(Insert Star Wars The Clone Wars Opening Theme)

Star Wars: War of the Gods

Peace is a lie

(Music at 00:16)

"Conflict is brewing on the horizon! With the galaxy gripped by panic from Ultron's revelation, the merciless machine now turns his attention towards the goal his creator set for him; annihilating every human Commander in existence. Even now, scout ships are being deployed all across the galaxy to hunt down his elusive prey. But while the Tsviets prepares for war, two human Commanders are already making their moves. Stark, the Sleeping Dragon, is marshalling his forces for a massive push onto the galactic stage, determined to rebuild his lost empire in preparation for the inevitable conflict with Ultron. Already, planets such as Naboo and Kashyyyk are facing imminent invasions the likes of which never seen before. But while Stark moves in the open, the Stormlord, cunning and ruthless, is silently stalking in the galaxy's shadows, biding his time for the right moment to strike. In his sights are the many Force sensitives scattered across the galaxy for a diabolical plot only he knows about. Caught between these three unstoppable juggernauts, the Republic and the Separatists collectively hold their breaths as they wait for the first blow to land."

(End music here)

Bardotta. A world of peace and tranquility. Steeped in deep mysticism, ruled by visions and prophecies, it had chosen to stay out of the war that gripped the rest of the galaxy, drawing inwards to itself in an effort to protect its people. And it worked, it kept the war from consuming what could possibly be one of the few bastions of peace left in the galaxy. But war was like an insidious plague. No matter how hard you struggled to get rid of it, sooner or later, it would catch up, and it would destroy you. Thus, on a morning like any other, with the sun high in the sky and a gentle breeze blowing from the east, war finally came to Bardotta. It would be the last war the planet's inhabitants would ever have to suffer.

It began small. Contact with outlying systems was lost without warning, then ships in the system's edges began to disappear. It concerned the rulers of Bardotta, but peace had made them dull and unwilling to provoke violence, so they sat back and waited, letting events play out whilst asking the Force for guidance. It would be their last mistake in this life. Unaware of the danger creeping ever closer towards their home, the people of Bardotta woke to a normal day's normal routines. Breakfast with the family, then off to work. It was high noon in the capital when their final doom fell upon them. The skies grew dark when before it had been bright and cloudless. Rumbles of an approaching storm worried the confused populace, but no true alarm was raised.

Then they came.

With a cacophonic wail like that of a million tortured souls, thousands of crescent-shaped fighters burst out of the black clouds and descended upon the hapless world below like a swarm of ravenous locusts. Behind them came the battleships, city-sized behemoths that blotted out the sky as they rained death and despair upon the world below it. Pandemonium broke out. Many fled in terror as the ancient spires around them toppled under the merciless bombardment, others threw themselves to the ground clutching their ears in agony, desperate to silence the torturous wails of the aircrafts flying above their heads.

Fighter squadrons, what few that existed on the planet, valiantly tried to take to the sky in a vain attempt to defend their beloved homeworld. Most were utterly atomized before they even got their engines warmed up, the few that actually managed to take to the skies were overwhelmed and annihilated in seconds, the lucky ones actually managing to take a single enemy fighter with them before succumbing to their enemy's sheer numbers.

On the ground, everything crumbled beneath the relentless onslaught of the invaders. Massive pyramid-like fortresses descended into the cities, crushing anything beneath them as they disgorged legions of skeletal machines, their soulless eyes alight with pale green fire that struck terror in all those that dared look upon them. Like a pack of frightened animals, the people fled in every direction to escape the carnage, desperate to live and see another day. But no matter where they ran, the enemy was there waiting for them, trapping them like cattle and forcefully herding them back towards their mobil pyramids. Many tried resisting, many tried escaping, none survived. A few thousand dead, turned to ash by the machines' unnatural weapons or torn to bloody shreds by their razor sharp claws, kept the remaining millions in line.

Bardottan infantry regiments, poorly trained and ill equipped for the situation, desperately tried to mount a counterattack to reclaim the lost cities. There was little coordination behind these futile attacks, and they fell like wheat before a scythe under the unstoppable march of the Necron Legions. Bardotta had been a world of peace, disdainful of the arts of war. They now paid the price for their naivety, as the whole world fell in less than a day, its cities nothing more than smoking ruins and its people rounded up like cheap livestock.

