He was still in the stygian pit, still trying to enjoy the Orks' flesh, but the bodies were already in poor shape, and after he had his way with them, he was in a pool of blood with only a few gobbets of flesh to play with. Once every so often he heard chitterings and buzzings up above from the Scarabs and Spyders, but nothing else gave a clear answer to when the ship would reach the planet.
After lying in this pool of blood for hours (or days), he felt the ship slow down, then halt. A trickle of light came through the floor, and Srunak peered through it. Then the trickle widened, and the blood rushed into it, and he realized the floor was giving way. He tumbled out and hit the hard ground, and the rest of the blood and flesh fell on top of him. He gazed up, they sky was gray and overcast, and the ship he was just on closed the trapdoor and flew away. Standing up, he saw all around him imposing jet-black pyramids adorned with the Ankh and other archaic signs on all sides, towers interspersed between that were tall and thin with statues on top and connected with long straight bridges, and desolate streets with gray sand piled in corners. The pyramids and towers bore dark stains at their bases that obscured their lighting, and the sand bore innumerable dark blotches making it nearly black. Down the street he saw an even larger pyramid with several layers and a staircase at its center with thousands of steps. A smaller pyramid stood on top with a bright light to distinguish it amidst the creeping darkness.
Srunak turned away from these sights, for he felt hungry again and wanted more flesh. Besides the Ork flesh at his feet, he saw nothing else in the street. He was about to embrace it again to get out what was left in it when he heard a series of screeches and howls from within the city. The shadows of the pyramids and towers were moving. He stood still and watched, and from the dismal shadows Necrons of all shapes and sizes emerged and slowly marched toward him. The regalia and symbols on their bodies showed they were of every dynasty and caste. The mob had many basic warriors, but also many elites. There were Immortals, Deathmarks, some Crypteks, a few Lychguards, and even a few Praetorians. They bore no weapons, but instead had enormous blades on their hands just like him; some had several thin ones, while others had only two or three that fused together at the base. Like him they were all hunched over due to the additional joints in their legs, making them shamble forward while others crawled on all fours.
"Flesh…" they groaned. "Need flesh."
One of the Necrons, an Immortal was the closest and reached for the skin Srunak wore. "You have skin," it rasped, "give it to me."
"No." Srunak answered, and the Immortal charged him. As if on cue, the other Necrons dove for the skin, grabbing and shoving at each other to get it. The Immortal tore many slices in his skin, causing it to fall off his body. He howled and swiped at the Immortal, knocking it back, and he swiped at more of the Necrons all clawing and grabbing at him to take what little skin was left dangling on his shoulders. He fought and resisted, but the mob of insane machines dragged him down, and they tore at the skin, tearing it into countless pieces and fighting each other for the largest pieces as they rolled and slashed and clawed in an amalgamation of metal bodies. There was much howling and screaming and grinding of metal as the Necrons fought each other, and Srunak was unable to get up for hours.
When there were no scraps of skin left, the Necrons finally ceased fighting and began to disperse, leaving him alone without any flesh. He screamed and shrieked and swore the most vile oaths he could remember at each and every Necron that dared take the skin he rightfully earned. He was now alone a nameless world populated by Necrons that seemed to follow no reason or organization and only existed to antagonize one another. What kind of Lord would allow this? He had not seen a Lord among them, there must be one somewhere in the city, but none of the ancient symbols on the pyramids and towers gave any sign of a novel kingdom or dynasty that ruled this world. There was nothing for him to do to better his situation but search for more flesh, surely this world had some creatures on it he could use. He ran around the pyramids and towers, searching desperately for flesh, even the tiniest scrap of skin would do. As he searched, he noticed other Necrons doing the same, with some following him in turn. He quickly attacked any followers to drive them away; his flesh would not be stolen again. He found none, but there was nothing else for him to do, so he continued to explore the city, searching and searching. The streets were populated with more Necrons wandering aimlessly, occasionally wailing and rocking back and forth for no apparent reason. They seemed to have lost any and all memory, as if their minds were entirely blank and were trying to stimulate themselves. Sometimes up on the top of the pyramids he saw Spyders, Scarabs, and Wraiths, and they were repairing buildings or patrolling as they always did. As he searched some more, however, these machines became more agitated; they moved quicker, jumped down onto the streets, and congregated in corners of the buildings.
He rounded the corner of a pyramid and came face to face with a swarm of Scarabs. He shoved them aside to continue his search, but they skittered in front of him and pushed him in the other direction. More Scarabs joined in, and he could not resist. He was shoved back into the street and back to where he was first dropped, and saw more Necrons entering the street with Scarabs and Spyders and Wraiths herding them. They scrambled and scurried about, some resisting the automatons, others not. They moaned or shrieked in response to every push and shove as if it was the only reaction they could formulate.
To the right he saw the largest pyramid with the small shining one on top. There was a figure descending from that pyramid. As more Necrons were herded in, the figure reached the bottom of the steps and walked down the middle of the street, slowly turning its head left and right to inspect them. The figure too was a Necron, the tallest Srunak had ever seen. Unlike all the other inhabitants of the grim city, this Necron was not misshapen; his fingers were of appropriate length and still had joints, while his legs were straight and kept his body upright. He wore a dark green cape slung across his collar and running down his back ending with strips and holes and numerous golden regalia on his body. His regalia seemed to have once been golden, but was now mahogany and rusty and twisted and malformed with anarchic symbols arranged in frightening patterns and shapes that only spoke of chaos. He held a scythe in one arm, its blade glowing with energy as it loomed over his head. On his head he had two eyes, but only one shone.
The Necron Lord halted in the street, surveying the city and its citizens. All was quiet for a moment as he did so and the machines watched him. "It is a time of bounty." he declared, and without another word resumed his march, and the Spyders and Scarabs and Wraiths herded the Necrons down the street following their lord. Unable to resist, Srunak followed crammed between other Necrons, all of them gibbering and hissing. As the march continued, he saw in the distance a fleet of ships, all immeasurably larger than the one that dropped him on this planet. They were wide, tall, and semicircular with a pyramidal structure in the middle, and their undersides had open ramps leading into them. They were stained like the city's buildings, and they bore the same maddening symbols that the Lord wore. The herding automatons forced them into these ships. Srunak entered one in the center accompanied by hundreds of the warriors, and they were corralled together shoulder-to-shoulder. He was barely able to move or twist his body, each time caused him to scrape against the Necron next to him. Interspersed throughout were pillars with hatched on them, and these too were stained.
Once the ship was crammed to its maximum capacity the ramps rose and shut, leaving Srunak with the company of Necrons he hated. They constantly jerked and twitched their bodies randomly grinding against each other, while they could only speak about flesh and skin and hunger. He too was hungry and longed for flesh. He would have tried to speak with one, but he could not as his desire, his hunger, refused to leave his mind. He could only mumble to himself over and over like the rest as the ship's engines came to life with a low hum.