Obsidian Reach and Naogeddon
Kha'resh Mek stood on the command deck of his flagship, the "Phaeron's Will," his impassive gaze fixed on the hololith displays before him. The screens showed a tapestry of destruction and conquest as his Overlords swept through the last remnants of the Rangdan and Slaught systems. It was a symphony of annihilation, conducted by the finest warriors in his dynasty.
Overlord Amenhotep's forces, the Fist of Anuket, smashed through the outer defenses of the system with brutal efficiency. Their aggressive tactics left nothing but debris and broken enemies in their wake. Kha'resh noted with approval the controlled fury of Amenhotep's assault - the Overlord had learned to temper his aggression with strategy over the millennia.
Meanwhile, Overlord Nephthys and her Shadow of Khepri struck from unexpected vectors, materializing from the void to deliver crushing blows before fading away again. Their hit-and-run tactics sowed confusion and terror among the enemy ranks, disrupting any attempts at a coordinated defense.
Overlord Imhotep's Architect's Vengeance moved with clockwork precision, each ship and warrior performing their role with flawless timing. Kha'resh could see the complex calculations behind every maneuver, a testament to Imhotep's unparalleled mastery of logistics and planning.
The Void Weaver's Snare, under the command of Overlord Sekhet, wove an intricate web of destruction around key strategic points in the system. Enemy reinforcements found themselves cut off, isolated, and systematically destroyed by Sekhet's carefully orchestrated trap.
And then there was Overlord Nefertari with her Eternal Resurgence. Kha'resh watched her forces with particular interest, noting how they adapted and changed tactics with each engagement. It was impressive, he had to admit, even if he still harbored reservations about her approach.
As the battle neared its climax, all five Overlords converged on the final planetary system - the last bastion of the Rangdan and Slaught. Kha'resh leaned forward slightly, curious to see how his chosen lieutenants would coordinate for this final assault.
But before any of them could make their move, something unexpected happened.
A massive, emerald beam lanced out from the darkness of space, enveloping the entire planet. For a moment, reality itself seemed to warp and twist. When the light faded, the planet was gone - vanished as if it had never existed.
Kha'resh's eyes narrowed. He recognized that energy signature. A slow, rumbling chuckle escaped him, a sound that would have sent chills down the spine of any living being that heard it.
"Trazyn," he murmured, a note of amused exasperation in his metallic voice.
As if on cue, a new vessel shimmered into existence before the assembled Necron fleet. It was an elegantly crafted ship, its hull adorned with glyphs and symbols from a thousand conquered worlds. At its heart stood a figure Kha'resh knew all too well - Trazyn the Infinite, master collector and self-styled historian of the galaxy.
Trazyn's holographic image appeared on the command deck of the "Phaeron's Will." The Necron lord bowed with a flourish, his staff held dramatically at his side.
"My esteemed friend Kha'resh," Trazyn's voice was filled with its usual theatrical flair. "I do hope you'll forgive my rather abrupt entrance. But you must understand, the opportunity was simply too perfect to pass up. An entire planet, the last refuge of not one but two xenos species on the brink of extinction! Why, it's the sort of exhibit that comes along once in a million years."
Kha'resh shook his head, but there was no real anger in his demeanor. "Trazyn, your timing is as impeccable as ever. I assume the planet is safely stored in one of your tesseract labyrinths?"
"But of course!" Trazyn replied, sounding almost offended at the suggestion it might be anywhere else. "It will make a fine addition to my gallery of doomed civilizations. Perhaps I'll place it next to that delightful Squat homeworld I acquired some time ago."
Kha'resh could feel the confusion and frustration radiating from his Overlords. They had been denied their final victory, the culminating moment of their long campaign. But he also knew that none of them would dare question Trazyn's actions - or Kha'resh's apparent acceptance of them.
"Your contribution to the Rangdan Xenocides is noted, old friend," Kha'resh said, a hint of dry humor in his voice. "Though I suspect your motivations were somewhat less altruistic than galactic security."
Trazyn waved a hand dismissively. "Altruism, self-interest - such limited concepts. I prefer to think of it as preserving history. After all, someone needs to remember these species once they're gone. And who better than I?"
