Inside the mind of a necromancer

[Kaodi]

"Please! I have already stated that the term 'Dark Arts' is distasteful. Ask yourself this: which is a 'darker' art- summoning a demon or closing a wound? Not the one that merely manipulates the energies of life and death. Indeed, there are many more 'necromancers' than admit to their craft. That bard who sings your hurts away? Her music is affecting the flow of your life force, concentrating it to heal you. That is necromancy. Every time a priest's god sends healing energies through you, bear in mind: that is the so-called 'Dark Arts' at work.

" I am very sory, sir, but as forcefully as you have tried to present your case, every first year academy student inevitably has had to read Balestor Vritelmak's essay and proof on why healing is a subfield of conjuration and harming is a subfield of necromancy. Given you have made such a basic error, I am forced to disregard the entirety of your argument. "

 

[chaochou]

They tried to warn us, of course. Our master, old Chrogus, shambling into the parlour, arms outstretched like a zombie, to scare us children, his face breaking into a grin as little Naomi screamed and hid under the table.

Later, as apprentices, we would occasionally recieve long disapproving lectures, punctuated with flinty stares, on the treacherous path of the darker arts.

They were shallow, meaningless warnings - absurd ghost stories from kindly old mages. But how could they know the truth? No-one who has not wielded such magic can truly understand. You can't be told what it takes from you, but once it's gone there's no going back.

Do I regret my decision? Perhaps. I see the horror, the revulsion. The innkeeper won't look me in the eye, the maid mutters prayers as I pass. But I can sense my redemption, taste it. It burns through me in my sleep, the patterns and lines of knowledge which will vindicate my choice.

I have work to do.

 

[the Jester]

" I am very sory, sir, but as forcefully as you have tried to present your case, every first year academy student inevitably has had to read Balestor Vritelmak's essay and proof on why healing is a subfield of conjuration and harming is a subfield of necromancy. Given you have made such a basic error, I am forced to disregard the entirety of your argument. "

"Bah, you are a victim of obsolete theories written strictly as propaganda. Look at the elder sources* and you will see true knowledge, hidden by later authors who were forced to subscribe to a more politically acceptable theory or suffer the wrath of the institutions of their time. Indeed, more modern sources have largely discarded such antiquated notions, although there has been a, harrumph, resurgence of them to some extent of late."



*1e PH: Cure wounds spells are necromancy.

 

[[OMENRPG]Ben]

As an aside, it is very interesting to me how many people wished to respond with in character thoughts or dialogue. Most peculiar; I'm assuming those of you who did have either thought of playing or have played as a necromancer.

I have spent far too long during the design process of my campaign worlds trying to understand the process of necromancy, reanimation, and the entire school of necromantic teachings. One of my entire cultures, a group that must live on very scarce resources, resort to necromancy out of necessity for basic life. They are ruled by a powerful cadre of liches, who "preserve" their society by granting eternal life and the lack of necessity for basic sustenance.

In a campaign that I DM'd some years ago, one of the primary NPCs who played a major role in the plot (read: primary villain) was an astute necromancer and indeed, a brilliant wizard. He was competent in most schools of magic, but preferred necromancy to achieve his aims. Aims which were not selfish or unemotional in nature, but simply pragmatic and in his eyes, magnanimous.

You see, this necromancer very much wished to live in a state of harmony with life, fate, his past, and the volatile world which he resided. The incessant warring between various factions of men, whether driven by scarce resources or greed or hate, or any of the base emotions, simply led to the destruction of life. Why raise an army of living men, spend the resources to train, equip, feed, and sustain them through years or decades of battle, when a wizard powerful enough can simply start with a small enough force of undead that can quickly snowball into a far larger and more obedient force than any other in the land.

This necromancer slowly acquired the dead to which to raise, enlisting the assistance of more powerful and cognizant undead creatures to serve as the captains and generals of his army, and slowly codified the fractured land into a single, beautiful, and harmonious empire. After a time, no army dared stand up against a host so formidable as an fifty thousand strong undead army (augmented by an artifact and maintained by thousands of lesser necromancers who trained under the principal necro) and the fighting ended. And all the while, no resources were spent, and every group that did fight, soon became "allies" (zombies) to the growing force lead by the necromancer.

He came to the logical conclusion that an empire ruled by a brilliant, immortal, and arguably omnipotent wizard such as himself would be the most glorious civilization in all of history; the crowning achievement of man circumventing the natural destiny and cycle of life and death. Those that wished immortality would plea their case to one of his many lesser magistrates, and those who wished to stay alive would remain so.

Manual labor work would no longer be necessary, as a host of free and infinite and inexhaustible workmen, the undead, could be provided to serve as economical and obedient slaves for every business and household. This would alleviate the stresses of the common man's arduous life, allowing him to focus on education, art, philosophy, and spending time with his family; possibly for eternity.

