Mortis was the goddess of life ruling an elder race with her husband Gallean. But conflict erupted between Gallean and Wotan for control of the northern lands. The two gods fought a vicious battle. Lands trembled, winds howled, and lightning bolts split the blue-black sky. Despite Gallean's strong magic, Wotan triumphed, tore out his rival's hearth, and hurled it into the blazing sun. Mortis threw herself into the flames, sacrificing her divine flesh in an attempt to retrieve the heart of her slain consort. But it was not to be.

The disfigured goddess vented her rage on the Alkmaar. A mystic people, well versed in the mystic arts of sorcery, the Alkmaar prospered in the arid lands south of the realm. Mortis enshrouded them in an evil mist, and her plague quickly decimated the race.

Then, Mortis cursed the soil so the dead Alkmaar would know no peace. She created an army of dead, fashioned after her hideous appearance. The undead abominations mindlessly followed Mortis, sweeping through the land of the living, executing the evil bidding of their wretched goddess. It is a bidding that focused on only on prize: not conquest - Mortis had no need of corporal possessions, not glory - it mattered not to Mortis what creatures felt for her, but blood... Mortis has but one desire, vengeance upon Wotan and to spill the blood of the Mountain Clans...

"Ten years later... The threat is more real than ever... The battle of the gods continues... The dark prophecy is still haunting your dreams..."