Anchor Point

Flux Anchors

Two ancient structures rest at the poles of planet Ascendus. The massive devices utilize an ancient Necron terraforming method, breathing life into long dead celestial objects. A thick Osmium Alloyed shell helps dissipate reactionary heat and protect the intricate quantum system within. By harnessing abundant internal energy, these Flux Anchors maintain rhythmic planetary motion, normalize terrestrial surface temperatures, and preserve the delicate polarity fields sustaining the atmosphere on Ascendus. However, the timeworn mechanisms require an immense power reservoir.

The Chronos is a dying star. Time, energy, and mass are distorted and amplified as the being edges closer to demise. The flux field between the anchors resists the stellar collapse, drawing out the catastrophic explosion into one concentrated energy stream. The Chronos is ceaselessly tortured as one agonizing moment is stretched ad infinitum. Bit by bit, the Chronos’ energy is slowly siphoned away. In the 7 Million years which Sentry has defended the Star God Chronos, a mere 0.43% of the entity’s power has been depleted. An incredibly efficient engine, the Flux Anchor system is among the oldest and most significant of all Necrontyr technological advancements.


A Call to Arms
Nephros had barely left his chambers when a crippling pain erupted in Sentry’s mind. A failsafe set in place millennia ago had torn through derelict synaptic matter, burning with urgency. The southern Flux Anchor was in jeopardy. Sentry staggered to his feet, fumbling forward in hurried momentum. He had to act quickly. He sprinted through the tomb hangar, waking the arks and powering the barges. He flew through the destroyer tomb, resurrecting the sleeping giants. Finally he made his way to the Guardian Temple, resting place of the Pariahs. These elite warriors were specially chosen by Sentry before his exile. Vowing allegiance, the devoted Lychguard elected to be banished with their master. Sentry lovingly named these 10 champions “Pariahs” for their dutiful sacrifice. Their Service would now be required to defeat the entropic fiends of Chaos before the balance of the planet shifts out of control.

Flanked by silent skimmer tanks, the Pariahs had formed a small phalanx. Sentry stood at the foot of the megalithic anchors, each buzzing with concentrated energy harvested from within. With mechanical sight, he saw them coming. Miles in the distance hungry tanks dozed through thick sands, sluggishly advancing through the unfavorable terrain. Hellish bikes kicked up thick clouds of dust that had remained undisturbed for millennia.

The enemy was now close enough to lock eyes with Sentry’s forces. As the sun began to set, rays of scattered light danced over the Ghost Ark’s living metal hulls. Against the amber backdrop of dusk, a glorious battle was about to unfold. Sentry held his scythe high and urged his warriors forward, maintaining a hard front line. His barricade would not yield without great resistance.

Without warning, a shriek pierced the air from the left flank. Grand Cryptek Oshast had unleashed an Eldritch lance from within the metal ribs of his Ghost Ark. Immediately, the targeted enemy Rhino erupted into a flash of hot ash.

Confused and enraged, the forces of chaos charged into battle.

From behind the calamity, a Vindicator let loose a bellowing blast. Arcing over the battlefield, Sentry watched in horrified slow motion as the projectile collided with one of the Flux Anchor spires. A concussive wave resonated from the base as the pillar crumbled. Intense heat poured out of fresh cracks in the ground. The Device was becoming unstable.

Sentry peered out at the tank in the distance. He would not let another shot like that get through. Transmitting wirelessly across the planet, he called in an air strike. Within seconds a Doom Scythe screamed to the target, carving a bright line of destruction across the back field. The beam sawed through two of the enemy tanks with ease, granting Sentry a temporary upper hand in the fight.

He quickened his blows, slicing through chaos tinged flesh with furious vigor. One by one, bodies fell in muddled heaps. Out of the back ranks, a beast sheathed in iron pounced. The ground trembled in the landing. In one great swing, Lord Cyron’s chaotic axe cleaved through one of the remaining anchor pillars. The ground heaved upward in protest. Geysers of steaming air punched through the soil like searing fingers. One last pillar remained. From atop his ironclad mount, Cyron smiled with psychotic delight. Glinting in the muted sunlight, his axe came down upon Sentry’s head.

