The war for the Planet of Xylos raged on with a brutal clash between a dying world's desperate defenders and the cold, calculated advance of the Kaelzar war machine. Defenses crumbled. Skies burned. And somewhere in the cold void beyond the chaos, one man smiled.
The infamous musician general lounged in his lavish private suite aboard the Eclipse, his personal flagship.
The room glowed with soft, decadent light. Aromas of rare alien incense mixed with the metallic tang of space. Two exotic women lay draped across silk sheets behind him, their bodies bathed in the low amber glow.
The musician general swirled his golden drink in a crystal glass, watching the liquid glimmer like a captured sun.
"Is the fleet assembled?" he asked with his voice being smooth as velvet and thick with boredom and power.
His officer stood at rigid attention while trying but failing to not look at the women on the bed. He swallowed audibly.
