Overlord Xen'lathur stepped off of the floating monstrosity of archaic science which was his personal Command Barge, and gazed upon the wasteland of dirt that would soon become a killing field. He almost felt sorry for the inferior xenos, with their simplistic and bulky weaponry; there superstitious stupidity. But he remembered that they trespassed on his planet, trespassed in his kingdom.

And that was punishable by death.

He turned towards his right and standing there was Cryptek F'xenon. The Keeper of Gauss was always a little bit anti-social, but he seemed a little more quite today. Perhaps he was savoring the moment, the moment were he knows the humans will try their damnedest to set up defenses, but for no avail. For they shall be slaughtered.

Xen'lathur enjoyed the idea too.

"Is The Machine in its place?" asked the Overlord, knowing that it would be. No one would fail for him.

He referred to his legion of metal entities as The Machine, as that is what they are, and it works like a machine too. Each piece has it's place like each squad has it's place, and vice versa.

"Why, of course," replied the Cryptek, "Have I ever failed you?"

"No. I suppose you haven't."

"Right then. I will battle with my Lychgaurd beside me. Yours will be awaiting for your convenience. They will come from the Monolith."

"Excellent..." Xen'lathur crackled. He knew the time was now. He will defend his kingdom, for in order to expand something, you must give it a solid foundation A lesson he learned the first time, when the War in Heaven was tearing apart the galaxy star by star.

"Let us march to war then."

"Of course..." F'xenon said, as he stepped through a gate of energy, leading to a dimension from where he will come onto the battle field via Monolith.

Overlord Xen'lathur bellowed a command to all of his subordinates, which stirred his blanket of Warriors and Scarabs into a metallic tide that would consume the human defense.

He flew through the wall of weak flesh and old metal tanks. He killed them all. He could feel the life dissipating from the inferiors like a man being reduced to steam from his Staff of Light. How he wish he could smell their fear.

He knew the battle was over before it begun, for no one could stand in the way of them; The Necrontyr.

They were Legion.

They were unstoppable.