The blow sent his heels digging into the dirt as he struggled to stay upright. While his thick tempered hide had absorbed the impact, small cracks began to form. Blow by blow, Sentry’s armor withstood the wicked trauma. While his body took the brunt of the attack, his mind retreated inward calculating the odds of victory. Sentry knew what had to be done. He dropped to the ground and rolled into an open fissure. Flames plumed skyward as his body sank like a stone through the bubbling molten material within. Driven by blind hatred and chaotic divinity, the enemy was too strong. He devised a plan. The Anchor would be lost.

As Sentry’s presence left the battlefield, his army began to phase out. One by one, the metal warriors retreated, sinking into the dust.

From the sky, a cluster of demonic terminators struck down on the planet’s surface. They had landed right next to their target, the last of the Anchor pillars. With no one around to stop them, the terminators opened fire at the remaining spire.

As its hulking mass came crashing down, the ground rose up to meet it. Waves of fluid energy pulsed frantically through the strata, writhing in unnatural swells. Cyron stood among the carnage and began to laugh.

Portal Ambush

The Return
By the time Nephros arrived, Sentry's searing glow had subsided. Small lines of white smoke still sizzled from his armor. His chest plate settled back into its tight fit. Nephros bowed deeply as he entered Sentry's presence.

“I've analyzed your transmission.” Sentry spoke quietly.

“The enemy has been silenced.” Nephros’ eyes remained fixed on the floor before him.

“I am fully aware. However, silent enemies cannot tell you their secrets. Silence is dangerous.” Wisps of remnant steam rippled through the air as he turned with lightning speed. In one fluid motion, Sentry bridged the gap between them as Nephros’ neck succumbed to his masters iron grip.

“Your victory was hastily obtained.” Sentry’s burning iron fingers clenched down on Nephros’ throat. “Tell me, how did you benefit from this encounter? What did you learn of your enemy by slaughtering them outright? How can you witness your opponents tactics when you cut them down before you open your eyes! To throw away such advantageous circumstance is shameful. Have I taught you nothing?” Sentry’s scowl dissolved into disappointment as his grasp released. “We do not kill for pleasure. If there is nothing to gain, we do not risk our resources.”

Hissing and wheezing through damaged vocal coils, Nephros regained his composure.

“My lord,” He paused, deep in thought, “I’ve shamefully endangered the lives of my brethren for a futile victory. I accept full responsibility for my actions. Deal with me as you see fit.”

“Nephros, it is statistically unfavorable for me to grant you another chance,” His words quivered with regret, “But I am not known to adhere to formulas and protocol. I will offer you one more chance, Nephros. If you fail me this time I cannot grant you the same liberty twice. Fortunately, you allotted enough time for one of them to signal back to their outpost. I've traced the coordinates and I want you to lead an offensive. Infiltrate the source and discover any and all information you can obtain. Do not let on that this is your intent. I do not yet know how the enemy would respond to such actions.”

“I do not wish to trouble you with trivial gratitude, but know that I will not forget your benevolence this day.” Nephros stood tall with a renewed sense of obedience. “I was foolish to forget my duties as a guardian. The acquisition of foreign knowledge is vital to our operation. I will see to it that we fully understand these alien beings such that we can eradicate every last intruder. The Chronos will be defended at all costs.”

“Remember,” Sentry’s eyes glared with furious intent. “Knowledge over victory.”


Ambush
They had found the Dark Eldar encampment. Just ahead of them, a patrol squad of heavily equipped scouts zoomed by. In the distance, an armored tower rose up from the dust. Snipers and other infantry lined the walls while some walked the perimeter of the wall below. Something seemed odd to Nephros as he looked out at the tower. The tower was not large enough to house all of the troops that flooded its walls. There were no storage buildings or hangars for ships. Then, on the vast field in front of the tower, a strange crackle of purple energy ripped through the air. From the tear, a body emerged, then another. In a matter of seconds, an entire platoon of Dark Eldar warriors had emerged from seemingly nowhere. It appeared that these mysterious beings had access to portal technology. This was no ordinary troop barracks, it was a relay hub. Nephros watched in awe at the foreign technology. This portal field was soon to be the grounds of a bloody battle. As the separated patrol party made its second round, Nephros and his warriors charged the field.

From across the field, the dark elder scouts spotted the advancing horde of automatons. Readying the splinter cannons and charging the dark lances, the Dark Eldar scouts took aim.

Suddenly aware of the impending attack, snipers took aim and warriors found their positions in the tower. Nephros knew they would not willingly surrender their secrets.

