Across the barren streets of a long lost dream. Across the barren streets of a long-lost dream, the poor whisper of greatness, and the rich speak only of betrayal. Many came for fortune, most never left, their families in cycles of abuse by a broken system. 

As civil unrest consumed the mainland, the colonies could do nothing but watch, powerless as their master tore itself apart. An empire that once spanned the world now struggled to hold even its own cities together. In Scorpius, along with their northern brothers in Equuleus and southern sisters in Cygnus, isolation weighed heavily, their ties to the empire no more than a distant memory.

In war, many dream of the glory of a last stand, a moment to etch their names into history. Yet for most, such moments never come.

As the empire crumbled, Scorpius stood on the brink of despair. The Sentinels knew they would need to endure, their blue banners a defiant symbol of freedom in the face of ruin. With heavy hearts and uncertain fates, they marched into the rugged mountains, knowing full well they might never return to those they loved.

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Onward they marched for days, threading the narrow passes and sprawling trails of the mountains. Along their way, they 'liberated' village after village—places left hollow, abandoned or too weak to resist. The inhabitants watched from their windows or fled to the hills, wary of trading one oppressor for another.

Word reached the Sentinels of the chaos festering down south, a rebellion turned kingdom. The so-called Colonial Emperor, John Bennet, a former colony overseer, had crowned himself ruler barely a month ago. His armies, a patched-together mob of desperate soldiers and mercenaries, were locked in their own bid to seize power over Scorpius.

The Sentinels tasked themselves with seizing control over their fractured nation and implementing what they believed to be true freedom.