Nothing is so emblematic of Necron implacability as the Monolith. Like all Necron constructs, it is composed of living metal – a complex semi-sentient alloy that ripples and flows to repair damage in a blink of an eye
The Silent King rides to war aboard his Dais of Dominion, flanked by the phaerons of his Triarch and orbited by crackling noctilith Menhirs.
Shards of the Void Dragon fill the air around them with a searing scream of distorted static.
XV104 Riptide is the pinnacle of the Earth caste's battlesuit development. It stands twice as tall as the XV8 Crisis suit, but its movements are more like those of its smaller cousins than the mechanical stiffness displayed by Imperial walkers with their crude servo-motors.
A huge, deadly and nigh-undetectable weapon of impressive killing capacity, the XV95 Ghostkeel Battlesuit is a formidable display of T'au war technology.
An iconic rendering of T'au technological progress and ingenuity, the XV8 Crisis Battlesuit is a thing of joy to behold in battle - unless you're its target.
A virtually impenetrable barrier of glowing energy from behind which the Fire Warriors of the T'au Empire can pour scathing fire upon their foes, the Tidewall Shieldline thrums across the battlefield on repulsor jets, giving the enemy less room to hide with every inch of ground gained.
Built to withstand the pressures and challenges of underground mining, the Goliath Rockgrinder is a devastating piece of equipment when turned to aggression.
Like a hungry predator on the prowl, the Hammerhead Gunship is a menacing sight. It skims over a planet's surface with its massive turret-mounted gun swivelling back and forth to track potential targets before unleashing a devastating salvo to destroy them utterly.
Many Necron invasions begin with Night Scythes flitting through a world’s void defences.
Starsteles were placed upon worlds as territorial markers and silent guardians by jealous Necron nobles. Over the millennia they have become forgotten archaeological curios or feared sources of superstitious rumour about vanishments and strange lights.
Basking in the sheer alien glory of the patron that infected them, Acolyte Hybrids croon and hiss in the gloom.