Battle
As the Menelmacari munitions fell like a rain storm, the necrons swept forwards, their advance renewed in energy and drive, heavy vehicles blasting out to destroy or disable trains, while hovering and flying necrons, now freed from any concern of the enemy batteries, zoomed out over the land to engage the guns, and take captives. Always captives were taken, man, woman, tortoise or mushroom, the necrons seemed only to kill as a last resort, though they were quite brutal with thier captives, freely beating any that didn't immediately surrender and throwing them into Gaol Arks.
"I'm not even sure it's sapient," one said, as two of its warrior-bodies held a strange cloth-like thing.
"Nangnangnangnangnangnangnangnangnangnangnangnangnangnangnangnang!" said the creature, some kind of bizzare thing that looked like an item of clothing with a few humanoid features.
"I don't know. Shall we kill it?"
"No, throw it in with the others," the warrior said, and folded the nangnang in half, throwing it onto a captive turtle.
At last, they came upon the zombie horde, and began eagerly rounding up the hug-zombies as they tried to maunder up to the necrons and make friends with them. The human zombies were zip-tied and hurled into the prison transports, while the turtles were forced to retract into their shells and then had plastic belts put around them to stop their arms and legs getting out again, while Mushrooms were simply bagged, placed in plastic bags with air holes in them, that hung from the underside of the hovering vehicles. Terrible moans of dismay and befuddlement emanated from them as the loaded Gaol Arks turned around and headed back with their cargo, zombie and soldier alike.
Prisoner Processing, Imperial Necrontyr Ship Reaper of Light
A necron lord stood on a balcony watching as the prisoners were trundled along a conveyer, and tipped into cells on either side of the aisle, the zombies considered low risk, the mushrooms treated as the highest. The lord floated, hovering on his gravitic body, looking over the non-zombie turtles.
He picked one out, and moved into the cell, through the force-shield that confined it, grabbing the largest turtle by the shell.
"What are y' doin' t' me, darn robot!" the turtle demanded, "A'hm a prisoner o' war, y'hear! Ah demand t' see the Red Cross! Ah demand ta see a priest!"
"Silence," the Lord said, carrying the huge, four foot tortoise.
"Ah will not be silent-uh! Ah am a free turtle!"
"Wrong."
"And ah demandah' ta see the TurtleShroom ambassador! Ah demand-uh ta se the World Assembly monitors!"
"You will be lucky to see anything ever again," the necron said, as he carried the turtle through the portal, "you are going to the Grand Inquisitor of the Greater Pony Herd."
The turtle shut up for a moment, pulling inside his shell, "Please! No! Not that! Anything but that! Not the Devil Hawses! Not the Devil Hawses!" he said, much quieter, as his captor hovered through a portal to Frankfurt am Mane.
Ende Meeting Point
Cyash sat silently, looking with no sign of emotion, she waved a hand, and three Goal Arks hovered out of the small escort she had taken, with the Enderites in them.
"They will not need armaments any more," she said, "your traders are superflous," she added. The Arks' doors opened, "Tell your people they are free to go," she said, "we have no interest in them."
