The History of the Decepticon Empire

The text below, detailed within a tome recovered by the Protectobots of the city-state of Iacon, appears to be the recorded journals of a Decepticon and from their historical context they were obviously written subsequent to the arrival and departure of Unicron. While the veracity of the contents described therein is impossible to authenticate, it is the opinion of this Autobot that the author is, indeed, a Decepticon and that the dates of these recordings are accurately depicted. Clearly, though, the recountings that unfold within these journals are told from a decidedly Decepticon mindset. Any data that can be derived from these texts must be viewed in that light.

- Dutifully recorded on this Barani, the 219 Day of the Cold Sun,

In the Year of Prime's Mercy,

Year 8 of the 9th Age by Faithful Recorder Thaere,

Regional Governor of Thetiset Sisterhood of Nova Cronum.

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The Autobot entity is of a wicked heart, given to the fallibilities of lustful abandon, treacherous betrayal, and jealous retribution. The fallacies that are inherent in its nature are without the offset of any traits that would give it an advantage over the other beings of Cybertron. The Autobot is less intelligent than the Quintesson, less enduring than Lithonians, and lesser of strength than even the weakest of Decepticons. Yet despite this apparent disadvantage, the Autobot Republic has flourished for time beyond measure. Perhaps it is a testament to the tenacity of this curious breed of Cybertronian or, more likely, it is because this particular species spawns like organics. Strength of numbers can be a formidable advantage to have. Yet still, it is just as likely that the endorsement of the Primes gave the Viishni (**Scribe note: The dialect of Cybertronian from which this word originates has no direct translation in its current form. From the context in which it is used, the word appears to mean lesser ones**) great pause.

Primes: the very word leaves a foul taste in my mouth. Even the most far-flung depths of the Republic have been infected with their malignant and stagnant breath of justice and controlled entropy. Their speech is grandeur, filled with allusions to a utopia of paradise. Indeed, one could almost believe in the veracity of their claims if for Iacon alone. The illustrious city of the Council of Elders, it has received a peculiar attention from the Primes. Flush with Elder Sparks (**Scribe note: The elder sparks referred to within the text would appear to be synonymous with items similar to the Autobot Creation Matrix**) and energon groves, it has become the culmination of technology within Cybertron. Yet beyond these shallow trappings, beyond the gold-trussed walls of the City of Elders, utopia does not seem so imminent. It is here that the prodigality of the Autobot Republic becomes apparent.

The Autobot's failings and troubles, like the raging sandstorms of Char, flare up in temperamental bursts and squabbles. The inherent mutability of the Autobot condition is evident in the deterioration of this republic. Those who call Cybertron their home, given to scheming and plotting, can seldom be depended upon to put forth any sort of united front and rely on the strength of their combiner teams. The Autobots of Terra, their lands flush with riches and energon, are too consumed with their own wealth and hedonistic pursuits. The remaining portions of the Republic, lesser for their locations, are caught up amidst the strife and turmoil that they themselves are responsible for generating. Those of their dominion, the organics and Neutrals, are left to lap up scraps, remnants of the bickering between the nations of Cybertron and beggars at the table of the Autobots.

Our master knew this, as surely as he knew Unicron's gaze is eternal. The Primes, with their own archaic sense of duty and purpose, condemned the Republic to a slow decline. It was destined for decay the moment it succumbed to the lure of their promises. And so the stage was set for our master's rise to glory. My kindred and I celebrated his coming as the culmination of an Age and the beginning of a new millennium, shedding the withering vestiges of a bygone era. But in crossing a new threshold, we have lost much of what has come before. Though unfortunate in its necessity, the purifying wrath that has cleansed the lands of the Autobot weakness has also left us without history and while I do not hold fast to any regrets, for truly I have become more than I had ever dared dream, it is a heavy burden to know that the past has been consumed. For all its atrophy, the void that it has left is not something easily filled.

Thus my purpose has come to fruition. In the cleansing light of the strength and vigor of Galvatron, it is my desire to preserve a small remnant of that which came before. A record of the history of the Autobot Republic, such as it is, given to print so that my brethren and our descendents will not succumb to the follies of their ancestors. The lost knowledge of a stagnant nation can be a truly powerful tool for those with the guile to use it.