Kha'resh nodded, conceding the point. "Indeed. Well then, Trazyn, as always, it's been... interesting. Give my regards to Solemnace."
"I shall," Trazyn replied with another bow. "And do let me know when you next plan to eradicate a species or two. I do so enjoy our little collaborations."
With that, Trazyn's ship shimmered and vanished, taking with it the last remnant of the Rangdan and Slaught civilizations.
Kha'resh turned to face his Overlords, whose holograms now stood before him on the command deck. He could see the questions in their postures, the unspoken demand for explanation.
"Overlords," he addressed them, his voice carrying across the void to their ships. "The Rangdan Xenocides are concluded. The threat these xenos posed to our awakening empire has been eliminated. That the final blow was struck by Trazyn rather than ourselves changes nothing."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "You have all performed admirably. Each of you has proven your worth a thousand times over during this campaign. Now, we look to new horizons, new conquests."
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The Sahkar-Tet Dynasty, under the leadership of Phaeron Kha'resh Mek, stands as a testament to efficient governance and technological prowess in the grim darkness of the far future. Spanning the Obsidian Reach, the dynasty's domain encompasses seven sectors, with its heart being the 105 worlds of the Sahkar-Tet core and an additional 200 worlds scattered across the remaining sectors. This vast empire, at the height of its power, boasts control over 300,000 worlds, a number that would make even the mightiest of Imperial governors pale in comparison.
Kha'resh Mek's approach to governance is as methodical and precise as his battlefield tactics. The Phaeron has implemented a tiered system of administration, with each Overlord overseeing a specific sector, and beneath them, a hierarchy of Lords and lesser Necron nobles managing individual worlds and systems. This structure ensures that every aspect of the dynasty's vast holdings is under constant supervision and control.
One of the most impressive aspects of Kha'resh's rule is his innovative use of Necron technology for terraforming and resource extraction. Dead worlds, once thought useless, become valuable assets under his direction. Using advanced machines that manipulate matter at the atomic level, barren planets are transformed into habitable worlds. Atmospheres are created or modified, water is introduced or extracted from subterranean reserves, and even the planet's core can be stabilized or energized to create magnetic fields suitable for sustaining life.
These terraforming projects are not just displays of technological might, but calculated moves to create strategic assets. Habitable worlds can serve as bases for further expansion, host vassal species, or act as buffers against potential invaders. Moreover, the process of terraforming often uncovers valuable resources hidden beneath the planet's surface, further enriching the dynasty.
For worlds deemed unsuitable for terraforming, Kha'resh employs equally impressive technology for resource extraction. Entire planets are systematically mined, their cores hollowed out by vast machines that can process and refine materials at an unprecedented rate. Nothing is wasted - even the atomic waste from these operations is repurposed, either as fuel for other processes or as raw material for constructing new Necron warriors and machines.
The treatment of xenos races under the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty falls into three distinct categories, each serving a specific purpose in Kha'resh's grand design:
Ascendant: These are species deemed to have exceptional potential, either in terms of intellectual capacity or military might. They are cultivated, their development guided by Necron overseers. Some may even see their biological bodies improved creating valuable trans-human/ trans-xenos servants that are masterpieces or experimental organic creativity from the Necron Crypteks.
Useful: Species in this category serve various roles within the dynasty, from manual labor to specialized tasks that the Necrons find inefficient to perform themselves. They are managed carefully, their populations controlled and their development monitored to ensure they remain useful without becoming a threat.
Exterminate: Races like the Rangdan and Slaught fall into this category. These are species deemed too dangerous or incompatible with Necron rule to be allowed to exist. The extermination of such races is carried out with cold efficiency, often leaving entire sectors devoid of life.
The management of these different categories of xenos, along with the vast Necron population and the myriad worlds under Sahkar-Tet control, showcases Kha'resh's exceptional administrative abilities. Despite his immense personal power - power that often overshadows his other abilities in the eyes of many Necrontyr - Kha'resh proves to be as adept at empire-building as he is at god-slaying.
