Deep in the infinite black, at the precipice of uncharted space, lies the planet Cybertron. The existence of this mechanical world and it's unique robotic inhabitants were known to but a small few races in the cosmos, and only in the form of old stories that had long since been distorted into myths over countless generations, at that. But there was a time, in an age long ago, when the Cybertronians held a much greater presence in the galaxy.
They first came in great ships, spreading out from their homeworld to seek new worlds on which their expanding population could thrive. In a flash of light, they could turn the planets they found suitable for their needs into metal. Many feared the Cybertronians for this power, worried that they intended to burn away all organic life to make way for their own. These fears were quickly assuaged, however, as the mechanoids extended the hand of friendship, sharing their advanced technologies and using their mighty weapons to defend otherwise helpless races form conquerors like the five-faced Quintessons.
Then the Cybertronians turned their weapons on themselves, burning the colonies they had created from orbit with their own warships. Whether they were fighting a civil war or were culling their numbers to solve a population crisis would never be known, but he conflict was brief. The Cybertronians soon healed their wounds, rebuilt their cities and resumed their role as shepherds for the less-advanced races of the galaxy, though they never quite regained their full power and majesty. Nonetheless, the Cybertronian species was still looked upon as a model which all societies strove to emulate.
They people of Cybertron once again turned against one another, in a war many times more devastating than the one before it. One side sought to subjugate the "lesser" organic species, believing themselves to be their destined masters. The other fought to oppose them, believing freedom to be the right of all sentient beings. Like a plague, their battles spread out from their republic and infected the whole of the galaxy. Entire races were lost in the crossfire, and others suffered lasting damage to their civilizations that many still have yet to recover from.
The victory of the armies of liberty was bittersweet, for in their fierce battle they had devastated the galaxy they had fought to protect from oppression. The people who had once seen the Cybertronians as protectors now scorned and shunned them as the cause for all their woes. The Cybertronians helped to mend what they could, then retreated into what remained of their secluded republic, cutting themselves off from the rest of the galaxy in a vow to never again bring it's people anguish.
Twenty million years have passed since, with nothing being heard from the people of Cybertron; they either continued their war and destroyed themselves, or they have made good on the promise they made so long ago. Once renowned and respected across the stars, the Cybertronians have become little more than a tale whispered around the fire. Their current status is unknown, but many stories are told in hushed tones within taverns and spaceports across the galaxy: stories of a small collection of gleaming metal worlds; covered in majestic cities of monolithic, golden towers inhabited by mechanoids who cherish peace, freedom, and the innate benevolence of sentient life...
The sun was just beginning to rise over the great city of Iacon, bathing the Cybertronian capitol's many levels and massive, elegant buildings in it's orange morning light. Hecate, the Seething Moon, could be seen setting in the west, it's swath of glowing blue hot spots illuminating it's titian surface. Transformers of every kind, hailing from every world in the Commonwealth, roamed the streets. Today marked the anniversary of the Decepticons' defeat and the subsequent end of the Great War, and it was tradition throughout Cybertronian space to travel to Iacon to celebrate. The day was just beginning, and there was no telling what it held in store...