The first dark lance pierced through the air, shredding through the force field on the foremost Necron annihilation barge. Almost instantly, the vessel erupted in a cloud of dense smoke. The first blow had been struck.

Lashing out from behind an advancing ghost ark, a pack of bloodthirsty wraiths dashed up the field. The insectoid bodies slithered weightless of invisible currents, quickly closing the gap between them and the Dark Eldar scouts. Their writhing bodies phased through waves of enemy fire, each shot passing through them as they moved in on their prey. The scouts retreated to the tower, laying down covering fire as they backed away from the ravenous machine beasts.

All around them, the air cracked with chaotic energy. The field was alive with the warp. Small tears flashed and vanished in an instant. Nephros began to wonder if shots were piercing the void from another dimension. Perhaps the Dark Eldar had reinforcements miles or even light years away. Through the heated fog of battle, Nephros found his mind wandering at the possibilities. Sentry’s words echoed clearly through his synaptic coils, “Knowledge over victory.”

In a flash, Nephros and his retinue of immortal soldiers disappeared from the battlefield only to phase into battle a few yards downfield. They landed in the path of a cruising Venom and without thought, Nephros unleashed his staff of light upon it. A beam of brilliant white light radiated from his staff, halting the vehicle in its tracks.

Simultaneously down field, a beam of darkness pierced the sturdy hull of a friendly Ghost ark, shredding it at the molecular level, leaving nothing but a pool of liquid metal. The embarked warriors ducked low in the puddle, narrowly avoiding the same fate.

All across the field hell fire rained down as vehicles erupted and mangled bodies were thrown from the wreckage. Nephros and his soldiers were now covered in the thick warm blood of their enemies. Nephros marched forward, expressionless, as bullets gunned down his entire unit. He emerged alone, eyes transfixed on his target. Ahead of him, a Dark Eldar soldier fought off oncoming necron fire with his back to Nephros. Slowly but with conviction, Nephros approached the trooper, towering in silence behind him. Suddenly cast in shadow, the warrior turned in fear. With panicked rage, he swung at the iron giant. Before the blow could find its target, the machine’s cold eyes went dark and his mass collapsed on the field in a heap of clunking metal.

The battle had ended. In the wake of victory, the Dark Eldar rounded up their casualties and took the remaining Necron troops as prisoner. They approached Nephros’ body with caution. His body still emitted heat, despite no other sign of apparent life. Nephros listened from within as his body was bound and boarded on a passing slave ship. The Dark Eldar secrets would be revealed in due time. There was nothing left to do but wait.

The Chamber

Truth gives light to science. From science comes discovery and through discovery, all things are possible. These are basic Necron fundamentals, a lust for knowledge hardwired into every Necron being. The Nexus, a shared database from which all Necrons derive their knowledge of the physical world, hasn't seen an update in nearly 500 years. It was recently calculated that 98.7% of all possible empirical knowledge had already been explored and recorded in the Nexus. New findings are rare in this age, but not absent. The true origins of the foreign invaders which now threaten Ascendus do not register in the Necron records. This lack of information now plagues the Nexus and the individual Necron minds of those who tap into it. Who are these unknown intruders? What corner of the galaxy have they traveled from and from which beasts have they evolved? While the first few battles have revealed some of the enemy intentions, many questions are still left maddeningly unanswered. Driven by a thirst for knowledge, the Necrons rise for a cause much greater than victory. Their minds will continue to ponder aimlessly until solutions can be found.

Deep beneath the crust of Ascendus where temperatures soar far greater than any mortal could fathom, one such mind solemnly wanders. In this underworld, Sentry drifts weightless through a molten ocean of volcanic slag. He is hidden away from the noise of war and the burden of his sworn duty. White hot magma surrounds him in a warm embrace, flowing endlessly over his metallic frame. Sentry can feel his form expanding, warping and weakening his plating. In this state, Sentry is vulnerable. He prepares his battle plans, gathering all known information on his enemy and referencing previous battles recorded in the Nexus. He discovers that while one descends from an ancient race of elves, the other has branched from a humanoid race corrupted by the dimensional warp. Sentry knows that he must approach with caution. The Nexus registers a broad array of war tactics used by both entities, making it difficult to predict their next move. These hostile forces may prove harder to exterminate than Sentry had previously thought. He determines that it would be wise to avoid encountering both forces at the same time again if possible. Without completely understanding the minds of his enemies, it will be difficult to ensure victory.

