YET some men say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead, but had by the will of our Lord Jesu into another place; and men say that he shall come again, and he shall win the holy cross. I will not say it shall be so, but rather I will say: here in this world he changed his life. But many men say that there is written upon his tomb this verse: Hic jacet Arthurus, Rex quondam, Rexque futurus. - La Morte D'arthur
There are stories told around camp fires and banquet tables of a world that man once ruled. There are legends that speak of ancient kings enslaving the very forces of nature to their whim, binding lightning to serve in their fortresses and wielding sorceries to shape the very earth. Certainly, the great rusting expanses of the ancient cities lead credence to those tales.
They also bear proof to their conclusion.
In all the stories, man delved too deep, meddled with a power that should not have been trifled with, and lost everything. The secrets of the ancient sorceries were stripped from them, and with it, the power that allowed them to light their homes at night without fire, to kill their enemies at a distance of miles, to soar through the air on a whim, and, most importantly, to feed the teeming masses.
All the stories agree that the famine and disease tore through the lands on a scale that can scarcely be imagined.
But, life went on, and people survived. Generations passed, many of them, and the truths of the past faded into myth and legend.
Welcome to...
the Mists of Avalon
The Mists of Avalon take place in a post-post-apocalyptic Britain. The past is dead, but your ancestors survived its death and have forged something out of the rust and ashes.
None of the chemical and physical reactions that make modern technology or warfare possible exist, yet life goes on. Most people dont believe, in fact, that the stories of what mankind accomplished in the past are anything but exaggerated stories and legends.
There is only more thing universally of note for the inhabitants of the Isles. They are in all ways that matter a prison. People know that there was once a larger world beyond the rocky shores of Brittania, but that world is forever lost. A thick mist floats miles off shore, and none who have sailed into the mist have returned.