The beginnings of the Republic were without flourish. The explosion of Autobots, their rapid production cycle outpacing even the virulence of the organics, gave them claim to the lands of Cybertron. In its beginnings, the city-states of the Autobots competed with each other for advantage and territorial feuds were not uncommon. Many generations of Cybertronians knew little that was unrelated to conflict. These years of warfare, inevitably fueled by the Autobot's peculiar penchant for pointless animosity, were years of technological advancements and allowed the race to survive amongst the intellectually superior Quintessons and Decepticons. Indeed, it was these very advancements that allowed them to ascend to the forefront of the peoples of Cybertron. For truly, without the innovations that brought about the establishment of Vector Sigma, the Autobot race would not have achieved the heights it has.

But the bickering between the cities served to provide their competitors with a short-term edge and council was called to determine an end to the feuding. The resolution determined from this meeting was the establishment of a united front. A coalition of Autobots was established; a collection of city-states and nations with which they would push back and subjugate their enemies. Unlike the Decepticon race, who seemed unable to put aside their enmity and petty bickerings, the Autobots found themselves willing to resolve the centuries of animosity. Unlike the Quintesson planets, the Autobots were able to find compromise in their goals. It was these traits that allowed these fractured city-states to unite against their foes and firmly entrench themselves within the histories of Cybertron.

The success of their forays against the Quintessons emboldened these fragile Autobots. What had been conceived as a temporary alliance was reforged into a more lasting and enduring cooperation between the various factions of Autobots. Each of the greatest eight factions were apportioned a particular domain, to preside over as that faction felt justified. These wars for domination culminated in the ascension of Autobots as a race without peer. Those Viishni that were not decimated or enslaved found themselves scattered to the very fringes of the galaxy, scurrying into the depths and darkness of the stars. Aeons of racial cleansing had come to an end. With its competition for resources subjugated and its self-destructive disposition for internal conflict suppressed, Cybertron was able to finally pursue more intellectual expansions.

The technology that had spawned the combiner teams, a term coined for those creatures that were used as brutally efficient tools of destruction by the Autobot intellect, were refocused in the eras that followed. The scientific elite, for I was among these select few, were called upon by the rulers of the Autobot nations to establish magnificent cities from which they could preside over their planets. The greatest of these was Crystal City, Citadel of the Primes. It was the zenith of our achievement and represented a collaboration of the greatest and most powerful scientists within the Republic. Sparkling towers adorned its skyline, rising to ever evolving heights while luminous crystalline bridges spanned the distance of the city, criss-crossing in continuous and increasingly complicated spirals the farther from the ground they rose. Groves of lanturin trees, imported from off-world and bathed in their native atmospheres, adorned the landscape around the city and a crown of energon novas sprawled within its center. Even now this city, with its delicate ramparts and pristine spires, remains seared into my nightmares.

Suffused with the adoration of the masses and the fear-tinged respect of the Autobot Primes, my brothers and I came to revel in our majesty. The nature of our work was such that the weak and simple-minded were winnowed out and the casual practitioner was quickly consumed by his own dabblings. Only those with the intellect and the mental fortitude to withstand the deluge of torrential energies were able to rise in ability and prestige. And so it was natural for my kind to congregate towards each other, basking in our own glories. Adopting the duality of the moons of Cybertron as our emblem, we formed a ritualistic cabal with which we hoped to further explore the boundaries of our understandings. For the next several million years we expanded our awareness and skills until we became like gods. And this is where the fist ideological divisions appeared. While every one of us sought power of a sort, there was a discordance of opinion on how we should manage such power. Some of us, myself included, sought only knowledge and personal enlightenment and cared little for the practical applications of our technology. Others felt that our knowledge and abilities should be used in accordance with the traditions of old and to the benefit of the Republic. Still others cared little for tradition and sought only the ultimate realization of our potential, regardless of the cost to the Republic. Some even suggested that we assume control over it. After all, what race could stand against us if we remained united in our pursuits?

And so our coterie became sundered. Those that felt their duty to the Republic approached the great Council of Elders and spoke of treachery and mutinous murmurs. What was left of our cabal knew with great certainty that our time as godlings was waning and if we had any fortunes for the future we must disappear for a time. For myself, while I did not hold to many of the goals of my kindred, I had no desire to remain and be leashed as one might a favored pet. And so I joined them in their self-imposed exile. As our cabal had become divided with discord, so too was the emblem of our kind rent in two. The serpents of the Republic, for a time, kept the purity of the Elder Moon. But even they could not endure the hypocrisy of such blasphemy and eventually it fell out of favor. In contrast, the Eye of the Daughter, as we had come to be called, held fast to the blood moon as the symbol of our strength and fury. It emboldened us and gave us comfort and succor in the darkened years to follow.

