"For Want of Wings, I Cast Away My Skin"
The fires of war have spread through the Kishar system, burning for longer than anyone alive can remember.
Colossal fleshcrafted machines of war, pygmalions, are the hands by which the system is torn to pieces. With no apparent weaknesses besides the pilot inside of them, pygmalions provide incredible power at horrific cost.
From the tumult, a third front emerged. The dynasties of Kishar united, rising from the ashes of an apocalyptic catastrophe into an Empyrean Court and laying claim to the heritage of humanity. This marked the beginning of the Eternal Century.
With the Divine Solis Imperium and the Kreuzhafen Union of Autonomous Colonies showing no signs of breaking, the war could continue forever, a rapturous feast of blood on a scale incomprehensible to any single person.
Those with interests in ending the war grow tired. The time for drastic action draws near, dangling like a sword over the heads of those who would be kings. It is only a matter of time before the stalemate will be broken.