It’s a rare Warhammer 40,000 story that’s told from a necron viewpoint, however Nate Crowley’s novella Severed achieves the unexpected – adding a fascinating sense of character, pathos and even soul to the supposedly soulless necrontyr. Vargard Obyron has fought beside Nemesor Zahndrekh for millennia, applying his loyalty and skill at arms in concert with Zahndrekh’s unrivalled strategic insight despite his lord’s idiosyncratic, troubled world view. Tasked with a mysterious mission to the Ghoul Stars alongside an old and dubious ally, they find themselves confronted by a darkness that profoundly challenges the bond between them, and Zahndrekh’s already tattered sanity.
Necrons are usually depicted as terrifying, implacable hordes, an archetype which Crowley cleverly twists to explore what horror and sadness might look like to a necron even while normalising their perspective and adding in a little dark humour. It’s a tale of friendship, honour and duty seen through the lens of characters who have lost much over the long span of ages – Zahndrekh, who sees himself and the rest of the Necrontyr as flesh and blood still, and Obyron, a soldier through and through surrounded by those who, whether due to differences in rank, madness, or the reality of ‘life’ for most necrons, he can’t truly engage with. As they reunite with old ally Setekh – a slippery devil if ever there was one – and face a corrupted version of themselves, Crowley explores their history, the bonds between them and the lengths they’re willing to go.
In Obyron and Zahndrekh the usual 40k themes are leavened with both whimsy and a lonely sort of sadness as the pair provide a touching and thought-provoking double act which balances the darkness of war with brilliantly-observed character humour. As the viewpoint character Obyron provides an unexpectedly relatable perspective, wearily putting up with Zahndrekh’s delusions and overblown pretensions, and manipulating his robotic body in endearing mimicry of human reactions. He’s an incredibly powerful character, virtually unstoppable when in the thick of the action, but he’s used to relying upon his Nemesor for leadership and direction. For all the humour, when their relationship is tested and Obyron is forced to deal with situations he’s not accustomed to and decisions he’d rather not have to make, the bonds of their friendship and the sacrifices Obyron is willing to make are called into question. There’s fighting aplenty, but this is a character-led story first and foremost so the conflict is rooted in their relationship.
It’s easy to forget that these characters aren’t human, as even though they take advantage of all manner of fun necron technology both Obyron and Zahndrekh are still hugely engaging. There’s a real sense of history to their relationship, and it’s genuinely quite emotional in places – Obyron is essentially dealing with a loved one with dementia. It’s really not your usual 40k story, even the action feeling different from the necron point of view with a unique approach to combat and all manner of exotic abilities, tools and weaponry being deployed. There’s a pleasing mystery to the plot (not so much whether Setekh is a bad ‘un but what he’s after), which is rooted in a very relatable question at the core of Crowley’s depiction of the necrons, all balanced against a compelling character study and exploration of what it is to be necrontyr. All told, Crowley succeeds in making the necrons sympathetic and incredibly human, while telling a story which captures the essence of 40k even while being fresh, unexpected, darkly funny and powerfully sad.
