“Ah, Klotophis. Good to see you back on your…” Farreskh glanced down at the mass of metallic tendrils that comprised the lower half of the Chronomancer. “…whatever you call those things.”
Klotophis inclined his head in a humble gesture of greeting. “Greetings, Lady Farreskh. I am very well recovered, thank you.” There was a large dent in his faceplate that the nanoscarabs had not beat out yet, twisting his mouth into a sneer. Farreskh suspected he may have left it there on purpose. “Might I enquire as to the whereabouts of His Majesty the Phaeron?”
Farreskh waved a hand. “He left, again.” There was a hint of bitterness to her voice. During the last battle there had been a brief moment of connection between the two of them, but it had ended almost as soon as the bloodshed had ceased. The King now appeared to be avoiding her. “I tried to engage him on matters of strategy but he seems more intent on butchering the human peasants. So, I have drawn up plans myself.” She conjured a field of holographic glyphs in the air. “There is an enemy column moving towards us. We march east to this valley and wait in ambush. You will deploy on the northern slope…”
“Yes, yes. I thank you for your diligent and perspicacious recommendations, Your Majesty. However I must remind you that your position as Queen Consort, while most, uh, esteemed, does not in fact grant you any military authority in this instance. Present or not the Phaeron still has operational control over his armies and, as his… attention is required elsewhere the duty falls to me, as the duly appointed representative of His Majesty’s will, to dictate strategy. That is the protocol.”
“My apologies, noble Chronomancer. I know how seriously you have always taken protocol. Please, continue. I eagerly await the benefit of your great strategic expertise.”
“Well, uh…” The Cryptek studied the hovering glyph map. His features blurred slightly as he accelerated his local timeframe to buy more thinking time.
The blurring stopped. “As it happens,” he declared, archly, “it is my determination that the best course of action is to march to the eastern valley and set an ambush.”
“Ah. Well. Great strategic expertise, just as I said.”
***
“FOR THE EMPEROR!”
A fresh wave of golden-armoured warriors crashed against the Lychguard shield-wall, which buckled but did not break. Silently and with mechanical efficiency the hyperphase blades of the Necrons rose and fell, again and again.
At first Farreskh had assumed these gold-and-blue armoured Space Marines to be the same as the blue-and-gold armoured Space Marines they had fought last time, but there were subtle differences she was coming to see. These ‘Celestial Lions’ had less ornamentation to their armour, bearing the aquila of the Imperium rather than the octet of Chaos. These had flesh and blood underneath their armour and not just dust. These worshipped a warp-god called ‘The Emperor’ rather than the warp-god ‘Tzeentch’ – something they felt the need to proclaim loudly whenever combat was joined.
The northern flank where they stood seemed to be the focus of the human assault. Farreskh suspected that Klotophis had foreseen this when he chose to station her and her retinue here – largely because that was exactly what she had intended to do to him.
To her right a group of Flayed Ones were tearing apart an Astartes champion that had charged in a bit too eagerly. There was the crack of displaced air as marines teleported in behind their lines, swarming over and bringing down a Necron war machine. A second squad half-materialised for a second before their crude warp-based technology malfunctioned and they were whisked away with a daemonic howl.
Necron losses so far had been minimal, but there seemed no end to the numbers of gold-clad warriors willing to throw themselves on the phase blades of her Lychguard. Every member of her retinue had gone down and been restored at least once. The signs of hasty self-repair were starting to show; sparks flew, coolant dripped. The cuts and thrusts and parries that had once flowed smoothly together were now jerky chops and hacks. She was having to draw power from a nearby Starstele just to keep them – and herself – operational.
The ground beneath their metal feet was slick with blood. Without meaning to, they had built their own barricade of flesh and broken ceramite. Farreskh felt her nonexistent stomach turn at the sight. Yet… there was something there… the way the blood glistened…
She tore her eyes away, looked up to see a fresh golden column advancing through the smoke and the ruins towards them. She hefted her scythe.
“Come, then, you sons of honourless dogs,” she hissed. “I can do this for aeons.”
+Nachmund Gauntlet Strike Force Crusade Battle+
Mission: The Gauntlet
Forces: Necrons (Awakened Dynasty) vs Celestial Lions (as Black Templars)
Result: 6:5 to Necrons at the end of Round 3, but as we ran out of time we agreed to call it a draw.
Victory Pointless 
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