It was a bright, windy day on the tomb world of Solemnace. It was the perfect day for a picnic or perhaps a quiet nap under a tree. Rather, it would be had the atmosphere not been scoured away countless millennia ago by the uncaring universe, leaving the winds in question to be of the solar variant. Of course, one could still attempt to have a picnic if they were particularly determined, but with solar wind being supersonic plasma such attempts would inevitably not end well for the kinds of beings that would even bother with a picnic in the first place. Regardless of the ability of the world to host a picnic or not to host a picnic, it was still a nice day in his opinion.

He remembered long ago when that meant something to him. When he would occasionally take some time off and just sit on a balcony with a few of his most trusted Lychguard, enjoying the unforgivably rare breeze of his arid homeworld upon his face. He remembered the times when he could still taste the cooking of his household staff (checked for poisons at least ten times of course) and could still partake in feasts and merriment. When the music of his people and the greatest works of artisans would be on display in the streets and his Phaeron would declare a time of festival. Now they, along with any of the other peasantry, couldn't do much be stare forwards blindly and fire their gauss flayers. His Phaeron…well, the less that was said of his fate the better. Still, thinking back on all he once possessed and all that he now has lost, perhaps he could understand a little bit of why his colleague collected the wonders of races far inferior to their own.

He was standing on the surface of Solemnace, gazing upon the sprawling necropolis before him with more than a little disdain. When one pictured a tombworld, especially one as important as Solemnace, generally the image that came to mind was a dark world of towering spires and countless defenses, lit only by an ominous green glow. This one though eschewed battlements for exhibits and defenses for elaborate viewing halls. It was a strange way to have a world designed, but Trazyn was a strange Overlord. It ran in the Dynasty he supposed. While the Maynarkh were known for their savagery and the Ogdobekh were renowned for their technological prowess, they had always been known for their…eccentricity. All the Overlords in the Dynasty were had an eccentricity in one form or another, and as exasperated as Trazyn often left him, he was far from the worst. The Great Sleep hadn't helped this at all. Not really surprising considering the number of things that the Great Sleep did help could be counted on one hand. His temper was not among them. Turning from the twin suns and steeling his nerves, he prepared himself for yet another delightful conversation with Trazyn about "liberating" things that may or may not have disappeared after his kinsman had coincidentally been visiting.

…

Their conversation led the two Overlords through many hallways and past many exhibits. He had done this as he thought better whilst walking, and Trazyn had agreed as he just loved showing off his extensive collections. As they passed by yet another exhibit, he was distracted from Trazyn's continuous rant about the vast difficulties he had experienced whilst attempting to create a Tyranic zoo of sorts by an exhibit of the Imperial variety. The plaque was of interest, as for once Trazyn actually gave thanks to a benefactor rather than just ignore him or her as usual. He had no idea who this Valeria person could be or what an Inquisitor was, as to his knowledge there was no Dynasty with such a rank. It sounded incompetent though. He lifted his gaze from the plaque to the burly creatures within. Humans, they were called, though these seemed to be much larger than the ones he had encountered upon awakening. Still, they had that same religious zeal in their eyes that he knew all too well. It was the same zeal he had seen so long ago in the eyes countless races, all spawned by the arrogant Old Ones and all oh so sure of their righteousness. All so willing to bleed and die to stop him and his legions, spitting both curses at him and supplications to the Old Ones as if it would absolve them of their failures. They had all been ground to nothing under the might of the Necron war machine regardless of their beliefs and sureties. Seeing it here though brought up many unpleasant memories he had wished would stay forgotten.

He had wondered, back then, how nice it must be to be so assured in your cause. To have met your "gods" and know the purpose they had created you for. To have an ultimate, evil enemy that you must fight and to be surrounded by countless allies and kin willing to bleed and die with you to vanquish. To be devoid of infighting and betrayal. To still have trust in the "gods" you fight for. To able to speak to the common folk and get more than a blank stare in response. To still have your family. They had called the Necrontyr an envious people. They had claimed the Necrontyr had started the war out of misplaced jealousy for their betters. In a way, they weren't wrong. About the Necrontyr being jealous that is. Just about who and why.

Still, it was somewhat discomforting to see that the same blind faith had survived the millennia, and was once again in the hands of the galaxies "dominant" race. On the bright side, they actually had the intelligence to question the heavily enforced state religion. On the downside, it generally lead to some kind of defection to a new religion based solely in and on the immaterium and its denizens. He and his kind had only really had experience with the immaterium via the Old Ones and their psychic offspring, as well as the Enslavers. The Enslavers had been oddities, even amongst the colorful cast populating the War in Heaven. Only attacking psykers, and apparently being from an entirely different dimension, he had never actually encountered one. He really hadn't been sure what to make of the odd creatures then, but both sides agreed their appearance wasn't really helping anyone. In the end, they hadn't really mattered to him and hadn't done nearly enough to matter before the great sleep began, so he had written them off as the Old Ones fault and been done with them. To hear now that they HAD actually been quite important, and that now some relative of theirs, called Daemons he believed, was a major player was quite disconcerting. He wasn't quite used to being so very wrong on matters like this. Still, to see the humans who turned from one blind faith embrace another as a result frustrated him greatly. Was it something deeply encoded into many races DNA, he wondered, that made them so dependent on something greater? What was it that had made those that disparage one god just move on to others? He didn't understand this idea of blind devotion to one god after the other. When the C'tan had betrayed them, that had been that. There was no denial, no searching for someone to replace them. Just rage. Consuming, unending rage. There was no such reaction from these beings of flesh. Still, he had no doubt some would find the ideas of these humans quite amusing. Szarekh would likely find the idea of being a literal god to his subjects very appealing and perhaps rather humorous. It was equally likely he would despise it though, when one considered how badly he had reacted to the truth about the C'tan. Regardless, even with the oddity of their faith there was more than a few connections that could be drawn between the two races. Their unending hatred of their opponents, their militaristic stance of life, the infighting, and most importantly, their absolute and utter refusal to give up on something to the point it passed foolhardiness and became absurd. So he supposed he felt a little kinship with the overly religious race. It wouldn't stop him from killing them though.