"This was just too easy," was all Anrakyr had to say on the matter from the bridge of his flagship. Why his master was even bothering with this whole shadowy cloak and dagger was beyond him. If this was the best the galaxy could throw at them, why not just attack in full force and take what he wanted? But he quickly banished those thoughts before they could grow any further. Who was he to question his master, he who stood alone as the greatest leader ever to grace this backwater galaxy? No, his master knew exactly what he was doing, and as his loyal servant, Anrakyr would trust in his judgment and follow his orders without doubt or questions. Speaking of orders, he needed to report in about now about the success of his mission.

"Contact the Stormlord," he ordered. Seconds later, a perfect holographic image of his master appeared before him, and Anrakyr swiftly fell to one knee before him.

"Master, I am pleased to report that Bardotta has been taken. We have suffered next to no casualties, and most of the planet's population has been secured and awaiting transport," he reported. Silence fell between them, with the Stormlord simply staring at him without saying a word. Inwardly, Anrakyr began to wonder if he had done something wrong here. Had he misinterpreted his orders in some manner.

"And the Bardottan leadership?" the Stormlord finally asked.

"We have them all, my lord," Anrakyr replied. And this time, the Stormlord was swifter with his reply.

"Good work. Send a portion of your fleet to transport all the prisoners back to Hoth immediately. Szeras is growing quite eager to begin his experiment. Meanwhile, you'll be taking the majority of your fleet and travel to Dathomir. Same procedure, round up as much of the population as possible, and collect every artifact you can find," the Stormlord ordered, to which Anrakyr bowed in reverence.

"As you wish, my lord," he intoned, already accessing his files about Dathomir and its population. Small, primitive, but steeped in mysterious powers. They would fall just as easily as the Bardottans to his unstoppable legions.

"Oh, and one more thing," the Stormlord suddenly added. "Destroy the surface of Bardottan entirely. Leave no evidence behind of our presence," personally, Anrakyr saw no reason for this level of secrecy, but it was the will of the Stormlord. And may his will be done.

"As you wish, I will turn the entire world to ash in your name," he answered with another bow that seemed to please the Stormlord. Anrakyr's loyalty would forever stop him from seeing the flaw in his master, but the Stormlord was slowly growing into quite a megolamaniac.

"Excellent, then I leave it in your capable hands. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some important matters that needs my immediate attention in the Outer Rim," with that said, the connection was closed, and Anrakyr began carrying out his new orders with all haste.

...

The planet of Belkadan was not what most would call an important planet on the galactic stage. If anything, it seemed quite insignificant for anyone to even pay so much as a fleeting glance at it. That changed five hours ago, when Nemesor Zahndrekh swooped in an conquered the whole system. Now it served as the second largest gathering of Necron warships in the galaxy, second only to Hoth.

"And it's about damn time, if you ask me! Seriously, it's been over half a year, and only now is the war getting into gear! Don't know what excuse you have for being so damn late, Lu Bane Na, but I know that Lord-of-Change was simply being his usual lazy self and sitting at home eating pizza and watching cartoons!" Zahndrekh unfairly proclaimed, as the very kind and humble author had been struggling at home with studies and working on his own book series.

"Quit your whining already, you overgrown baby, and get the plot rolling again! I doubt the readers came all this way just to listen to me breaking the Fourth Wall like I'm freaking Deadpool or something," Zahndrekh shouted into the air.

"Sir, the decoy fleet is ready," one of his automaton servants suddenly reported, which instantly had Zahndrekh's undivided attention.

"Excellent," a quick glance at the numerous holographic images surroundings his throne aboard the bridge, he could see the small decoy fleet gathered at the very edge of the system. Composed of naught but Eldar vessels, they were the bait on which Zahndrekh planned to ensnare the Tsviets and reel them in.

"Deploy the bait," seconds after the given order, the Eldar fleet jumped into FTL and vanished, heading into unknown regions of space in search of their target.

"And now we wait and hope that the fish is hungry today," Zahndrekh commented as he retook his seat, going over the vast amounts of plans he had drawn up in preparation for the upcoming war. The Stormlord had tasked him with destroying the Tsviets, and he would not fail his master.