From the Hadean Underworlds the dead and cursed march to make war upon the Mortal Realms at the bidding of heinous maters. Great and cruel sorcerers weave spells that bind lost spirits to their cause. Necromancers make plans to enslave all that live and breathe beneath the Sun. Such is the battle between the living and the dead, between the world of light and the darkness of the tomb, between the gods and ancient evils that even the gods eschew.
The corpse-soldiery of the Underworlds obeys without complaint or fear, making war without concern or hurt. Their flesh has long since fallen from their bones, or else shrivelled away to mere parchment that binds their spindly limbs and makes the skull a lidless and lipless face. The stench of death hangs about them. Grave-filth mires such armor as they bear. All is decay and ruin; bright bronze turned green, iron to red rust and blood dry and black as the Hadean Depths themselves.