For many Ages following, my brothers and sisters and I languished in the shadows. It was during this time that our bitterness and animus turned our thoughts towards the darker side of our technology. While such avenues to power unleashed energies greater than we had previously known, they also came at great price. The gale forces that assaulted our bodies caused them to age and deteriorate. If left to their own meager and insufficient functions, our bodies would quickly be reduced to rust and ashes. It was during these forays that Megatron, the one of our brethren that had risen to the position of leadership, discovered that it was possible to draw the energies required to sustain us during our studies from a source other than ourselves. Fueled with these energies, the fragility of our bodies remained untouched while the source of the energies was entirely consumed during this process. Infused with an insatiable hunger for vengeance, Megatron became reckless in his machinations. Though tactically and strategically brilliant, his daring assaults were often questioned and resulted in many casualties. Though unquestionably brilliant, none gave him much hope for a long future and indeed, it was after one of his ill-conceived forays that we found him vanished. With his disappearance, our collective leadership was reduced to seven. Among us, Shockwave established himself as the unquestionable leader and it was through his machinations that the demise of the Republic was begun.

For while we had diminished in respect to our authority and influence, the serpents of the Republic had flourished beyond measure. Great Primes they had become, beings of great power and energy, and through them the Elders of the Republic presumed their command. The Republic itself found a sort of consolidated prosperity in these years. The number of nations that formed council at Iacon had dwindled to four, though these that remained retained yet an iron grip on their dominion. On Terra, the Protectobots ensured that the Autobots never fell from power. But that planet had fallen to the ancient ways of inter-faction strife and little that was productive was ever put forth, despite an abundance of natural resources. On Lithone, the Autobots that dwelt amongst the valleys at the base of the Shalindral Mountains seemed, of all the nations of the Republic, the most humane and inclined to tolerate the Viishni. The Cybertronian city-state of Vos, weakest of the four nations, was the most active participant at the Council. The remaining nation, bordering the Southern Basin of Cybertron, had become the most powerful within the Republic. Yet the very wealth and power that had elevated it above the rest of the Republic had also brought tremendous decadence to the peoples that called Crystal City home. Their lands, flush with the immensity of energon, were lush beyond reckoning and in their arrogance they paid little heed to those that did not fall within the boundaries of their carefully crafted reality. Not even those among their own people were immune to their indifference.

That such grandeur was accorded to a race that had become so drunk on its own superiority filled the Eye with rage unlike anything it had known since its inception. Particular animosity bubbled within Overlord and Scorponok, for among the Primes were those they had once considered friends. United with the Primes, the Republic was impervious to even our extensive abilities. Separately, however, each one was vulnerable. So the beginnings of our attempt to undermine the relationship between the Council of Elders and the Primes were laid that day, not long after Megatron had disappeared.

No direct action could be taken by us, for though it had been several centuries since we had exercised our personas in public, our link to the Primes remained personal. Those that were once so intimate with us would be quick to notice any overt attempts to undermine them. Pawns, then, were the answer. Our years in hiding had already given us an established presence in the underworld of the Republic. We had simply to expand our web and flush out those that would best suit our purposes. To infiltrate the graces of the Council, our tools must be charismatic and intelligent, but malleable to our will. It was a rare combination to be found and, much to our surprise, it was Dirge that brought them to us. Quiet and obsequious, he proved the most adept at luring out the most duplicitous of our race. With no question, they proved to be precisely what we had envisioned. Charismatic and unquestionably intelligent, they nonetheless were possessed of an overwhelming greed that left them compliant to our will. If even one were to achieve his goals, our plans would be true.

Lured with the proper promises of untold power, controlled through hints of glory, and manipulated through gifts of energon (with some having been bound to us through energon-bonding technology), these creatures inserted themselves into the governments of the Republic and through the years they worked to gain the confidence and trust of the rulers of the nations. The city-states of Vos and Iacon proved most troublesome, for of the nations of the Republic they were the most dutiful and several of our agents were lost to their gallows. Even the Terrans were difficult to manipulate for there was little that they could agree on long enough to set aside their squabbles for. Eventually it became clear to us that our efforts must be solely funneled through Crystal City, for that city-state had grown fat and complacent in its wealth.

