanity to settle on the surface once more. Undead numbers had quelled to a manageable amount and comfort could be felt for the first time in twelve years. A new period of prosperity had begun for the human race. Land was reclaimed, settlements, cities and groups began to establish themselves and hope was on the horizon once more.
Rapid progress couldn't last forever. Forty eight years of living and expansion has lead to safe zones suffering a drought of supplies. Food, water and other necessities are running low. Factions and cities rely upon the fog rolling back to reveal new avenues of scavenging. Whenever a town or city is cleared it's a mad dash to claim and scour it for supplies. It's a dangerous endeavor as recently cleared land is rife with undead and opposing faction scouts. Only a few weeks ago, a large city known as Raven Creek has been unveiled by fog. The journey to the city is long and dangerous, and the place itself is untamed. After several lengthy meetings, settlements and factions have begrudgingly agreed to form a Coalition expedition force.
