The Necromancer and the Witch Hunter, a Dark Tale of TwiDash Love
An AU where Twilight was banished from Canterlot for practicing Necromancy before her assignment to Ponyville. Without the Elements of Harmony, Discord and Nightmare Moon reign. You are Twilight Sparkle, living in the Everfree researching the metaphysical effects of Necromancy when you begin a relationship with Rainbow Dash. Problem? She's a Witch Hunter.
***DISCLAIMER***
I do not own My Little Pony Friendship is Magic nor do I have any aphiliations with it, its producers, or its benifactors. I do not make any money from this fanficiton. This is a fan made story created purely for entertainment purposes. Please support the official release.
***DISCLAIMER***
***********************WARNING*******************
Swearing.
Violence/Gore.
Clop.
Disturbing Imagry.
Black Magic.
***********************WARNING*********************
Chapter one, Necropolis ae Twilight
-Necromancy, one of the most misunderstood and controverseal of magical practices. As loved as it is hated; to study death magic to aspire towards a single goal, master the forces of life and death. To command the corpses of all who have fallen, and grant eternal life to those who have not.- excerpt from the Secret Book of Bemnal the Fallen
You are huddled up inside your blankets upon a dark black bed, you have so much black these days... black clothing, black tools, black eye circles, black everything! Although it's not suprising, it IS the dark ages after all.
You remember how it all started oh so long ago... Celestia had cuaght you practicing Necromancy within the Convocation of Mages and boom, she kicked your rump right out the door... well, more like she sent guards to execute you and you fled for your life; buuut details, details...
It was around that time that all these Dark Ages stuff started, it began with Nightmare Moon's return, something that you had predicted for an existential time and when the event finally transpired you felt like screeming 'I told you so!' but you're more modest than that. Well it's not like anypony would have listened to your boasting anyway, they were too busy cowering like scattered ants screeming doomsday prophecies about the end of the world.
You slowly rouse from your sheets with an incredibly tired and aching body; oh how you hate your body sometimes, it's so bitchy 'I need sleep!' 'You're pushing me too hard!' 'If you don't eat I'll die!' nothing but whining left and right, sometimes you envy your undead servants, they never need to eat or sleep or go to the bathroom or any of those other annoying tasks; you've honestly given Vampirism some strong consideration but eventually decided against it on account of the need for blood; can you imagine how annoying it would be to have to hunt for prey on a regular basis? All the trouble you'd go through with killing the few Paladins, Clerics and Witch Hunters out there? ARGH!
Oh well... either way you've learned to (somewhat) deal with what you have. And right now what you have is a grumbling stomach. Stupid stomach... how are you supposed to satiate your body's need for sleep if you're hungry as well? You just can't win!
You roll your shoulder up only for it to spike with a sharp pain, oh great! Now you've got a sore muscle from sleeping on your shoulder wrong! Well, might as well chop that up with the rest of the bullshit you have to put up with on a consecutive basis.
Either way your stomach isn't going to pipe down anytime soon and thusly, you force your middle aged body out of bed; you're somewhere around 40 years old if your math is right. Getting up on two hooves, a practice that all ponies had become accostomed to so as to avoide the close proximity of their faces to the disease infested dirt, and make your way towards the kitchen nearly stark naked save for a pair of black panties. Clothes became another common practice for ponies as the regular temperature of the planet dive bombed into a near winter year round with the lack of snow but the omnipresent fridged cold.
You hardly notice the freezing air in you sleep muddled state, drowzilly slouching out of your bedroom within your little cave; a dwelling you've come to call the Necropolis ae Twilight. Your own little city of the dead. It's a cave within the Everfree that first leads to an ever confusing maze of twisting and winding hallways and rooms filled with deadly traps and undead monsters of your creation. The walls are all a black obsidian as well as the ceilings and floors; although you've used spike's large heavy body and dragon scales to smooth out the floors by having him waddle along the ground repeatedly. At the heart there's a staircase that leads down to a small apartment of sorts consists of a small hallway leading towards another perpindicular hallway creating a T shape, taking a right within this T shape leads towards a small intersection with a room to the left and a room to the right. In the right is a bathroom and to the left is a spare room filled with various junk and your various catalouged files and books.
