On many worlds across the galaxy, curious
structures have been found carved of black-hued stone, the forgotten remnants of some long
dead race. This is hardly unusual, and they are noted
without much excitement among countless other ruins left by countless other races. Occasionally, expeditions will be sent to
learn their secrets, and hidden entrances uncovered to vast complexes located far beneath
a planet’s surface. Sometimes these parties return with exotic
trinkets or half-believed tales. Sometimes, they do not return at all. Few across the galaxy recognize these sites
for what they truly are, and the threat they represent. Fewer still might know how it came to be that
one of the first races to set forth blindy into a galaxy of darkness, would be damned
for eternity, transformed into a tortured race of soulless constructs, known as the
Necrons. Neither the gods nor galaxy were kind to the
Necrontyr. Millions of years before humanity evolved
to sentience, in an ancient formation of stars on the outer edge of the galaxy, they raised
their civilization under the torturous light of a blighted sun. Endlessly scoured by piercing solar winds
and terrible radiation, the lives of the Necrontyr were short and uncertain. Their bodies were consumed by agonizing cancers
and constant illness. Their existence was defined by overwhelming
loss and grief. Cities were built in honor of the dead and
the living who wandered their streets relegated to brief caretakers of vast sepulchres and
ornate tombs. Driven by the desperate hope that they might
free themselves from the cruel maladies of their sun, the Necrontyr set out to carve
an interstellar empire. Bereft of psychic powers, the Necrontyr were
unable to pierce the Immaterium and instead relied upon slow moving torch ships carrying
enormous stasis crypts. Though arduously slow to realize their dream,
the Necrontyr were able to colonize much of the galaxy. Tragically however, they could not rid themselves
of their physical frailty, for even on rich, unspoiled worlds, the curse of their homeworld
left them withered and short-lived. It was a terrible irony then, that of the
few other civilizations present in the galaxy, they should encounter the beings known as
the “Old Ones”. Ancient even to the Necontyr, the Old Ones
had long since conquered the burden of mortality and now were gifted with eternal life. Yet it was a gift they refused to share and
the entire Necontyr race was left to fester in jealousy and resentment. The unity that had propelled them into space
was shattered and competing Necrontyr Dynasties warred with one another, in a conflict that
threatened to destroy their entire race. Had these “Wars of Succession” been allowed
to continue, the Necrontyr might have been yet another footnote in galactic history,
a civilization that rose, burned brightly and briefly, only to be extinguished. But the Triarch, the ruling council of three
that governed the Necrontyr race, realized that an only an external enemy had the power
to reunite the Dynasties and revive the spirit of their civilization. The choice was obvious, only the Old Ones
presented a credible threat, and the jealousy and resentment of the Necrontyr had been kindled
into a burning rage. Secessionist Dynasties were offered amnesty,
the Necontyr reunited under the rule of the Triarch and armies and fleets were sent to
fight a war they could not win. In contrast to the Necontyr, the Old Ones
were the masters of the Immaterium. Through the use of Warp Gates and the extra-dimensional
Webway, they constantly outmaneuvered the plodding forces of the Necontyr. Despite their superior technology, they were
little more than an irritation to the Old Ones and faced with an invincible enemy, the
Dynasties fell back into civil war among themselves. Having only accelerated the complete collapse
of their rule, the Triarch again searched for salvation. Competing accounts differ on how the Necontur
first encountered the C’Tan. Some claim they were discovered in the heart
of a dying star, while others say that the burning hatred the Necontyr held for the Old
Ones acted as a type of beacon. Regardless, the power of the C’Tan was incalculable. Beings of incredible, raw energy, the C’Tan
dwarfed entire worlds, their consciousness too vast to even comprehend. That the Necontyr could even communicate with
them was a miracle, and the oldest Dynasties actively courted their favor. Through an eldritch type of living metal,
the incorporeal forms of the C’Tan were gifted bodies to inhabit in the physical realm. Thus clad, their consciousness and power was
focused, and they soon came to delight in the pleasures available within the material
universe. One such C’Tan, acting as a forerunner to
the coming of his brothers, appeared before the Triarch. It claimed it and it’s kind, like the Necontyr,
had fought a war against the Old Ones, a war they had lost and now were hidden across the
galaxy, eagerly awaiting allies who might help bring that ancient race to account. It promised the Necontyr everything they had
wanted, unity, power, and most importantly, the secret of immorality. With the pact between the Necontyr and the
C’Tan sealed, the star gods revealed the form that immortality would take. Enormous bio-furnaces were constructed and
roared through the days and nights. What arcane procedures took place within are
best forgotten, but while it was the people of the Necontyr Race who entered them, it
was something else entirely that emerged. In place of diseased and frail bodies, came
shells of living metal and the awful truth of the pact made clear. Through their transformation, the Nectontyr
race had perished, stripped not only of their flesh, but of their souls. Yet while the price had been steep, every
promise made by the C’Tan was fulfilled. Clad in armor that only the most terrible
