Hey, what's up? This is Edgar Phillips Reitman, and I'm here to do you a favor: prose-rock the shit out of your literature-deprived brain hole. That's what! This is how we do...
In a world known as Dark Sun... the sun blazes high and hot over a broken down freighter, melting the shipment of ice carried by a motley crew of ice pirates. They call themselves Frosty Thunder but nothing frosty nor thunderous was happening on Athas this hot-as-balls day. Just a bunch of scruffy dudes watching their ice melt.
Suddenly, a Cylon raider screams through the sky overhead. Lasers blast those pirate bastards to smithereens. Only one of them is left alive; he wears a black eye-patch and is scruffier than the rest of his companions lying next to him in a bloody heap.
"What the fuck?" The sole ice pirate exclaims.
The Cylon ship lands. Several metallic dudes get out, carrying laser rifles with their red eye going back and forth - cause these guys are old school.
"Take us to your leader." One of the Cylons says.
"I don't have a leader. I'm a pirate. I steal and smuggle ice back and forth from Athas to a bunch of other worlds. In any case, fuck you!"
Without warning, a gigantic purple worm erupts from the sand... killing everyone.