The First Imperium

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The Regent was old, old. For millennia untold it had waited, waited in silence…in solitude. It waited for the Makers, but they had not come. No one had come. There was only the endless, aching stillness.

Ages ago, the Makers built the Regent. They built it to manage the Imperium. In their youth the Makers had been builders, scientists, explorers…they had burst out of their home system to claim a galaxy. They achieved mastery in the sciences, in the arts. They built a civilization that spanned the stars, and even the worlds themselves were but lumps of clay they molded to suit their whims. Like gods they were, and for uncounted centuries their civilization was ascendant, dynamic, ever striving for new levels of greatness.

But even the Makers were not immune to the relentless erosion of time. As their race matured they lost their driving force; they became distracted…then decadent, dissolute. Their dominion ceased to expand, and they fell to inaction - celebrating past glories while adding nothing to their legacy. Their race became a spent force, and the achievements of their forefathers seemed as unattainable legends. They tired of the mundane tasks of administering an empire, so they created the Regent to do it for them.

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