Within years we had throughout the bureaucracy of Crystal City's government established agents that had ingrained themselves within the very fabric of the hierarchy. Little was decided within that nation that did not first pass through our cabal. We began slowly, for we had no desire to attract unnecessary attention to our endeavors. The occasional shipment of energon or alloy was deviated, many times meeting an unfortunate fate at the hands of marauders. Documents pertaining to other nations were lost or went unsigned. Territorial disputes flared up on a more regular basis. The Viishni within Crystal City, Neutrals for the most part, found their lives filled suddenly with hardships beyond their comprehension. All of this, while innocuous enough on the surface, served to stir dissention between the nations of the Republic. For many centuries we proceeded like this, for time meant little to us anymore. Slowly, we watched our infection slowly corrupt the Republic, causing it to rot away from within.

And then Megatron returned, or at least an aspect of him did. For what came back to us was not what had left us. He had changed, in appearance as well as demeanor. His Cybertronian component had begun to fade, that was apparent to all of us. His features had become less pronounced and more smooth in appearance and his gait was that of a being aware of his own considerable limitations. And how enthusiastically we welcomed him back into our fold for we had been but a semblance of our former selves with him absent. We all felt renewed purpose stir within us at his return, even if it was mingled with a minor bit of trepidation at his altered demeanor. All of us save Shockwave, who seemed to feel Megatron's return a threat to his established domain.

Most discouraging to our small family was how aware Megatron appeared to be of our purposes during his absence. For truly, if he had discovered our designs as he appeared to have then how much likelier was it that the Primes knew as well? But Megatron gave us solace with his reassurances and spoke of the glorious battles he had fought. When our fears had settled and our hopes had once again begun to rise, Megatron spoke of powers untold if we would but swear to him. In retrospect, I am able to break down how easily he had manipulated our emotional turmoil to suit his whims. But I can find no animosity towards him, for his gift was a truly amazing bequeathment of evolutionary power. Our boasts of godhood were born that day.

Megatron had already grown beyond our abilities, yet he spoke of power greater than even he commanded. Such power required great sacrifice and he would require a sizeable amount of life energies. Should we assist him, he would bestow upon us a portion of his power. Should we deny him his ascension, he would remove us as obstacles to his destiny. It was with great love and affection that we bound ourselves in service to him. All of us, including Shockwave, understood the potential to be gained from such an agreement.

Our current movements to subvert the workings of the Republic were filled with potential, but we had moved too slowly and timidly. We had to act boldly and with great daring, Megatron explained. He gathered more agents to our cause and set them out into the populace of all the nations of the Republic, fomenting resentment of the Primes and focusing the responsibilities for the Republic's plights solely upon them. Within several years, Megatron's vision had begun to come to fruition. Open anger and frustration with the Primes was felt across the Republic. Even the Viishni, who typically kept their opinions silent, spoke up against the great serpents.

It was then that we made the final stroke of our Ages long vendetta against the Primes and their empire. Our agents within the topmost levels of Crystal City whispered words of animosity to the rulers of that nation regarding the serpents. They counciled these great elders to banish the Primes from the Council of Elders, speaking to their pride and vanity. What use had such beings of these creatures that were not of their people? True to their imperious natures, these elders encouraged the Council to break from their relationship with the Primes and as the undisputed leaders of the Republic's most powerful nation, they called the matter to a vote. To our delight, the Council's decision to abandon their cooperation with the Primes was near-unanimous, with only the Iaconians voting in favor of the continued alliance.

Events moved quickly after that, even for ones as long lived as we. With little support amongst the Republic, the Primes withdrew into themselves and without their endorsement the Republic's unity crumbled. Open warfare broke out between the city-states of Vos and Iacon and the Terran Autobots became embroiled in an internal struggle with their organic population. As for the government of Crystal City, with the void of the Primes presence fresh in the minds of this people, the Eye of the Daughter moved quickly to consolidate our grip on power. Wielding open power the natives had never before been exposed to, Megatron and the Eye slew the entirety of the ruling class and we established ourselves as the de facto regents of that nation.

In preparation for his ascension, Megatron kept himself in seclusion and the seven of us gathered up the Viishni from across the lands of our territory and brought them northward to Crystal City, promising them a voice in the new Empire. As expected, the grandest city of former Autobot Republic swelled with the presence of these creatures and when they had all been brought before us and the Grand Arena of Games was filled with their chorus, Megatron emerged. His demeanor had once again been transformed and he paced now with a tangible hunger as he approached the Balcony of Transcendence. He spoke to those assembled before him of power and of their proper place in the destinies of Cybertron. With a promise to them that he would give them the opportunity to reshape Cybertron, he turned to my brethren and I. Charging us with the task of preparing the nations of the Republic for his arrival, he opened a vast gateway before us and told us to enter. With tremendous awe and not the smallest bit of trepidation, the seven of us nodded our acquiescence and entered the gateway.