This efficient governance is not without its challenges, however. Drukhari raiders occasionally attempt to strike at Sahkar-Tet holdings. But such incursions are met with swift and decisive retribution. Necron Lords, eager to prove their worth and curry favor with their Overlords, often take it upon themselves to annihilate these threats. The remains of Aeldari raiding parties become grim trophies, presented to Overlords as evidence of the Lord's vigilance and martial prowess.
In the wake of the successful War of Reclamation against the Rangdan and Slaught, the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty finds itself enriched by 199 new worlds - a number that would have been an even 200 if not for Trazyn the Infinite's characteristically dramatic intervention. Phaeron Kha'resh Mek, ever the pragmatic leader, sees this as an opportunity to not only expand his empire but also to reward his loyal Overlords for their exemplary performance.
Kha'resh summons his five Overlords to the grand reception hall of his flagship, the "Phaeron's Will." The cavernous chamber, adorned with hololithic displays of their recent conquests, serves as a fitting backdrop for this moment of triumph and recognition.
As the Overlords assemble before him, each standing proud yet deferential, Kha'resh addresses them:
"My Overlords, you have proven yourselves worthy inheritors of our dynasty's legacy. The War of Reclamation, while but a trifle compared to the conflicts of old, has demonstrated your ability to adapt, overcome, and annihilate our foes with ruthless efficiency. It is time you were rewarded for your efforts."
With a gesture, Kha'resh brings up a detailed star map of their newly acquired territories. He begins to allocate the spoils of war:
To Overlord Amenhotep, commander of the Fist of Anuket, Kha'resh grants a cluster of 40 resource-rich worlds in the outer reaches of the conquered territory. "Your aggressive tactics have served us well, Amenhotep. These worlds, rich in rare minerals and energy sources, will fuel your future campaigns. Use them wisely."
Overlord Nephthys, leader of the Shadow of Khepri, receives 35 strategically located planets scattered throughout the new territories. "Your mastery of stealth and precision strikes requires a network of hidden bases. These worlds, positioned at key points in realspace and the Webway, will serve as your eyes and ears across our expanded domain."
For Overlord Imhotep and his Architect's Vengeance, Kha'resh allocates 45 worlds with vast potential for development. "Your analytical mind and talent for logistics deserve a canvas worthy of your abilities. Transform these worlds into marvels of Necron engineering and efficiency."
Overlord Sekhet, master of the Void Weaver's Snare, is granted 39 worlds forming a defensive perimeter around the dynasty's core territories. "Your strategic acumen will be put to good use fortifying these worlds. Create an impenetrable barrier against any who would threaten our realm."
Lastly, to Overlord Nefertari and her Eternal Resurgence, Kha'resh assigns 40 diverse worlds, each presenting unique challenges and opportunities. "Your adaptability is your strength, Nefertari. These worlds will test your ability to innovate and evolve. Show me what you can create from such varied raw material."
But Kha'resh's generosity extends beyond mere territory. With another gesture, he brings forth five crystalline cubes, each pulsing with Necron energy. "In addition to these worlds, I grant you each access to a portion of my personal data-vaults from the War in Heaven. The knowledge contained within these cubes is priceless - tactical data, technological schematics, and strategic insights from an era when we fought gods themselves."
The Overlords accept these gifts with reverence, each understanding the immense value of the knowledge they've been entrusted with.
Kha'resh continues, "Use this knowledge wisely. Let it inform your strategies, enhance your technologies, and remind you of the heights our race once achieved - and will achieve again."
As the Overlords prepare to depart, each to oversee their new domains, Kha'resh leaves them with a final thought:
"Remember, my Overlords, that while this War of Reclamation may have seemed a mere flexing of our dynasty's might, it is but a prelude to the true challenges that await us. The galaxy teems with threats both old and new. We must be ready. These rewards are not merely spoils of war, but tools for our continued ascension. Use them well, for the glory of the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty."
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The vast expanse of the Halo Stars stretched before the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty's Battlefleet, a sea of darkness punctuated by distant, alien suns. At the head of this formidable armada, the Phaeron's Will, a behemoth of Necron engineering, cut through the void with silent efficiency. Its hull, spanning an impressive 65 kilometers, dwarfed even the massive Tomb-Class Cairn Ships that flanked it.