As he surfaces from the volcanic chamber, his body hisses and pops in protest. His armor plating begins to harden as it cools, tempering the metal. With each venture he makes into the depths, his alloyed flesh becomes harder and stronger. He emerges with a strengthened mind and body, and perhaps most importantly, a battle plan.

When the Dust Has Settled

Wind ripped through the valley of rust in hard gusts. A minor sandstorm had followed the small Necron scout party, concealing their presence. Through sand dunes piled thick with time, Nephros led his warriors through the fog. As Sentry’s field tactician, It was his sworn duty to enter into unknown circumstances such that Sentry can better understand his opponents. Fearless and silent, Nephros and his scout squad trudged onward through the endless crimson grains. Their sensors had registered a harsh organic energy spike ahead. The erratic heat signatures indicated that these beings were already in the midst of a hurried battle. It was time. At Nephros’ will, the haze withdrew, revealing the unknown intruders.

The two forces rushed the field, sprinting towards a glinting object positioned between them. It was soon apparent that this chance deposit of Phylite was the prize for both parties. From the east, puffs of red sand plumed outward mirroring the sweeps and dodges of the Dark Eldar Jetbikes, weaving between them in a fragile dance of death. Blind fury drove them onward, charging into the oncoming chaotic marauders. From the west, deafening blasts ripped through flaming exhaust pipes. On steeds forged of iron, the unholy forces of Chaos charged fearlessly into the fray. Through a fog tinged with hatred, the Scouts of Lord Cyron’s Oathbreakers descended upon their prize, with every intention of slaughter and victory. However, battles based purely on raw bloodlust seldom go as planned. Over the dunes surrounding the valley, shots burning with rampant energy pierced the tense air. Nephros had arrived to put an end to this petty squabble and reclaim Sentry’s land.

Pushing deeper towards the Phylite, both parties rallied their remaining forces to focus on the common threat at hand. One by one the enemy fell to waves of piercing gauss fire. The ambush was a success.

It takes but a moment for the dust to clear over scarlet pools of organic matter. Bodies and burning wreckage litter the Valley of Rust, sending plumes of white smoke billowing to the sky. Silence floods the valley once more. 2 enemy squads down and not a single Necron casualty. Nephros stands proudly over the smoking ruin of a Dark Eldar vehicle. Sentry will be pleased.

Yet in the wake, airwaves crackle with signals, tiny transmissions of unknown data through the void. The surrounding white noise is too loud and too regular for Nephros to ignore. There are more forces where these few came from. Pinpointing the source of the transmissions, Nephros relays the message back to the catacomb fortress. For now, they must reconvene and wake additional reinforcements… a bigger battle lies ahead.

Mission 1: Origins of War

Origins of war

Ascendus, Jewel of the Icarus. An ancient battlefield where muffled cries of eons long dead still echo through vast canyons. It is here that 3 forces will clash and the history of time itself will be written. In a small clearing to the north, a rogue company of Dark Eldar known as the Mourning Mantids have set up a makeshift base. Their scans have revealed recent deposits of valuable Phylite on the planet's surface, which they've been utilizing to fuel increasingly devious genetic experiments. Grateful to this forgotten star system for cradling the origins of their people, the Mantids live symbiotically with the ecosystem. Despite their nefarious intentions, ancient blood ties to the planet have rendered their presence practically invisible to Necron sensors. However, small ripples soon turn to waves. With the increasing entropy of their dark experiments, it is only a matter of time before their corruption is noticed. A landscape once dormant now pulses with nervous energy. The age of stability is now gone and turmoil will soon sweep in to take its place.

