>A Necron incursion often announces itself, not with braying horns or flying banners; but with the sudden appearance of the Flayed Ones. These revolting automatons come shambling out of phase, bleeding in from null-space like a bad transmission. Metal skeletons wrapped in raw meat. Strips of skin nailed to their chassis. Wet offal strung like garlands. Some madness compels them. A glitch in the code. A curse older than the stars. They hunger, though they obviously cannot eat. They daub their unmoving jaws with gore, in some foul mimicry of feeding. It doesn't sate them, though their corrupted processors continue to tell them that they are hungry. So the slaughter continues unending...