injuries could destroy, the newly born Necron race and their C’Tan allies wrought a terrible
vengeance upon the Old Ones. Even as their last strongholds were broken
and even as the Webway was penetrated and invaded, the Triarch had realized the deception
played upon their own people. Where they had once feasted on the energy
of stars, now the C’Tan feasted upon living souls. The star gods had gorged themselves on the
Necontyr and brought to the galaxy a war of such horror that even the victors would find
no triumph. In an act of perfectly calculated betrayal,
the Necrons waited until the Old Ones had been wiped out, and then turned on the C’Tan
in their moment of victory. Weakened and arrogant as the result of their
long struggle, the C’Tan were shattered by the unimaginable energies of the living
universe, focused into weapons too mighty for even the Star Gods to endure. While the C’Tan were a part of a fundamental
fabric of reality, and therefore impossible to destroy completely, their shattered forms
were bound within thousands of smaller fragments, scattered across the galaxy so they might
never reform. The C’Tan had been shattered, but the time
of the Necrons was over. The cost to their civilization had been immense
and powerful psychic entities, unleashed during the wars against the Old Ones, threatened
to scour the galaxy. Younger races, created by the Old Ones to
aid in their war, were also rising, with the wrath of the Aeldari in particular, impossible
for Necrons to stand against. The Silent King, first among the Triarch and
the only member of that council who survived betrayin g the C’tan, gave one final order. His people were commanded to sleep, to wait
for a time in which even the great power of the Aeldari had withered and the Necrons might
return to rule the galaxy. With this order fulfilled, the Silent King
vanished, fleeing into the intergalactic void, seeking solace or penance for the terrible
suffering he had inflicted upon his people. On countless worlds, the skeletal constructs
of the Necrons lay dormant. They slumbered through the aeons, as the galaxy
healed from the wounds wrought during the war against the Old Ones, and new civilizations
rose to fill the void left by their demise. But time wounded the Necrons in ways even
their ancient enemies could not. Shifting tectonic plates crushed Necron strongholds
on untold planets, stars went supernova, consuming tomb worlds in their death throes, and everywhere,
primitive races fought over the scraps of Necron territories. Even Tomb Worlds left untouched have felt
the decay of time. Cascading failures in stasis-crypts destroyed
billions of dormant Necrons while others have been afflicted by a slow madness that threatens
to override their original programming. Even the last order of the Silent King has
not been precisely followed. The Great Awakening of the Necron race has
not occurred in unison, but in fitful starts across the millenia. Errors in circuits and protocols have enacted
the revivification of Tomb Worlds far earlier than intended, with some said to have stirred
in time to see the Great Crusade of the Emperor of Mankind, the cataclysm of the Horus Heresy
or the endless wars of the Age of the Imperium. While many have risen, most, lay dormant still. The first skeletal machines encountered by
the younger races were misidentified either as mindless constructs, another trivial xenos
race on par with the Hrud or Kroot, or most curiously, as Chaos Androids constructed by
an extinct sub-species of ab-humans. Of all the great powers in the galaxy, only
the remnants of the Aeldari understand the full nature of the Necron civilization. All Necrons, regardless of their rank or station,
have had their flesh replaced with necrodermis. This living metal possesses the extraordinary
ability to regenerate damage nearly instantaneously, flowing back together as if a liquid to repair
even the largest gashes or tears. Given enough time, even the most terribly
damaged Necron constructs can be repaired, or its consciousness transferred to a new
body. Only a select few Necron constructs however,
possess a consciousness in the way the Imperium or the other races of the galaxy might understand
it. The transformation of the Necontyr race stripped
the intellect, self-awareness and personality from all but the most strong-willed. These individuals, often the leaders or elite
of Necrontyr society were given the very finest necrodermis bodies, but even they are pale
shadows of their former selves. The professional soldiery were given comparatively
crude bodies, while the common citizen received whatever remained. These tortured creatures are numb to all joy
and experience, bound solely to the will of their masters, and requiring constant direction
to fulfill their purpose. Even so, a tiny-spark of their mortal selves
remain, just enough to torment them with memories and echoes. During the time of the Necrontyr, their civilization
embraced a rigid hierarchy. While split between various Dynasties, all
were ultimately subject to the will of the Triarchy, a council of three Phaerons, the
greatest and most powerful leaders of their race. The head of this council was known as the
Silent King, for he never addressed his subjects directly, but rather through the Phaerons
who ruled alongside him. The short life span of the Necrontyr ensured
that members from many Dynasties were represented within the Triarch or held the position of
Silent King itself. Following their biotransference, the hierarchy
of the Necontur became absolute within the Necrons. Completely subservient to the will of the
Silent King, even the Phaerons were forced to follow his directives through command protocols
embedded in every Necron mind. So ashamed by his failures however, the last
Silent King severed these protocols upon his withdrawal from the galaxy, and ultimate authority