A Chance Encounter

Kicking up clouds of red sand, a small Dark Eldar scout party shrieks toward a blip on the radar. Their destination is a fresh impact crater at the heart of an expansive desert known as the Valley of Rust. In this desolate wasteland, crimson sands stretch from no particular beginning toward no particular end. The Mantids can sense that this is a place where time itself has stopped. With each mile, trekking further into the dunes, the air around them grows warmer. Motes of red dust begin to dance, following their movements and flowing like waves through the sand before them. Racing ahead, the sand begins to swell and burst in erratic movements as the radar ticks become louder and more frequent. Just over the next ridge, the horizon burns in a lake of flame. Huge craters dot the landscape where fragments of a massive meteor have been strewn like small pebbles. The Mantids, whose eyes have evolved to spot detail at great distance, have already seen their target. Scattered among the burning debris, tiny specks of  exposed Phylite shimmer from within their metallic tomb. However, extraction of the Mineral will require finesse. The shattered Meteorite lies as the center of a violent debris field. The impact and subsequent inferno has generated a thick haze in the sky above their heads. Over the havoc, a low drone can be heard, slowly increasing in volume with each passing second. Panicked, the Mantids look on, scanning the fog for signs of its origins. Something is approaching from just beyond the limits of visibility. Squinting harder to see beyond the abyss, all eyes focus skyward. With a blast of sonic energy, a monstrous dark vessel booms through the void. Heat lightning arcs from its wicked hull. Chaos has arrived.

Quantum Disturbance
Something has changed. Originating from the barren lands known as the Valley of Rust, two distinct beacons have been detected, disrupting the steady slumber of Sentry's Defiant. The signals are foreign, yet underlain with a hint of the familiar. One of unknown origin writhes with unmatched anger. The other, a variation on an ancient power, teaming with hatred and disgust. Malevolence of this magnitude has never before been documented in the Necron annals of time. Apparent localized electromagnetic disruption readings and planetary thermo-regulatory sensors seem to indicate that these foreign invaders come with immense sense of purpose. They do not wish to slaughter and consume as the primitive Iron Tide had. These intruders are after something much more. After thousands of years, waiting beneath ancient debris, perhaps an opposition worthy of Sentry's presence had finally approached. As the dust fell from his metal figure, Sentry lifted himself from his tomb. While they did not yet know it, the invaders were about to confront one of the most infamous legends in Necron lore. Sentry would send his scouts to investigate and upon their return, devise a plot to banish the intruders from his domain.

A Second Chance
The abrupt planetary unrest has not been without immediate consequence. Like twisting knives, the imprisoned Chronus has directly suffered the transformation occuring within his realm. With each new wave of corruption, hatred ripples and twists his cage. Reality is becoming increasingly unstable. Small energy fluctuations have already begun to surge over extinct iron bones. Left unchecked, these interactions have the potential to distort time altogether, bringing forth new adaptations of old adversaries. Perhaps it is only a matter of time before the Iron Tide feeds again...

The Mission

Capture the Flag

2 Attacking Forces must attempt to retrieve a singular flag from the center of the board and return it to their deployment zone. 1 Defending Force must attempt to destroy both attacking forces. Only one unit may be in possession of the flag at any given time. The flag is surrendered if the unit in possession of it is wiped out or forced to flee. The flag must be in coherency with a unit to be captured. The flag may not enter vehicles or fortifications.

Win Conditions

Attacking Force: Successful transportation of the flag into his deployment zone.

Defending Force: Complete annihilation of all Attacking forces on the field.

The Battlefield

The Valley of Rust is a relatively open plain with only small obstructions and area terrain dotting the landscape. Recent planetary disturbance has made this area particularly prone to Dust storms which can strike unexpectedly and last for minutes or even days.

Deployment

Both Attacking Forces will set up using Hammer and Anvil deployment (page 119). Beginning turn 2, the Defending Force will arrive automatically via reserve from either table edge (determined by a roll of 4+ on a d6).

Special Rules

Cumbersome: Any unit in possession of the flag may move no more than 6 inches in any phase. This also applies to the flag itself.

Tactical Positioning (Dark Eldar): Dark Eldar forces get a +1 modifier when rolling for first turn, signifying their advantageous positioning on the battlefield before confrontation. Initiative can still be seized on a 6+.

Into the Fray! (Chaos Marines): If the Chaos Marine force loses the roll for first turn and fails to seize the initiative, 1 Chaos Space Marine infantry unit may gain the Scout special rule (pg 41).

Dust Devils: Before the game, roll for night fighting as usual. All models suffer the night fighting penalties, regardless of special rules or abilities that specify otherwise. Dense clouds of dust have hindered sight drastically. Due to the granular nature of the storm, even the keenest eyes cannot cut through the clouds.

Reinforcements (Necrons): If the entire Necron force is reduced to 20% of its starting point value (100 points), they are immediately removed from play and a second 500 point force of Tyranids may infiltreate or outflank onto the battlefield immediately from reserve. The Chronus' Volatile nature has brought back an extinct company of Tyranids. Raging with confused hunger, they consume all in sight.

