Foundered

Prologue: Shadow of the Past Age

Ash: such an astounding thing it is, albeit a mere speck of microscopic materials, insignificant orbs of grey carbon, 'tis a ghost of an ancient age; long may it be since the fires have doused, the ashes remain vigil for far longer, haunting the earth with a grandfather tale. The account may or may not be of grand magnificence now. Nuclear ash, however, now that is a completely different tale.

Funny thing how the people who swore to defend our very world were the ones who demolished it, choked the world, and in an attempt to erase all our troubles, began new ones.

Was it the Sino-American war that truly begun it all? Was it the last crusade which triggered the breaking of the world? Or was it but the inevitable result of mankind's insatiable lust for power and wealth? Whatever may be, its outcome has the world but foundered.

In the beginning, it was a mere argument. But as more factions joined in, all hell broke loose.

I remember seeing the mushroom clouds rise on television, and the cold embrace of nuclear winter grasp the warring countries as the last stockpiles of grain ran empty. Anarchy took place, the blight broke out in the same year, which saw the undead rise and our last governments collapse. Now we, the survivors of the culling, are but a foundered people, lost and dying. Our citadels are the last beacons of hope for humanity against those who dare to wreak havoc upon us: zombies, mutants, monsters, bandits, rogue AI, warring factions, and we ourselves. Welcome, friends, to this foundered world. And prepare yourself, for the dawn of a new age.