“They’re our allies for the foreseeable future,” came Farseer Aramën’s thoughts telepathically through to Exarch Sarinah, the various spirits residing within him becoming conflicting voices over the meaning of the message as a host of Necron Warriors appeared in a flash of green in front of his Dire Avengers. As an Exarch of the Fallen Sun Dire Avenger Shrine, Sarinah’s being was comprised of the souls of each Exarch that had worn the armour, his body forfeit to the greater collaboration of spirits collected in the Spirit Stones on his royal blue armour and right now, most of them were screaming for his finger to pull the trigger on his wrist mounted shuriken catapults.
Having been sworn enemies of the Necrons since before the conception of the paths of the warrior, the only thing stopping him from ordering his warriors to fire into the backs of the metallic constructs was his trust in Aramën. Her guidance and foresight had saved the lives of his warriors more times than he could ever repay her for – but she had never asked anything so bold as to trust a Necron before.
As he stood poised for battle, his time for contemplation was diminishing, the Tyranid’s were closing in and his squad was looking to him for guidance. Turning his head to look at the Eldar that would blindly follow him into battle he caught the eye of Eldaneer, an Exarch of the Howling Banshees, as she nodded to him. She then raised her double bladed executioner above her head, spurring her warriors into a frenzy as they regained their combat stature, ready to charge into battle at a moments notice. Following her lead, Sarinah raised one hand above his head as he ran forwards to join the line of Necrons in front of him, his warriors rushing after him and plugging the gaps that the thinly spread line had left.
Arriving just as the beasts came within range of their weapons, the quiet whisper of his shuriken catapults was drowned out by the surging gauss weaponry that the Necrons employed. Their green lightning stripping flesh from the mass of bodies as the monomolecular disks fired from the Eldar tore through the Tyranids lightly armoured hide.
The surging advance was slowed, almost halted by such numbers of mixed weaponry as thousands died and were crushed underfoot of the next wave; the cycle repeating itself as though they were fighting against an infinite foe, their loss of number meaning nothing to the synaptic creatures.
Taking a moment to glance at the battlefield, Sarinah could see the mix of blue and yellow with silver and red as the two rival factions stood side by side, weapons blazing at full capacity at a common foe, a sight that he had never expected to see during his millennia of lives. Parts of him were disgusted whilst other voices were in awe of what was happening as further along the line, the bone coloured figures of the Howling Banshees used the Necron’s strong, sturdy, metallic bodies as a launch pad. Summersaulting high into the air to crash, head height, into the taller more armoured Tyranids that were breaking through the small arms fire, only to meet their end to blazing power swords that carved their way through carapace, flesh and bone.
Turning back to the wall of bodies in front of him, Sarinah lost himself in the beauty of battle, slaying monster after monster as he used the hulking and resilient forms of the Necrons as an unbreakable wall whist the Howling Banshees carved their way past anything that broke through, allowing him to pause and reload and check on his squad – he barely even noticed the crazed Necron Lord lead a spearhead into the midst of the Tyranids, a squad of Lychguard tailing him deep into the enemy lines.
Hama wasn’t sure what to think as he unloaded another deadly payload of rockets from his reaper launcher into the biological mass in front of him. Being so difficult to miss his target he fortunately found himself with plenty of time to comprehend what was going to come next.
With the Necron artillery adding to that of the Eldar and Humans, the mass of bodies further in was thinning as the Tyranids at the forefront crashed against the defensive line, like water breaking against a damn. He estimated that it wouldn’t be too long before this battle would be won, but how long would it take for the archaic device aboard the Hive to recharge and bring the broken bodies to life once more? In either case they were fast approaching the time to pull back and leave this planet to the Tyranids. Hama’s concern was with what the Necrons would do. Would they leave, shoot them in the back or, if these Necrons were looking to save the planet, would they stay and fight to the bitter end?
As if on cue a Necron Deathmark appeared out of nowhere as he stepped out next to Hama, causing him to stop firing and raise his blade in a defensive stance. Deathmarks were well known snipers who could use tears between dimensions to slip quietly and untraceably into position to eliminate their targets. Letting go of the trigger of his rifle, the Deathmark raised a hand in a gesture of peace.
“I come in peace Eldar, with a message from Overlord Záakesh,” the Deathmark spoke, Hama only just managing to hear its metallic voice over the sound of battle. Leaving his guard up, he allowed the Deathmark to continue. “When these beasts are put down, we are to return to our ship. Once this has occurred Záakesh would like to speak to your leaders about the next move,” the Deathmark continued, unmoved by Hama’s stance.
Grateful for the news but still expecting a there to be an ulterior motive in the Deathmark’s arrival, Hama nodded in agreement to which the Deathmark seemed to start looking past Hama and raised his rifle, firing a round past Hama’s head and into a large winged creature. Turning to see the body falling straight towards the pair, Hama rolled to one side as the headless corpse crashed harmlessly into the floor. Looking around in surprise but wanting to thank the Necron, he found himself stood alone.