has been split across the various dynasties that remain. Phaerons, and other ranks of Necron Overlords
have awoken to find themselves free of the Silent King and able to pursue their own agendas. Combined with aberrations in their programming
that leave some Overlords struck by madness, the actions of the Necorn race are eclectic
almost to the point of randomness. The Necron Lords of some dynasties display
a splendid adherence to honorable conduct, sending forth emissaries and diplomats. On the battlefield they adhere to the spectacle
of honorable war, rigorously applying their ancient codes of battle. Other Dynasties have embraced treachery and
terror, utilizing psychological warfare, deception, and assassination. More still focus their attention inwards,
pursuing the systematic extermination of any lifeforms who interfere with their affairs. While these acts are extraordinarily diverse
in their extent and method, all are directed towards a single common goal, the restoration
of the Necron Dynasties to rule over the galaxy. Yet with the Tirarch long destroyed, most
Tomb Worlds still dormant and others inflicted with madness, there can be no grand strategy. Each Tomb Lord pursues whatever course he
deems most suited to circumstance. Some have sought to dominate nearby threats
and sow terror on alien worlds, others have stockpiled raw materials, or prioritized the
recovery of cultural treasures or artifacts. A few have even begun the search for organic
species whose bodies might be suitable vessels to reverse the curse of biotransference and
bring about the return of the mortal Necontyr. When committed to battle, the Necrons typically
strike with little warning. A Necron lord will have a great variety of
forces at his command, but will typically rely only on soldiers known simply as “warriors”
or “immortals” which made up the ancient armies of the Necrontyr. Lynchguard, Deathmarks, and Praetorians, are
used more sparingly, while the largest Necron constructs are reserved for wars of annihilation
and vast interstellar campaigns. Their highly advanced technology means that
their armies typically need only march forward, and an overwhelming, inexorable advance has
become synonymous with the Necrons themselves. Despite this, they are more than capable of
more nuanced tactics when necessary, and there exist a variety of Necron constructs capable
of infiltration or rapid maneuver. But the Necrons greatest advantage in combat
remains their near indestructible necrodermis bodies. In the rare instances in which their armies
have been destroyed, or the tide of battle has turned against them, every Necron construct
has simply disappeared from the battlefield, phase shifting to some other place or reality
so that they might repair their wounds only to remerge once more. The method by which the Necrons achieve this
remains unknown. They likely retain some access to the Webway,
forcing their way into the ancient labyrinth through the use of eldritch portals known
as “Dolmen Gates”. Necron starships have also been occasionally
sighted, but never in great numbers. Whether the Necron fleet did not survive their
long slumber intact, or the have the means to conceal their movements, likewise remains
unknown. To the Imperium of Man and the other great
powers of the galaxy, the Necrons remain a shrouded presence. Terrible when roused to battle and cryptic
in their actions, but hardly a major presence. With the Fall of Cadia, and the spread of
the Great Rift across the galaxy, there are precious few resources to devote to the search
of rumoured Tomb Worlds or the mysteries of some long dead race. But as the Time of Ending begins across the
Galaxy, it is becoming harder and harder to ignore that Tomb Worlds are beginning to awaken
at an ever increasing rate. Certain patterns are starting to emerge, evidence
that the power of the ancient Necron Empire is beyond even what the Aeldari remember. As the great hive tendrils of the Tyranids
sweep across the galaxy, it has been noted that even they avoid specific worlds. On Mars, an entire region has been quarantined,
ostensibly due to some ancient contamination, but in truth because a fearful entity dwells
beneath it, a so-called “Dragon of Mars”. And despite the rampant spread of the Ruinous
Powers and other warp-spawned horrors, there are curious places in the galaxy where even
the overwhelming howls of the warp have been silenced, places where the silence is far
worse than the screams. Some have even claimed that the stars themselves
whisper of the Silent King. That its exile is over and it walks among
the Dynasties once more. If the Great Awakening is finally at hand,
then the remnants of the Aeldari, the vast host of the Imperium, the Ork hordes and Tyranid
Hive Mind, even the God of Chaos themselves, might finally learn that for all their fearsome
power, this galaxy was never truly theirs. That they are merely trespassers, whose time,
is finally... over. Oh wonderful, I was concerned I might have
missed you. Please allow me to express my fulsome appreciation
for your ...investigation, as you call it. Thoroughly researched and well spoken, delightful
from beginning to end. A few errors here and there, ...a few omissions. I had hoped that I or my collection might
warrant inclusion ...but you make cuts for time, I entirely understand. I am something of a seeker into mystery myself,
and I feel a sense of ...professional courtesy to inform you that the presence of your Institute
has not gone unnoticed here. You are watched by some of whom you are already
aware… and by others of which you are not. It is so rare to find those who might appreciate
my work and would be such a shame to see you become an agent of disorder. Until then, feel free to visit anytime, there
is always a place for you here.
