Necrons: Canoptek Wraiths
While a Tomb World slumbers, Canoptek Wraiths are its eyes and ears. Canoptek Wraiths flit silently through the dusty halls, patrolling for intruders and inspecting systems for damage and decay.
While a Tomb World slumbers, Canoptek Wraiths are its eyes and ears. Canoptek Wraiths flit silently through the dusty halls, patrolling for intruders and inspecting systems for damage and decay.
Repugnant to other Necrons, Ophydian Destroyers echo elements of servile Canoptek Wraiths and reviled Flayed Ones in their murder-optimised bodies.
Striding forward in a rush of ungainly steps, their weaponised limbs sweeping in a whirlwind of gore, Skorpekh Destroyers feed their need to kill whenever they are unleashed upon the battlefield. Nothing else can override the hard-wired desire to kill that empowers these deranged Necrons.
Stepping out from the fog of war come the Rubricae. Many of these undying warriors were psykers in their own right, before an ancient curse damned them to an eternity as living husks – their baroque power armour now contains nothing but sparkling dust.
Achilles Ridgerunners range into deadly frontier environments, their pilots scanning for promising resource deposits and communicating their location back to base.
The Patriarch and his Broodcoven dominate the minds and hearts of the cultists in their thrall.
While embarked upon a Command Barge, a Necron Overlord is able to oversee the battle, ensuring that his troops are engaged with appropriate targets and that everything is going to plan.
The Tomb Blade has a curious motion for a craft of its design, eschewing the arrow-straight attack vectors of other jetbikes and fighter craft. It often corkscrews across the battlefield rather than taking a more direction approach.
As the Necrons stir ever more into wakefulness, the Triarch Praetorians have re-emerged to join the dynastic legions. Triarch Praetorians hold a great responsibility - to ensure that the Necron dynasties never fall.
Infected with the gruesome flayer virus, the Flayed Ones attempt to gorge themselves upon the flesh and blood of their butchered foes, gore drizzling through their mechanical forms as they seek to slake a thirst they can never quench.
Illuminor Szeras labours to unravel the mysteries of life, for he fears that he would be a poor sort of god without the secrets of life at his fingertips. Szeras has been on the brink of understanding for many centuries, yet somehow final comprehension always escapes him.
Necron Warriors form the majority of a tomb world's nigh-inexhaustible armies. They are a corps of fleshless mechanoids, ranged in their millions against the vital races of the galaxy.