It has been only a handful of years since the eight nations embarked on Project Razor. Hardly any time at all since the Champions in their thousands rode forth into Ancient Creation, and threw down the Breakers where they sat, complacent in their millennia old victory over their own children. But a few of seasons since the Champions rendered the Great Maker’s cousins to motes and ash – to less than nothing – and watched as Ancient Creation, the world maintained by the Breakers’ own natures, crumbled into decaying nodes as the Wyld consumed it.
In that time, Autochthonian culture has flourished; but the Alchemicals were made for war, and though the war is over, heroism still burns in their hearts. They yearn for conflict. Adventure. And there is adventure to be had, for the Reaches are wild and untamed, and within them, elders sense great powers stirring, as evil – forgotten since the time of the First War – moves to threaten the new founded Golden Age.
And so, with the legends of Ancient Creation gone, the adventurers of Autochthonia seek their future in other fables: the ancient lost city of Hyperion calls to them, from the trackless depths of the Reaches.
Hyperion, from whence the eight set forth with their followers to found the nations of man. Hyperion, beyond whose gates lie the infinite resources of the Primordial Source. Hyperion, a necropolis, where five-score forgotten stars stand in eternal vigil over the cyclopean stasis tombs of the champions of Ancient Creation, secreted away at the moment of the Great Defeat, millennia ago, and carried by the Great Maker into hiding in the closing epoch of the First War.
It is in Hyperion that your future lies.
If you dare to seek it.