What nation wouldn't want this? What people would refuse such a utopia brought about by necromancy? Peaceful, serene, and eternal.

 

[Stormonu]

There are many tomes reputed to tell the tale of Black Marentail, first of necromancers. However, none of those fools ever had to live with him.

Marentail first took up the study of magic among the city-states of Misake. A young, bored noble, it was expected of him to learn the arts of war. Though in this he trained, he had a mind for books - and a talent for magic. So long as he performed as his parents demanded of him, he was allowed to pursue his hobby of magic, so long as it did not interfere with his "true" studies.

However, Marentail was always cruel and his parent's indulgence and air of superiority made matters worse. He'd killed his hunting hound by strangling it when he was only seven after it failed him in a fox hunt.

Animals were not the only things he was cruel to; he'd conspire to dismiss his father's servants just to see their agonized faces, and he'd advise his father to have those he dueled with among his father's guard sent to the front line, just to smile as their bloodied corpses were returned after a battle.

When only seventeen, his temper took it's first human life; he ran through one of his father's generals for reprimanding him. He'd often lashed out against those around him, and after that incident, all too often the result was the death of those nearest to him. His parents looked the other way on too many occasions, but even they could not forgive him when not only refused to marry the wife his parents had chosen for him, but drowned her out of scorn. With his murderous temper, he could call no being his friend and it only made him more callous towards others.

When his parents threatened to take him from his magical studies and enroll him in a military academy, he poisoned them to blackmail them into relenting; this I know because he himself told me this on several occasions. He did so quietly, and it took years for the poison to finally kill them. Those who knew him best had no doubt that Marentail was somehow responsible for the death. Regardless, by the time Marentail was nineteen, he'd inherited his parents wealth and lands, and the soldiers that went with it.

He'd faced a ghost when he was only twelve, and though he'd bested it, that experience had turned his hair white. His encounter with the ghost had sparked some mad desire to learn more about the undead. He would use those who fell to his wrath as fodder for his magical experiments. Quickly, he learned how to animate the fallen corpses into undying soldiers who were tougher and more pliant to following his commands. By the time he was twenty-three, he was no longer surrounded by the living; all that he commanded were undead. And he desired to expand his empire, for he needed more fodder with which to experiment.

As much a conqueror as a sorcerer, Black Marentail rode with his undead horde into the surrounding lands, establishing a kingdom of his own. When once a few brave fools dared to raid his undead keep to steal one of his magic tomes for a wizard on our town council, I came under his fell gaze. He traced those who stole from him back to our town, arriving moments only after our glorious councilor teleported away to save his own hide.

Black Marentail spared no one in our town in his wrath - no one but me, that is. That day, something in my sorcerous blood sparked. It was something as simple as a Charm Person, unconsciously unleashed by my terrified mind, that saved me. Marentail told me he was impressed that I did not cry or recoil at his or the undead's approach, but I know the secret truth that saved me that day.

For seven years, I have labored as his apprentice. He has tortured and defiled me, but I have not flinched within his presence. Still under the sway of that ancient spell, he calls me friend, and I will not allow him the pleasure of seeing my pain, fear or hatred of him. For most important of all, I have survived. Perhaps, because of me, others have as well, for now there are eight apprentices under Marentail, where once there were none. Marentail has even adopted a daughter, which he has taken to teaching her magic.

In the upper reaches of his great tower, he toils between cullings of the countryside on mastering the depths of magic. When he can no longer control his hunger for companionship, on those horrid nights he tells me of the secrets he is slowly unlocking. He has mastered the spells of the eighth circle, standing on the verge of grasping those of the ninth. He rants into the night of his quest for spells of the tenth, eleventh and twelfth circle - daring to reach into the magic of the very gods and snatch it from them for his own use.

However, I am under no illusion how tenuous my position is. Those apprentices foolish enough to show too much promise too quickly have fed his unsavory appetites, their knowledge devoured and then their bodies destroyed, or simply destroyed when Marentail could not fathom the secrets they held. Every night I dream of the corpses of my parents and kin who toil the fields outside the tower, and I dream of some way escaping. I dream of my revenge against him.

For I know what terrifies my master - he fears his own death. I have heard him awaken in the nights, howling that his own servants are rending the flesh from his very bones. I know what horrors he has seen, for I have often been forced to assist him in his labors; these labors of such horror that he fears falling prey to them at the hands of the undead he has created or the apprentices that he teaches.

I swear that one day, I shall be his doom. I will be the hammer that crushes him against the anvil - the tool that shall see him strapped to his own Bloodforge and drained of the life and magic like he has done to so many others.