Army Composition
Necrons: 500 points. No HQ slot, but 1 Lord from a Royal Court allowed. 500 points of Tyranid reinforcements.
Dark Eldar: 500 points. No HQ.
Chaos Marines: 500 points. No HQ.

Oh Icarus, How You Have Fallen...

Yesterday, I tapped into my very limited Photoshop resources to construct a more accurate depiction of my ideas.I plan on improving my Photoshop skills throughout the campaign, so this was a good exercise. I present to you the 3 currently known planets of The Icarus Gate.

Ascendus

The Necron tomb world, resting place of The Chronus, emits a yellow glow due to large deposits of sulfur within the crust. A thin layer of sulfurous gas traps residual heat and solar energy from distant stars, allowing it to maintain moderate temperatures despite existing in the much darker and colder end of the galaxy. Despite the yellow tinge, the atmosphere on Ascendus is not much different than that of the fabled "Earth", consisting mainly of Nitrogen and oxygen. Thick roaming clouds of Sulfur Dioxide are common within the weather patterns of the planet.

Aonith

The blue radiance of this tiny planet can only be attributed to the large quantity of Ice covering the majority of its surface. The relatively thin atmosphere yields very little meteorological activity and temperatures can drop to as low as 94 Kelvin in the planet's darker regions. The lack of any significant weather patterns has earned Aonith the nickname "The Silent Maiden" among ancient Eldar lore. While conditions may not be favorable, the abundant supply of easily accessible water has made Aonith a surprisingly hospitable celestial body.

Baregale

Once a calm and beautiful landscape, Baregale now stands a shadow of its former glory. Brought on by tremendous tectonic disturbance over many millenia, the planet now writhes in a chaotic mess of seismic activity and powerful dust storms. Super heated by strong reactions at its unstable core, the atmosphere on Baregale has been deemed the closest thing to a living Hell in the known universe. Seen as a metaphor of chaotic corruption, the stark contrast between the sister planets Aonith and Baregale have become the basis of some Eldar mythology and spiritual practices.

New Beginnings

The Icarus Gate

In the time of the ancient Necrons, the Trazyn Dynasty ruled the greater half of an old star system known as The Icarus Gate. The gate served as an outpost, strategically positioned between 2 warring planets, Aonith and Baregale. The Icarus Gate was to be the perimeter barrier between these warring planets and the Necron Tomb Worlds deep within the galaxy.

Aonith

Aonith was home to an ancient Eldar race. Colonized for its resources, Aonith had once served as a main fueling hub for local mining operations. However, since the mining resources had been considered exhausted, Aonith had lost much of the traffic that supported it. Without the mining industry, Aonith was converted to a tactical outpost, housing mostly reserve troops for the larger Eldar forces. The planet now functioned as a storage depot while retaining fuel stocks and supplies for the occasional scout ships.

Phylite

Baregale was a previously abandoned planet void of any significant life but rich in the element Phylite, a rare heavy metal byproduct of supernova reactions. Normally destroyed in the intense heat of a stellar explosion, Phylite can sometimes be found intact after rare cataclysmic events known as "Cold Clouds." A "Cold Cloud" is formed when a star partially implodes, creating a pseudo black hole at its core. Most of the star matter is consumed within the void. The reaction is so powerful that heat is instantaneously sapped

from the explosion, resulting in a supercooled cloud of condensed gases and flash frozen particulate matter. While most of the Phylite produced by this reaction is cast into the void, small traces escape and are thrown about the galaxy. The element is greatly sought after  for its energy potential and universal scarcity. It is considered among the most valuable substances in existence. Though not fully understood at the time of its discovery, Phylite has made its way into various history books. It is mentioned that High Eldar Farseer Eldrad Ulthran wielded a staff inset with Phylite runes, which some argue were the source of his immense psychic power. Small Phylite mines had been constructed on the surface of Baregale, but abandoned once the Eldar had deemed the valuable resource exhausted.

The Hunger

Drawn by the tiny energy fluctuations of Phylite still left under the planets shell, a small brood of Tyranids from Hive Fleet Ferrous touched down on the planet and began consuming what little deposits still remained. The infamous "Iron Tide", as Hive Fleet Ferrous had come to be known, had consumed countless planets in their search for heavy metals and rare minerals. Over centuries of evolution, their genetic code had been rewritten with some of the properties of these elements. Their skin became cracked and brittle, but their chitinous outer shells had become hearty and strong, reinforced with the metals they had consumed. They hungered now for diverse flavor, and their mouths watered at the promise of the rare element.

