In the grand throne room, each of your steps echoes through the ancient walls and towering pillars, a testament to the timelessness of its design. True to traditional Necron aesthetics, the sheer scale of the hall is awe-inspiring, its vast expanse dominated by a palette of green and black. The elegant symmetry of the chamber is subtly disrupted by objects that feel out of place—statues of polished marble, opulent paintings (more often than not depicting the Necron patriarch himself), richly woven carpets, and curious artifacts. The decor evokes the grandeur of a Renaissance court, more fitting for a Terran monarch than a Necron overlord.

Yet, atop a throne elevated high above all others, the Necron sovereign sits, exuding imperious authority.

"Yes, yes," he intones, his voice a mixture of impatience and regal command. "Fall to your knees. Let your forehead kiss the floor, as is customary, peon. Then speak your case—but be swift! For we, Cyrus the Good, the Despot of all our domains, bear ever so many burdens upon our most gracious shoulders."