The Necromancer Dialogs

EramTheLiar

"If you really look at it, Templars are just Necromancers with very shiny spells."

The comment was met with the traditional response to almost everything that came out of Delver's mouth: cautious disbelief. Disbelief, because what he said was so patently and obviously untrue. Cautious, because he had a knack for being more convincing that any man or mer had a right to be in these situations.

"This one thinks you have finally gone mad." The old Khajit Two-Patch mumbled something else in Ta'agra, obviously not meant to be heard or understood by anyone else in the refuge, but it made Delver's eyes crinkle in amusement.

The rest of the refuge erupted in general laughter, with more than a few shouting suggestions as to what had finally pushed Delver into the Shivering Isles. So far, Delver's favorite suggestion is that he had taken service with Sheogorath and was going to be one of his templars.

"He's not mad." The room quieted rather quickly when Blacktallow spoke. The lean Imperial had been considering Delver's words, a thoughtful frown plastered on his face, and was now leaning forward with interest. "I'm not saying I agree with him. I'd just like to know why he thinks it."

Blacktallow was a fairly accomplished necromancer in his own right, one of the few who managed to learn the magical arts of death without toppling headfirst into psychotic madness, so his interest was somewhat contagious. If a necromancer wanted to know why Delver thought Templars and Necromancers were the same, so did everyone else.

Delver grinned. Discussing Magic Theory in the Belkarth Outlaw's Refuge was always more satisfying than doing it in the Mage's Guild. Down here they just wanted you to back it up. Up there, they always wanted you to publish.

EramTheLiar

Delver hopped up on to a stout oak table and gave a short bow to the cutthroats, bandits, and rogue mages who had gathered around to serve as his makeshift audience. "The first thing you need to do," he said, "is to identify exactly what kind of magic each discipline is."

Blacktallow tilted his head to one side, considering thoughtfully. "Necromancer is the study of death magic. Or... Thanatotic energy, if you want to be insufferable about it."

Delver laughed. "Let's not be insufferable. It turns the stomach, and when mixed with strong drink starts generation-long feuds."

A general chuckle of agreement greeted that.

"That's your definition of necromancy, then. What about a Templar's magic?"

"Aedric magic," Blacktallow said promptly. "Which is generally thought of as the opposite of necromantic magic, which is why I find your declaration so curious."

"Indeed," Delver said, nodding. "That is what we are always taught. Aedric magic is magic that is used by the gods. It doesn't necessarily come from the gods, since I am not affiliated with any one but I can summon my Aedric spear as well as any of Stendarr's dedicated, but it is considered 'the type of magic that the gods wield, when they bother to do so.' And it is associated with life, and light, and shiny good things."

Blacktallow nodded.

"And then," Delver continued, "we have necromancy, profane magic used to summon and control the dead, associated with animating the dead, controlling ghosts, draining away your life's essence, and flinging rather pretty gouts of blue and green flame that either burns or poisons your soul, depending on your predilection."

Blacktallow nodded again. "Generally speaking. A few other things as well."

"Sure," Delver said. "The point is, when you think about it as shallowly as you can, they appear to be opposite types of magic. Life vs death. That's usually the way it's depicted."

"That does seem to be the case," Blacktallow agreed.

"So tell me... which discipline has a spell that allows you to absorb the remaining life energy from corpses in order to restore your own vitality?"

"Well, it's--" Blacktallow began, but then stopped. He frowned.

"Exactly. And which discipline has a spell that attacks multiple foes while stealing their own life essence and feeding it into your own?"

No one replied. Delver's grin stretched even wider.

"The thing about Aedric magic and Necromantic magic," Deliver said, "is that they straddle the exact same line and use the exact same energy -- they just point in opposite direction. Necromantic magic is Aedric magic. It has to be. Arkay is a god of life and death, after all. His magic has to straddle both because his domain straddles both."

"But he hates necromancy," one of the ruffians in the back protested.

"That's not theory," Delver scoffed. "That's just advertising."

EramTheLiar

Blacktallow considered Delver's words, his expression one of amusement warring with distaste. "You are saying that Necromancy is Aedric magic."

"I am!" Delver announced. "It has to be. When you're playing with the powers of death, you are by definition also playing with the powers of life, because really what you're doing is applying energy to move the marker either closer to or farther away from life. Like when you change into that ridiculously impressive bone monstrosity -- you're temporarily pushing your own existence away from life. And liches apparently do that in reverse -- the lich has to die first, then uses magic to push themselves closer to life. And life is Aedric in origin, and so your magic must also be Aedric in origin."