From the Dust

The consumption of Baregale had left the planet devastated. Dust plumed miles into the atmosphere as the beasts dug and eroded the terrain. As they began to tunnel, the soils had broken loose, casting large pieces of the planets crust into space. The planet began to lose its orb-like qualities and quickly became a frail twisted silhouette in the night sky. The Eldar, in tune with celestial activity, began to sense that something was wrong. A scouting platoon was sent to investigate the disturbance. Touching down on the planet, they could feel the vibrations of activity within, but could not see anything from the surface. Confused, the platoon decided it would return to Aonith and call for an investigative team to determine the cause of the planet's blight. They set off from Baregale shrouded in an intense dust storm, making navigation difficult. However, while they flew blind through the storm, a beady watchful eye had been scanning and observing. The Eldar had wandered into the spider web and the Tyranids were not going to let a meal get away.

Invasion

By the time the scout party had noticed their stalkers, it was too late. The Tyranid force had caught the scent of the Eldar occupation on Aonith and moved in for the strike. The surprise attack left the Eldar overwhelmed and outgunned. Tyranids tore through their command posts and disabled communication with nearby fleets. They were alone. There would be no aid. With no further hope, the remaining Eldar forces fled the planet. They escaped through a furious swell of writhing Tyranid bodies. The bugs were distracted, having cracked open the doors of the supply depot, and paid little mind to the escaping colony of Eldar. The tyranids swept the planet clean leaving behind only a few untouched storage bays and the useless fuel stocks. The bugs had evolved beyond simple hydrocarbons and found no use in the remaining fuel supply. The Tyranids eventually left Aonith, setting their sights on a new planet, which emitted a psychic signature unlike any the brood had ever sensed. Unbeknownst to them, their curiosity would lead them to the first Necron outpost within The Icarus Gate.

Sentry

Beneath the planet's surface, ancient metal bones rested. This was the tomb of the mythic Necron Warlord Sentry and his unstoppable force, known in ancient tongues as "The Defiant". This elite group of Necrons are renowned in Necron lore for their rough nature and tactical prowess. It is the traditional Necron way to approach issues with logic and reason. Sentry, however, was programmed slightly different. He rose up the ranks of Necron Lordship through trickery and unpredictability often overriding command protocols to confuse and overwhelm his opponents. Despite his battle prowess, the inability of the Necron people to comprehend the workings of Sentry's mind labeled him a threat and an outcast. A new dilemma arose: what was to become of the General who was both hero and pariah? Sentry was given an honorable discharge, pulled from Necron society and  forced to live for a higher purpose. He was banished to the holiest of Necron Tomb Worlds, eternally bound to defend the rest of the Necrontyr.

The Awakening

Sentry's Defiant were trusted with the sole purpose of protecting the most sacred of Necron artifacts, the Chronus. Buried deep within the planet's core, the Chronus was kept safe by Sentry's forces. When the first Tyranid claw met the planets surface, the ancient eyes of Tomb Lord Sentry were opened. Slowly, the general rose to once again defend his curse. The ensuing battle lasted for hundreds of years after countless waves of Tyranid forces had swarmed the Tomb World. In the end, Sentry and his Defiant had slain the beasts whose iron shelled corpses became buried deep within the dust. When the last of the Iron Tide fell to his blade, Sentry looked out among the battle field, uttering the first and only words he had spoken in a thousand years. "Strange," He hung his head low, "they fight with the same persistence as us, yet we strike them down. At the very core, we are just as they. In the end, both our kind have hearts of iron."

The Present

Since The Great War, Sentry has been slumbering in a timeless sleep, brought on by the very artifact which he protects. The Chronus projects an illusion ridding the Necrons of the concept of time, creating a barrier somewhere between self aware and self consumed. Without time to worry them, the Necrons have been able to experience complete focus. Were the Chronus to fall, the perception of time for all Necrons would be stretched to infinity. They would no longer know peace of mind as their world would be consumed by iterative calculations, bringing with them only pain and sorrow. The Chronus bears the weight of time so that no entity in the universe has to fully endure the agony of an infinite existence. Their ignorance is the only thing keeping them sane.