The Downfall of a Necromancer.

To my dear reader

Now that you have found this book, let me warn you: This is a story from a perspective you have never considered before, a perspective that lacks those basic morals that you ponies seem to have. I have lived for many years and seen both the worst and best life had to offer. I became the worst that life has to offer, if you were to listen to the legions of Paladins and Crusaders that find my profession an affront to their beliefs. As for myself, I was apathetic to these accusations and simple ideas, after all, I only moved into a worn down crypt.

Okay, maybe "moved in" was is not the whole truth! I "moved in" and then proceeded to reanimate the dead of the crypt and sent them to get supplies from a local village. Unfortunately, there were some deaths among the local populace, as their militia was stupid enough to attack a group that outnumbered them. Seriously, only fifteen men against fifty zombies and skeletons armed with weapons? And then not one of those men used actual weapons, just farm tools. It is no wonder they were killed. After every other living soul left in terror of being added to my employment, (Never waste any resources available, especially fresh bodies!) I contently stayed in my crypt simply researching a way to make myself a lich. You don't know what a lich is? Good, I would have to kill you (professional courtesy of course) if you knew what a lich was when I was lacking in my knowledge of your world's version of Necromancy, but since most of you good natured equines seem to be ignorant of the word, allow me to explain Necromancy.

Necromancy is by basic definition the art of summoning the souls of the dead to appear on the plane of the living. Nothing inherently evil about it, but it is still a little in the grey area of morality, (the dead really like their eternal rest.) My particular form of necromancy is unfortunately a sin against nature, as I summon the souls of the dead and then I proceed to enslave them through sheer force. I chain them to my will and then make them take over their own corpses in order to serve my will. This is a very big no-no in the eyes of mother nature who just wants dead things to stay dead, but where the fun in that?

As you read more throughout my story I will give you more information on necromancy and what I did with it. Heck, you just might find references to the old mare's tales that were told as scary stories to young fillies and colts at campfires. Also, I will include the diary entries that my dear mother and aunt have written about the events that will transpire in the story. Please note, however, that I will be removing some personal aspects from the entries to allow them some privacy, as I really have no interest in my aunt sending me to the moon, or having mother go through the unholy rage she went through when I read her diary. (Let us just say that the period as Nightmare moon she went through looked like a childish tantrum compared to what see did to me.)

Now, my readers, thus begins the Memoir of the Necromancer! (To be fair, the title wasn't my idea, Mother just thought it was cute and encouraged it...Nine hells technically this entire book is her entire idea!

(Apparently I’m considered the monster of the royal family and though that is something I approve and encourage, Mother wouldn’t stand for it...Hence this waste of paper....Gods the things we do for the ones we love!)


Chapter 1.

My ultimate dream was to be immortal, to be unaffected by time, to pass throughout the ages becoming a god amongst men, and now I when I finally had the opportunity to make that dream possible, a thrice damned group of ''Heroes'' decided that killing me would increase their reputation with the many groups of adventures that seem to hang out at taverns located throughout the kingdom. So here I am in the middle of performing a rather complex spell, which involved a few sacrifices, and a hefty amount of magic that was about to give the laws of reality a good kick in the balls, when I suddenly found myself completely at the mercy of the of the mismatched group of adventurers that suddenly busted down the rotting door of the crypt and launched themselves at my minions, who lurched into action.



I would love to say that I made them work for their victory, but unfortunately the group had among them a Paladin, who cut right through the zombies and skeletons like wet paper with his holy blade. I couldn't tell who was with him at the time, since I focused on the spell seeing as how it was nearly complete. I was almost certain that I would be able to finish the transformation, but to my dismay, a hooded woman came out of the shadows and stabbed me in the kidney!



It hurt… a lot.

Unfortunately, that also caused me release the magic that I was shaping in a rather uncontrolled burst.

Let me explain something to you: magic is a reality shaping force; if you have enough know-how and power you can do anything at all. But uncontrolled magic tells the rules of reality to fuck off for a bit, and then reality takes offense to this and they both get in a fight. Now some of the time it's just a harmless pillow fight, but other times it's fight to the death. Now, while I was on the stone floor bleeding out from a fatal wound, Reality and Magic seemed to say ''fuck it'' and created a black portal right under me.

The last I saw of my world was that hooded bitch cheerily waving goodbye to be.

Thus began my unyielding hatred of assassins, and of my arrival in Equestria.

-Excerpt from the diary of Princess Luna-
Dear Journal,

I feel something strange in the air tonight. 

It’s something I can't describe yet….maybe I'll ask Celes if she feels it too.