"So why don't Templars create skeletons?" Blacktallow demanded. "And why don't I conjure shimmering spears of light that I hurl through the air?"

"Simple," Delver said. "You never bothered to learn the spell."

"Oh, come on--"

"I'm serious," Delver insisted. "Why don't Templars cast necromantic magic? Well they do, if we acknowledge that both forms come form the same foundational energy. But we don't shape it in the direction of skeletons and liches and ghosts because Templars are firmly embedded in a society and relgion that frowns on it. It's like we all use soul gems, but we don't use black soul gems. Officially. As far as anyone knows. And nobody would tell Galerion if they did... but using a black soul gem is identical to using the regular ones."

"It doesn't feel like the same kind of magic," Blacktallow countered. "No one in this room would call you a pure soul of inspirational light"--there was a lot of laughter at this, including from Delver himself--"but the spells you cast feel substantially different. Not dark. I mean, I don't sacrifice children, and not one of my spellbooks are written in blood and bound in human skin, but the spells I cast feel... dark. Not light."

"That just proves my point," Delver said. "If you think about it as a spectrum, with life on one end and death on the other, the direction you move toward will influence how it feels, and what you anchor the magic to will influence how it feels. Cast a spell that moves toward life, anchored to the living? You get a light and fluffy feeling. Cast a spell that moves toward life, anchored to the dead? Significantly darker, and you get a skeleton following you around like a very unsettling puppy. You have to manipulate it one way to move the marker to life, and another way to move it to death. One way to interact with life, and another to interact with death. Of course it will feel different. You can certainly make a case that one profession focuses on death quite a bit more than the other... though I'll point out that for all my profession claims to be a healing one, our spells can be summarized as 'steal-your-life-with-a-pointy-stick, throw stab, fly through the air and stab, another throw stab, exploding shield, throw fire, throw more fire, use fire to make things hurt more, trap someone in fire, really really REALLY painful fire,' and ONLY THEN do we get to the healing bits, except for where we steal essences from corpses and conjure the bright ring of pain."

EramTheLiar

Blacktallow leaned back in his seat, sizing up Delver, thinking over what he said. "It's not a bad theory," he admitted. "But I'm not quite ready to buy your drink just yet. There's something fundamental you're overlooking."

"Indeed?" Delver hopped off the table and sank into a nearby chair, gesturing grandly. "Please."

Blacktallow snorted, rose from his seat, and climbed atop the table Delver had been using only moments before. He turned to face the crowd, who was cheering for him now. He bowed slightly, comically elegant in his weather-worn and frayed clothes.

"The parallels you draw between Aedric magic and necromantic magic are important, but you misunderstand--fundamentally--why there are parallels to begin with. You assume it is because they have the same underpinnings, but they don't. Necromancy isn't Aedric. It is fundamentally Daedric."

A hush fell over the crowd. Daedric power wasn't a taboo subject among that crowd--not exactly--but Daedra were dangerous, and their power wasn't something to take lightly.

"What makes it daedric?" Delver asked. "I mean, more than any other kind of magic, that is. All magic is a little Daedric."

"Except for Aedric magic," Blacktallow countered. "By it's very nature. The Aedra were Daedra, once, but they aren't now. They're different, practically alien to each other now, and their magic is different. But this is the important part..."

He leaned forward conspiratorially. "The Aedra created this world. Their magic--or perhaps a precursor of it, one step removed from Daedric and one step away from Aedric--is what constructed the Mundus and defined all the rules that define it."

He gazed over his audience, all apparently mesmerized by his words.

"Including the rules that define what is, and is not, mortality."

EramTheLiar

It was inevitable that Delver would break the rapt silence that had settled over the room.

"Ah yes, that's really the thing with your craft, isn't it? Unlock the mysteries of death in order to be free of it altogether."

"Of course," Blacktallow said. "And Aedric magic is the key to understanding it."

"Which simply adds weight to my argument," Delver said. "You must learn it in order to--"

"No," Blacktallow interrupted. "Quite the opposite. Aedric magic set the rules to mortality. Trying to use Aedric magic to reverse such a fundamental part of creation would unravel creation. Most of us don't want that. Instead, we do what any good practitioner does: we find a way to cheat."

Delver, fully drawn in, simply gestured for Blacktallow to continue.

"Daedric magic and Aedric magic are not the same thing, because they are tried to the natures of Aedra and Daedra. In a very general sense: Aedric magic creates, Daedric magic changes. A Daedra cannot create a new thing, but they can take an existing idea and change it."