We found ourselves within the bowels of a planet-like being that called himself Unicron, standing within a grand valley so eerily similar to the surface of Cybertron. No sooner had we gathered ourselves together than the ground beneath us was wracked with a tremendous shaking and from around us arose a deafening clap of thunder. With great curiosity we turned towards the source of this disturbance and beheld our home planet of Cybertron in the distant sky, a gathering storm the likes of which we had never before been party to spreading across its surface. With great fear, we gave our sparks to Unicron and to his Dragon, Galvatron. It was not then, but much later, that we learned the true nature of the storm. The price of our master's ascension was the life of the Viishni population and, when they had been consumed, he turned his wrath and hunger on Crystal City itself. Nothing remains of that which was once the prize of the Republic except for a barren, lifeless crater. With Crystal City crushed beneath his heel, our master turned his vengeance upon the decadence of Cybertron. Flush with power, he consumed the lifeforce of those lands and left in his wake a desolate and arid wasteland.

It was then that he came to us, swollen with the life and energy of Cybertron, and had us kneel. To each of us, he gave a portion of Unicron's essence. It is beyond the capacity of language to describe the incredible vitality that coursed through my veins. As I pulsed with the vibrancy of Unicron, I could feel my awareness expanding. With tears of joy, I bowed in humble adoration and proclaimed the glories of Galvatron, the Dragon of Unicron.

As those great serpents of the Republic had evolved, so too had he. His essence was like none I had before known, standing at a tremendous height. He paced before us, eyes ablaze with crackling fury, and bequeathed the planets of Cybertron to us. As we had fulfilled our part of the agreement, so too would he fulfill his. Together, we made our way to the planet of Terra and there we met the Autobots and their leader, Ultra Magnus, on the Plains of America. With little surprise, the Autobot Commander was slain by his own Terran minions and Galvatron was proclaimed as the Lord of Cybertron. For four million years we governed the lands as Galvatron's regents, spreading our vengeance across the Planets of the Republic. The glories of the Unicron-spawn can be heard in the whispers of mothers to their children and in the hushed curses of drunken warriors.

There were those of us, however, that could not appreciate the benevolence that had been shown to us. Starscream, his rage unquenched, rebelled and rose up against our master and, as one might swat at a kank-fly, Galvatron destroyed his physical essence and banished him to the void. That such a one among us would be so easily dismissed was not lost on those of us that remained and our master faced no more challenges to his authority. For four million years he reigned from the city-state of Darkmount, with his thralls as his warriors and priests.

Thus we stand here today, the remaining six Unicron-spawn ruling the planets of the Decepticon Empire in our master's name. The end of the time of the Autobot Republic, heralded by the glorious eruption of our master, has leveled the planescape of Cybertron for eternity. The pristine spires of Iacon have been shattered into so many prisms of unbearable color and finally consented to yield to his majestral power. The Lord of Chaos, master of this realm, has ascended to his proper throne. Long live the rule of Galvatron!

But the threads of fate are narrow and delicate, as given to change as a Terran's fancy and just as quickly as he had appeared, our master left the realms of Cybertron. Scourge has speculated that the serpents had thought to return and that our master had left to meet them in battle. Others, Cyclonus and Soundwave among them, felt that he had discovered newer and more potent sources to fuel his power. In truth, I am inclined to agree with Scourge for if he had needed more fuel, the bounties of the Terra lay within his grasp. And yet they remain untouched. I await his return with eagerness and trepidation.

In truth I hold to no regrets, for the virulence that infected the lands of Cybertron has been seared away. But the cost of the cure is high and with the precipitous fall of the Republic, much of Cybertron's achievements have been lost to the whimsical fancies of time. Scourge has said that I should not mourn what has been lost, that there is little of worth to be had in the past. For myself, I would do well to weep. It were no virtue, but great discourtesy, if I did not mourn for Cybertron's salvation.

- In this Barani, the 32nd Day of the Descending Sun

In the glorious name of the Lord of Chaos,

Suhr, Servant of Galvatron and Spawn of Unicron