Approximately 3.457 centi-seconds had started since he had begun his musing, but it had been enough for Trazyn to notice and start going on and on about something or the other in relation to the exhibit. It probably didn't really matter, something about the "Acabrius war" (the name meant nothing to him) and "catachans" as well as something about "the instructions issued to the gift not being clear". Not that it mattered to him, but it was obvious that this tangent would take a while to derail. Sometimes, he really regretted that his kind no longer needed oxygen. I he still did, at least he could have interrupted when Trazyn stopped to breathe.

…

Eighty exhibits and forty-two hours later, he had finally managed to reacquire approximately half the things Trazyn had stolen. Not as much as he had hoped, but not nearly as bad as he had feared. He was on his way out when he was suddenly struck with another concern, and spent another twenty minutes getting his fellow Overlord to agree not to use the items to that were "definitely nowhere on Solemnace" to add his own name to the Archaeovist's growing unconvincing and unoriginal list of aliases. Still, a productive evening in his own opinion.

Having once more taken up the position he had stared in, he glanced over Solemnace one last time. As the setting suns' blue rays illuminated the Galleries, he was struck by how beautiful they were. He snapped a quick picture with his oculars to view later. It was quite picturesque he decided. Perhaps not as suited for war as the other tombworlds, but not diminished by it in the least. Rather, it seemed that this was a world built for peace, in complete disregard for normal Necron procedure and the environment it was born into. He wondered, had Trazyn realized that he had created a world meant for peace instead of war? Was it intentional? Perhaps he was overthinking things again. Never the less, this was a world much better built for after the war than any other. If that ever occurred. It seemed at points that the war would never end, that this was all there was to all creation. It made him so tired. So very tired…

But that was what this world was to him, and why he was so fond of it. It was a world uninvolved in the numerous wars raging constantly around the galaxy. Well, as long as there wasn't something to be liberated that was. It was a world that lacked the cutthroat politics of the ancient Necrontyr Empire. It was a world that was filled with uncountable wonders of both races old and new. It was a place that helped him reminisce on what he once had possessed. It was a world that let him think on the current state of the galaxy in peace. It was a world that held a mostly crazy Overlord and his collection of "liberated" relics that, perhaps, he may even considered a friend. It was a nice, relaxing world that held perhaps the only museum he would ever bother visiting. And most importantly, it was a world that reminded him that once, there had been peace. True, uninterrupted peace. It was this peace that he was fighting for. For a peaceful galaxy ruled by the Necron Empire once more. A galaxy where he could go and argue aimlessly with other Overlords about things that didn't truly matter and walk home at the end of the day with nothing more important to worry about.

Like everything else in the universe, the Necrons would have to fight for this. They had to fight to live on their homeworld as Necrontyr. They had to fight reach the stars and spread across countless worlds. They had to fight to survive as a race, and they had to fight again when they did not. They had to fight because it was the core of what they were, what they are, and what they will continue to be. They had to fight because that was the only way anything ever seemed to get solved in this charnel house of a galaxy. They had to fight, so that one day, the entire galaxy could be like Solemnace. A world concerned with only the wants and whims of its populace, not with war and suffering. Not with enemies old and new and the horrific mess the galaxy had become.

Even as he boarded his ship, he knew that he, himself was also required to fight. To liberate a tombworld under his command and teach those upstart, Toa was it? Tue, Troa, Tua, Teu? Whatever they were, that he was not to be trifled with, and that they should have listened to his warnings and vacated post haste. Now, they were here today standing in the way of his vision for the future. If he was to see the peaceful galaxy he envisioned, he would have to obliterate all those that stood in the way, so efficiently and ruthlessly that to do so again would be inconceivable. If he wanted Solemnace to stay the way it was, he would have to defeat all those who opposed the resurgence of the Necron Empire, whether they were enemies old or new. So if the Toa(?) wanted to stand on his way, fine. It mattered not to him. If the Toa, Eldar, Humans, and the rest of the galaxy wanted to wage war on his kindred, so be it. Sure warfare may be all he was good for, but he was very, very good at it. So he left the Solemnace system with conquest on his mind and hatred in his heart. He went forth to claim a world in his name, far, far from this place. Far from the detailed galleries and the antics of its overlord. He knew he would be back though. Hopefully with less of his possessions being transferred in the process.