There was a low murmur of agreement among the more learned ne'er-do-wells in the refuge. This was a commonly accepted fact among anyone who studied anything that crossed into metaphysical realms.

"But we," Blacktallow continued, "are not Daedra. And we can create. And that is fundamentally what Necromancy is--a discipline of change in pursuit of creation. We take daedric energies and shape them in patterns and forms and disciplines used in Aedric magic--altered to be more compatible with our source material, of course--and we attempt to break the fundamental rules of mortality itself."

EramTheLiar

Blacktallow glanced at Delver. He was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. Not sleeping, of course. Listening. And thinking.

"You point out we have some spells that do similar things. That's just an example of our successes. We have learned to duplicate some of the things you do. We can collect the expiring sparks of life from fresh corpses. We can summon a weapon that steals life from our foes and adds life to our own."

Delver's eyes opened. "I see an inconsistency here. You claim necromancy is a discipline of change in pursuit of creation, but you're talking about copying."

Blacktallow nodded. "Exactly. We are attempting to duplicate the Aedric... toolset, for lack of a better term, using Daedric energy."

Delver's eyes widened a bit. "Oh."

Blacktallow smiled. "'Oh' indeed. It is an incomplete toolset at present. But when we have the complete set, then we will be able to interact with the rules of creation using tools that are similar to, but not enmeshed in, the Mundus."

"And then you conquer death," Delver said.

"Yes. And then we conquer death."

EramTheLiar

"All right," Delver said. "Off the table. It's my turn again."

Blacktallow actually grinned at that. It wasn't a rare expression, precisely--he was amiable enough under most circumstances. But when it came to matters of magic and especially his profession, he tended to be serious. Something about this conversation tickled him, though. He climbed down off the table and made an elaborate bow to Delver, flourishing toward the table. Delver, for his part, climbed atop it as if he were mounting a grand podium, with all the pomp and circumstance of an Archbishop preparing a benediction.

"Now," Delver said, "if I understand your objection correctly, it is that Templar's work in Aedric magic, and Necromancers work in Daedric magic. You further state that the aim of Necromancy is to shape Daedric magic in such a way that it can imitate Aedric magic, allowing you to muck with reality without pulling on any seam hard enough that the whole Mundic tapestry unravels into a heap of quivering string."

Blacktallow nodded as he took his seat. "Accurate enough. If hyperbolic."

"What I want to know," Delver said, "is why you think Aedric and Daedric magic are different?"

That caused Blacktallow to frown in confusion. "Because... they are," he said.

"Are they?"

"Yes," Blacktallow insisted. "Can you summon Daedra using Aedric magic?"

Delver frowned. "Er... not that I'm aware of."

"Exactly," Blacktallow said. "Aedric magic is specific to the Mundus. We call it 'divine magic' but it's really just the magic the gods used when creating everything. Or it's what's left over after they finished their work. Either way, it's tied to this reality."

"Except it isn't," Delver countered. "Because I can cast my spells in the Oblivion planes."

Blacktallow fell silent.

"I understand your point," Delver said, "but if Aedric magic were tied to Mundus, why would it continue to work when I'm not in the Mundus? Coldharbor specifically."

"It works in Oblivion the same way Daedric magic works in Nirn," Blacktallow said. "You carry it with you. You are essentially punching holes from one place to another. Energy leaks through. Especially in Coldharbor, with all those anchors actively trying to merge the two realities together. Any place with a portal from one reality to the next will unavoidably have energies from both realms leaking through on each side."

"And why don't those energies explode?" Delver asked.

Blacktallow shrugged. "Why would they? When two things are not the same, it doesn't follow that they are oppositional in every way."

"They are not oppositional," Delver said, "because Aedric magic is Daedric magic. It is a specific subset of Daedric magic -- a discipline or school of Daedric magic, if you will, because the beings that use it have changed from what they were, and their natures cause them to use it differently. But it's still the same source. The best way to explain this will be to examine the most boring of all magical professions, the Sorcerer."

AcadianPaladin

Some interesting ideas here! My elf is a Templaric healer and Paladin of Kynareth. As such, she absolutely recognizes that to best heal and resurrect allies, it requires a working knowledge of both life and death. Though she considers herself to be a mage of light, there are certainly necromantic elements involved when she resurrects an ally or even restores a limb. While she would never call herself a necromancer, she has certainly studied the relevant aspects that help her.