Blightland is a world in apocalyptic state. Civilization has fallen as war, plague and madness has eaten away at the populace. Sometime around three-hundred years ago madness struck all the powerful magic users, clerical and arcane. Some followers of the Blind God seemed unaffected and in the times of panic some claimed they must have been the cause.
This was of course untrue but led to the purging wars in which all the known followers of the Blind God were hunted down and killed. This was unproductive at best and idiotic at worst as if the had not been hunted the solution may have been found sooner and saved many lives.
The madness was most pronounced in the Arcane magic users. Some simply ended their lives in a blast of arcane power [which some theorize added to the spell storm] Others began summoning vast numbers of otherworld creatures and monsters. Tearing open portals into nightmare and horror. Yet others become undead in an attempt to forestall the madness [there is yet more theories that some misguided idea led to the wasting (which is the disease that causes people to turn undead)]
For the most part Clerical magic practitioners simply withdrew from the land and either ended there own lives or opted for the vow of seclusion [which is when a priest decides to withdraw fully into seclusion and is actually bricked up into their prayer chamber]
A description of the end of days: Madness causes ever increasing unaligned or controlled magical outbursts and paranoia causes the first riots. The madness begins to work its way into lesser magic users and even some non-magic users. War begins fueled by panic.
The skies become ever clouded with the rise of the spell storm. Burning acid rain falls for a fortnight. One in five falls victim to the wasting and becomes a ghast or ghoul. The glimmering of hope is that a cleric of the Blind god named Walkul the Maimed has a prophetic dream that leads him to create the heart rune, which when tattooed halts the progression of the madness.
The Current state of affairs [a description]: The land is ever in twilight, cloud cover is absolute. Basically the day is like late evening and the night is the darkest of black. The spell storm much abated still rages in areas and often living spells drift the land. Those that die rise as uncontrolled undead after d6 days unless given the final rites [see rituals] those injured in combat risk catching the Wasting which left untreated causes them to become a ghast or ghoul. [This is the common thought in actuality what they become is dependant on hit die more then anything… they can become much more powerful undead in theory]
Three-hundred years of apocalyptic struggle has resulted in a number of problems/concerns. Attrition has eaten away from the survivors of the spell storm and the Wasting. Centuries of battling to survive also has eaten away from the artistry and joy. There is no time for play or most forms of education. All citizens train to fight as to the best of there abilities. Most are adepts of some sort as survival of the fittest has dictated adepts over mundane folk.
Equipment and gear is in a state of rarity as years of being unable to farm and build has lead to a shortage. Food for the most part is grown in city using a combination of magic and skill. Mushrooms and Rothe [subterranean cattle variant] are the staple diet of the citizens of the Citadel.
To offset the lack of artisan created gear the standard is to send out forage parties that strike towards some of the nearer ruins to attempt to find usable items or metal of any sort. This is a dangerous undertaking as undead roam the wilds and demons are not uncommon.