The First Necromancer

Next short story coming up! The artist for this picture is Juila Uusitalo and you can find them over on Facebook.

This particular story is about the First Necromancer to ever exist who also doesn’t think he is one… It’s an odd and amusing short.


I want to give special thanks to the patrons who’ve supported me thus far:

Hypermice, Sean Young, and Mister Artorias

Check back Friday for the next progress report then Monday for another story!

The First Necromancer

Personal Journal of Heretic Liander

Excerpt One (Age 22):

I got kicked out of the most prestigious school for wizards and sorceresses. My opinion of this? Thank the heavens!

If there is any positive I got out of attending the school, it was finding out what a waste of time it is and how much better I am off without it. I can list a multitude of issues, but the number one reason is, without a doubt, how stuck-up all of them are.

We all know how you cast a fireball. Just spin your hand about, squeeze the air, and say the word “fiya!”, then, poof, fire! Right? Well, I found out if you squeeze the air and spin your hand at the same time, then say “fiya,” you still get fire! Know what the professor said when I pointed out this fact? He sent me to detention like it is still grade school. Absurd, I tell you!

Here’s another example. You want to boil some water for tea, alright? You just have to snap your fingers and say “Heta!” I found that out on my own. In the school, they demand that if you want to boil water you have to yell “Fiya Heta Wata,” snap both fingers, and do a little spin. Insane I tell you!

One more example for good measure. Your favorite pet has died. The fools that run that place would demand the pet be buried properly as ordered by the church. Well, if you use any common sense you can learn that touching the pet and saying “lifa” will bring it back to life. When they buried Mister Snuggles, that was the last straw!

So, I got expelled for my attempts at reviving Snuggles. That school will be damned for stopping me.


Excerpt Two (Age 30):

I was made a mockery by the school for years. Being a failure of a wizard (according to them) justified their games against me. Personally, I wasn’t too bothered as I do consider myself a failure at the common teachings of wizardry. I let the jokes fuel my anger, and with this anger, I have become an incredibly powerful wielder of magic. It’s not the magic that you would suspect though. It is a magic specialized in life. I’ve started to call myself the “First Anti-Deadmancer.”

This magic has allowed me to raise multitudes of skeletons from gravesites to perform my bidding. Of course, the church got upset; however, I told them to shove off and continued my work. Then the villagers started complaining, and next thing you know there’s a bunch of soldiers at my doorstep!

Honestly, they were all making a big deal out of nothing. Either way, I wasn’t going to let them stop me from succeeding in my goals, so I sent the skeletons off to deal with the soldiers. It’s a good thing the skeletons can take a beating as the soldiers fought well. However, my skeletons were far more numerous, and the soldiers eagerly changed to my side once they realized the odds were against them, especially after there were a few holes in their bodies.

Off my little army went to destroy the local church as punishment for causing this whole mess. After all, the church is supposed to be a place that treats everyone equally and with peace; instead, they were being a thorn in my side. Not much of a church, in my opinion, so better to be rid of it.

After the whole village was dealt with, I had plenty of skeletons to do my bidding. All in all, the day could have ended worse.


Excerpt Three (Age 45):

I destroyed the school. It was immensely satisfying!

I had raised a fresh army of skeletons from the nearby gravesites and swarmed the school. They tried their best to fight back, but like usual switched sides and apologized once they realized they were outnumbered. Now I have how many coming to me, begging for me to teach them. It’s all quite a bother as I don’t have a ton of time to sit here teaching a bunch of groveling fools. I decided to take on a few to teach while killing off the rest.

Now, I’m trying to figure out what to do. My entire goal for the past twenty-three years was getting revenge at the school for Mister Snuggles. Snuggles is by my side barking gleefully in thanks, and the wizards who stopped me back then are now dead. I feel rather complete in life.

Though I think there are others like me out there who could use help, even now the ones I took on to train are a perfect example of needing help. There is also the church, which is still being a pain in my side sending huge armies that all end up falling to their knees to me.


Excerpt Four (Age 50):

The church sent an emissary to beg for mercy after the onslaught that my armies caused. I did end up agreeing to the peace as I’ve personally grown tired of this whole “war” thing. I now sit in my study at home after a day of lessons. I wonder how much longer I have on this plane of existence as I feel a great weakness in my body.

I believe the casting of so much life magic has seeped the very life out of myself. I did find some relief in my body after laying to rest much of my army or giving off portions of it to other necromancers who I had trained.

More hopefuls continue to approach me in attempts to learn from me, though I’ve decided to not accept any more. I just want to finish the final few lessons for those I have now and maybe go off to the countryside.


Excerpt Five (Age 51):

This shall be my last entry.

I’ve built a small home by a beautiful lake, and I’m heading out there today.

I leave this journal with all my notes to you, my successor.

I hope within this journal you find the stories and teachings of use in understanding the history of necromancers and their place in our world.

I am positive that these lessons will be useful. Even today, I hear rumblings within the church and the surrounding lands from those upset by necromancers. They have begun to call us all “heretics.” They wish to use my name to damn us all. I implore you to instead wear my name as a sign of greatness over all others.

Farewell, and I wish you and all other heretics a bright future full of life.

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Author of the on-going serial "Perpetual War"

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