Melanchthon.
The broken crown of a forgotten kingdom. A black pearl glittering in the sunless deep. A home-world of traitors and renegades, of betrayers and reavers, of the lost and the damned.
In the heart of the Maelstrom lies the Phrygian Sector. Amidst the star-rich galactic core, the Phrygian Sector lies barren and silent, a vast wilderness space feared and avoided by the merchant fleets of the Imperium and countless Xenos species that harvest the more profitable worlds, systems, and sectors of the Imperium of their wealth and resources. Settled in an unremembered age of hope and progress, the battlefleets of trade kingdoms crossed the cold depths at the sector's heart, warring with each other over the most profitable trading routes and shipping lanes.
Arcane pinnacles of human science, their ships guarded the wealth of dynasties and brokered alliances with the alien and abhuman empires that lay scattered across the galactic core. And at the heart of those dynasties lay the world of Melanchthon.
Now a death-world of barren valleys and broken mountains, Melanchthon was once a hive-world. Settled by those wishing to exploit the rich veins of ores and minerals buried beneath its surface, the hive-cities of Melanchthon were turned inward, their inhumane depths grasping like desperate claws as their citizens pushed deeper and deeper with every passing century.
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