Within the command bridge of this titanic vessel, Phaeron Kha'resh sat upon his Command Throne, a living embodiment of Necron might. His form, 12 feet of black Necrodermis with gold outlines, was crowned by a headdress that writhed with shadowy tendrils - a constant reminder of his victory over the Nightbringer. The title "Godslayer" was not mere boast, but a chilling truth that even the stars seemed to whisper in fear.
Beside him stood Nemesor Malakar the Immovable, his most trusted warrior. Malakar's frame, though smaller than his Phaeron's, radiated an aura of unwavering strength and loyalty. He turned to Kha'resh, his metallic features set in a mask of determination.
"My Phaeron," Malakar's voice resonated with mechanical precision, "are you prepared for what lies ahead?"
Kha'resh's only response was a slight nod, the gesture carrying the weight of millennia. With that simple movement, the Dolmen Gates of the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty yawned open, tearing a hole in reality itself. The Battlefleet surged forward, entering a realm beyond mortal comprehension before emerging into another section of the distant Halo Stars.
The armada was a sight to behold - nine Tomb-Class Cairn Ships, a thousand cruisers of various classes, five Scythecraft Carriers, and three World Engines. Each vessel was a testament to Necron supremacy, their very presence seeming to dim the stars around them.
As they began their search, Kha'resh's mind turned to the Overlords he had left behind. The concept of democratic decision-making was foreign to him, an oddity in the rigid hierarchy of Necron society. Yet, he had implemented it in his absence, ensuring no single Overlord could rise above the others. It was a calculated move, born of necessity and pragmatism.
Weeks passed as the fleet scoured countless systems. Every barren world was meticulously scanned, every dead planet investigated for signs of dormant Necron presence. The search for Naogeddon and the slumbering Deceiver drove them onward, an obsession that consumed Kha'resh entirely.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity even to beings who had conquered time itself, they found it - a solitary planet orbiting a furious star. Naogeddon hung in space like a malevolent jewel, its surface obscured by raging storms that turned the atmosphere into a swirling maelstrom of dust and deadly mica shards.
Kha'resh rose from his throne, his form seeming to grow even larger as anticipation surged through his ancient frame. "Prepare for planetfall," he commanded, his voice carrying the finality of an executioner's axe. "The Deceiver awaits us."
As the fleet moved into position around Naogeddon, Kha'resh began the preparations that had served him so well against the Nightbringer. Massive pylons were deployed to the planet's poles, their otherworldly technology designed to contain and manipulate the very fabric of reality. Aeonic Orbs were scattered across the storm-wracked surface, each one a potent weapon in the coming battle.
The descent to Naogeddon's surface was treacherous, even for the technologically superior Necrons. The planet's perpetual storms battered against the landing craft, mica shards pinging off their hulls like deadly hail. The Eternals, Kha'resh's elite Lychguard, stood impassive within the craft, their black and gold armor a stark contrast to the swirling darkness outside.
As they touched down on the planet's surface, the full fury of Naogeddon revealed itself. The wind howled with unnatural intensity, carrying particles that could strip flesh from bone in seconds. Fortunately, the Necrons had long since abandoned such vulnerabilities.
Kha'resh stepped out first, his massive form barely affected by the raging tempest. The shadowy tendrils of his headdress writhed more vigorously now, as if sensing the proximity of another C'tan. Behind him, the 7,000 strong Eternals fanned out in perfect formation, their weapons at the ready.
"Malakar," Kha'resh's voice cut through the storm, "secure the perimeter. I sense it beneath our feet."
As his forces spread out across the barren landscape, Kha'resh focused his attention on the planet itself. Beneath the swirling storms and lifeless rock, he could feel the pulse of something old, something that should have remained buried.
The Phaeron led the way, his strides purposeful and unyielding. They soon came upon the entrance to an ancient tomb complex, its architecture unmistakably Necron. The gates, once grand and imposing, now lay half-buried in the planet's shifting sands.