 

[Hand of Evil]

The hot dead girls.
They like the dark side and wearing black.

There are a number of reason I could give, but what is my line? yep, world myth.

Say, necromancers are guardians of the afterlife, the job is to protect the souls of the departed and to guide the dead. Their time on earth is just to prepare them for the job they have waiting for them on the other side. What does that make them, people able to bring history to life, uncover secrets lost in time or making sure some things remain hidden. They stop the creatures that escaped. It's not a easy life, many loose their way.

It was the job my father had and his father and his father...It is what has been hammered into someone. They know of no other life, family duty and / or deals made with dark powers.

But on me, it looks good. It is an old joke, once there was a doctor that wanted to cure a disfiguring illness. He worked long and hard, giving up everything for finding that cure until one day, he finds that he has it. Looking into the mirror at himself, he says...but on me, it looks good. This has been discussed above.

 

[Dioltach]

Power: zombies and skeletons are an endless supply of slaves and soldiers. And the more people they kill, the greater the necromancer's army becomes.

The Thrall and the Dragon's Heart by Elizabeth Boyer features a necromancer, Myrkjartan, as one of the main antagonists. There's a PDF of the book on the Internet: I recommend reading it, as it offers a nice example of a necromancer and his minions.

 

[Zelda Themelin]

I could give many answers, few in game ones too, but let's try this one.

Well, depending on cosmos, using necromancy might be always evil or in some cases only. Zombies and skeletons are great for simple works. Dangerous things like mining. Or think some sale boat where you can replace rowers with skeletons. People don't need their bodies in afterlife, their souls rest easy and their bodies are used to do practical public labor, which gives those they loved in life easier life. You can replace farmers and many nasty dirty jobs with simple animated dead. You can dress them so that they don't look so strikingly grim and you can remove smell of zombies if you want to use them, there is magic for that.

You can sell such service. Undead, especially when dressed in armors to hide their grim nature, make great rescue parties from dangerous wilds (wild animals don't care to stalk skeletons), mines (no risking human lifes), from sea bottoms (ditto).

Necromancy is also good for dismissing and controlling nasty intelligent undead, that would hares lands of living.

Also necromancy is very intimidating magic art if done right. You don't have to be all that powerful to give opponents some scary feelings.

Tempting possibility of (un)life eternal is there, and not all liches are evil. Higher level necromancy is very powerful. I was pretty surprised as dm when players used Conrol Undead scroll succesfully and cleared many nasty rooms with certain big monster. (Paizo module Council of Thieve's p.3 Delvehaven).

You might also be interested in medical arts, curing diseases and stuff, understanding how bodies work.

Then there is coolness of finding monster trophies and animating them. Creepy collectors dream job.

 

[Aberzanzorax]

"Call it hubris, but I am my OWN god. If you would like, I can be yours as well."

Another take is that necromancers can reject the divine. They are arcanists who dally with the purview of clerics, developing some means to heal themselves (e.g. vampiric touch) and with negative energy they can sometimes heal the undead. They may seek to avoid death and so never take the journey to the outer planes where gods rule over them.

I'm imagining a benevolent, but twisted, necromancer who offers the gift of sentient undeath to any who would request it, sometimes even paying out of his own pocket if they cannot afford the fee for spell components. He does not scorn the valued magic of clerics, but laughs at them as their "bully heroes" the gods could take away their magic at any point should they step out of line.

The necromancer knows that it is the soul that is important. Zombies, skeletons, and the like do not contain a soul; it is best to create them from the devout (who wish their souls to pathetically serve their gods in death, as in life). Waste not, want not. Such creations can then also serve man, the living and undead who retain their souls, performing labors too unpleasant, strenuous, or dangerous for those who matter.


"It's foolish to spend one's life building a resume for application to an afterlife. Live well and improve the lives of others. If that is hubris, than I may just be a prideful fool."

 

[anest1s]

''Evil? You think I am evil?

What evil is?
The poison on the blade of the assassin is evil? Then is the same poison evil when inside a basic medical kit?
Is fire evil when it burns a building to a ground? Is it evil when it keeps the insects and the cold away?

Likewise, magic isn't evil. Necromancy isn't evil either.

Ever been a slave? If you were you would know that is evil. Yet an evil our ancestors had to fall to.

With the guidance of our great Goddess, the mighty Wee Jas we stopped that evil. Undead now do the work slaves used to do. You are free as you live, and served by them. But when you die your body instead of getting dumped is used for the greater good.

To protect ourselves from the crazy and the bad intended we have laws and reason.

The laws define when the poison is ''evil'' and when is not, and reason defines when we should avoid fire and when to embrace it."


If you can find a reason to be a LG necromancer, you can find a reason to be anything