From Introduction: Once, long ago, stood a city of man. It was proud, and it was mighty. The merchants grew wealthy; the lawmen kept the peace; the priests counselled wisdom. It was a fine place. Today, it is an overgrown ruin. There was a war, the story goes; the Sidhe queen coveted the soil the city was built on. Her servants hold leaf-choked court over the remains. The streets are naught but weeds. Between claustrophobic copses of greenery, you may spy a weathered hunk of granite or exposed foundation. Where men once walked, there are only the trees, and the unseelie things that live among them. They say the Cities’ Dead sleep poorly here. And why shouldn’t they? Ousted from their homes by nature itself. It is said the last men of the city swore they would see Death’s Black Gates remade from black bark and fair-folk sap. And thus began the second great war, and the forest that was a city earned the name of Corpseglade. Yet even stories of the second war are old, by mortal reckoning. The forces of life and death reached a stalemate in their eternal, quiet war. But unknown to all, a third player has entered the stage. No matter the victor, the Servants of Rot see a grand opportunity. If the dead succeed, there shall be an army of the restless dead to enslave. If nature prevails, it will mean a near-limitless supply of fresh life to corrupt. No matter the victor, it seems, mortal life stands to lose. And now fate or circumstance brings the adventurers to Corpseglade. What will happen next, I wonder?