With a gesture from Kha'resh, the Eternals moved forward, their weapons cutting through the accumulated debris of millennia. As the entrance was cleared, a yawning darkness greeted them, promising secrets long forgotten.
Kha'resh stepped into the tomb, his eyes glowing with an eerie green light that cut through the gloom. The corridors were silent, devoid of the usual hum of active Necron technology. It was a tomb in the truest sense, a place of death even for those who had conquered mortality.
As they delved deeper into the complex, they encountered countless stasis chambers, each containing a Necron warrior frozen in eternal slumber. Kha'resh paused before one, studying the deactivated form within.
"A fallen dynasty," he mused, his voice tinged with something akin to regret. "Their fate could have been ours, had we not possessed the strength to endure."
They pressed on, moving through grand halls and narrow passages, all bearing the marks of long abandonment. At last, they reached the heart of the tomb complex - the resurrection chamber. Here, Kha'resh found the central resurrection matrix, a technological marvel that should have ensured the eternal rebirth of this dynasty.
But something was wrong. The matrix was intact, its intricate mechanisms undamaged by time. Yet it stood silent, devoid of the energy that should have pulsed through it.
"The power source," Kha'resh realized, his eyes narrowing. "It's dead. Without it, this entire dynasty is trapped in eternal slumber."
For a moment, the weight of this discovery seemed to press down upon the Phaeron. An entire dynasty, lost not to war or catastrophe, but to a simple failure of power. It was a stark reminder of the precarious nature of their immortality.
But Kha'resh had not come here for a dead dynasty he can revive this Dynasty later on for it's only a consolation price. The Grand Prize lay elsewhere, and he could feel its presence calling to him.
"Onward," he commanded, turning away from the silent resurrection matrix. "The Deceiver awaits."
They delved even deeper into the tomb complex, passing through chambers that grew increasingly grand and imposing. The architecture here spoke of power and arrogance, the trappings of a civilization that once thought itself the equal of gods.
At last, they reached a massive door, its surface etched with warnings in ancient Necrontyr script. Kha'resh read them with cold amusement. Warnings meant little to one who had already slain a god.
With a thought, he commanded the door to open. It resisted at first, millennia of disuse fighting against his will. But in the end, no mere mechanism could stand against the power of a Phaeron. The door groaned open, revealing a chamber bathed in an otherworldly light.
And there, at the center of the chamber, suspended in a containment field of impossible complexity, was a shard of the Deceiver. Even in this diminished, imprisoned state, it radiated power and malevolence. Its form shifted and writhed, never settling on a single shape, a visual representation of its very nature.
Kha'resh stepped forward, his shadowy tendrils reaching out as if drawn to the imprisoned C'tan shard. He could feel the power within it, the same power he had tasted when he shattered the Nightbringer.
"Mephet'ran," he said, addressing the Deceiver by its true name. "Your time of slumber is at an end. Awaken, for your judgment is at hand."
With a gesture, Kha'resh deactivated the containment field. The chamber filled with a blinding light as the Deceiver's shard, for the first time in eons, tasted freedom.
As the light faded, Kha'resh found himself face to face with the awakened C'tan shard. The Deceiver's form solidified, taking on a shape that was both beautiful and terrible to behold. Its eyes, windows to a realm of madness and chaos, fixed upon the Phaeron.
"Kha'resh," the Deceiver's voice was a symphony of lies, each word carrying a thousand hidden meanings. "Have you come to fall prey to my illusions once more?"
Kha'resh's took the Void Reaper from his Pocket Dimension, the Very Weapon he used to fell the Strongest C'tan and will be used once again to another C'tan., the shadowy tendrils of his headdress writhing with anticipation. "No, Mephe'tran. I have come to add your essence to my own, just as I did with Aza'gorod."
The Deceiver's laughter echoed through the chamber, a sound that could drive lesser beings to madness. "Bold words from a pawn who thinks himself a player. Come then, little king. Let us dance once more."
And with that, the battle between Phaeron and C'tan began, a conflict that would shake Naogeddon to its very core.
A/N: Maybe I should Seperate the Chapters in 4k Words much easier to make.