Fifteen years ago, a vicious pathogen spread across Westros. It decimated cities and turned its human hosts into lethal, zombie-like husks. As the infection spread, civil wars and riots erupted around the continent.
And then, as quickly as it had come, the plague receded into dormancy and the shattered survivors slowly began to rebuild. Eventually, many came to believe the danger had passed and vigilance slipped into complacency. Pockets of the remaining population, outlaw groups and survivalists, maintained the virus would be back, cautioned that burning corpses wasn’t enough to stop the inevitable.
And they were right; the infection has reemerged, wrecking havoc on a crumbling civilization.
The once-stringent Quarantine Zones have sagged into makeshift city-states, autonomous units with porous borders; they are unprepared for the surge of infected within and without. The military forces are scattered, loyal to local powers. There is no unified government and there is no chain of command.
In the chaos of a second outbreak and a new tide of sweeping carnage, the people of Westeros struggle to find their way: some seek power, some shelter, some seek to flee, others to become saviours. And some just want to survive, whatever the cost.