If you were to take a left from the T shape you'd quickly come accross a room to your right which is where you've made your bedroom filled with a comfortable bed, an asortment of enchanted technology such as alarm clocks, sono crystals for playing music, a large Organ Piano for Spike to play when bored, and a dresser filled with rather similar clothing consisting of hardly any variety other than black jeans, black shirts, black zip up hoodies, and black ponchos for extra warmth. There's also a collectiong of black panties and socks for when you feel like letting out sexual frustration on yourself, just about the only indulgence you take in your body's natural needs.
To the left would be a small and simple kitchen with an enchanted ice box and refridgerator; further along within this kitchen is a dining area large enough for Spike to join. Continuing along the hallway leads to an open study area filled with all of your trinkets and jars and skulls on desks and alchemy stations and enchanting stations, the works.
Entering into the kitchen you gaze over at the silver sink and within it, your reflection; your mane is heavily disheveled as usual, your eyes of dark eerie circles around them from sleep depravation and your face seems more than a little bony from an unhealthy and irregular diet. You snort indignantly, you stopped caring about your appearance a long, long time ago. Down on your body you can see a plump stomach from all the sugary foods you consume to give you an energy boost for studying as well as your teats now with stiff nipples from the fridged air which you're beginning to take notice of. Ugh, stupid cold...
The extra pounds forming thicker than average thighs and a bit of a jiggly rump along with the bit of pudge in your tummy provide some much welcome insulation of heat so that's something at least. A small consolation prize that earns a laughing mock from your maw.
Ah well, why did you come in here again? Oh right, food... You open the Spriggon Wood cupboards and search for something to shove down your gullet while your horn lights up the pitch black area and unfortunately to find nothing that will satisfy for more than an hour or so; that is to say, you see ramen. Lots of ramen.
Closing the doors with slightly ascending agitation, you check a few other cupboards to find some tuna cans but you don't feel like going through all the trouble of mixing it with mayonase and what not. Checking the ice box you see a bag with stale long since expired buritos, a packaged TV dinner of a variety you've eaten so many times it makes you nausious and a hot pocket of all things, better save that for lunch, it's one of the few foods you enjoy aside from sugared meats. Oh yes, ponies were forced to become carnivorous once all the vegetation began to die out save for a few odd plants that grew only in moonlight but these were only edible to monstrous creatures of Nightmare Moon's creation... ironically said monstrous creatures are now hunted, farmed, and fed to the pony population. Sugar, chocolate, and other sweets are often added along with salt to the meats to improve taste but such a diet isn't exactly good for one's body. Better than nothing you suppose. At least one good thing came out of Discord's chaos, pony bodies can now digest the meat with no complications so at least there's that to be happy about.
Giving a mocking laugh, you close the Ice box and check the fridge. Some honey preserved deli slices of meat and prepackaged chese slices, the kind that looks and feels more like plastic rather than the genuine thing, and consider making a sandwich. But then why not just make the tuna? Ugh... you make your way over to another cupboard and spot some penaut butter, well... it's easier than building a traditional sandwich... you grab the jar and pull out some slices of bread, layering the slices with the cream you contemplate the recent events of history: Nightmare Moon returns, followed the year after by the return of Discord, now a days the two battle eachother fiercely for soverien rule over the world leading to a large spread of dark horrors and bizaar chaotic mockeries of physics throughout the land. Next came Chrysalis who married your brother -you nearly died laughing when you got the news- and joined the Lunar Republic legalizing citezen status for all Changelings. Poor saps, nopony has time for love anymoer, you have no inkling of how the Changelings still survive in these Dark Ages filled with depression and loathing.
You've now finished slathering penaut butter on a few slices of bread and folded them into halves before attaining a glass of milk.
The years that then followed were a dark and turbulant time. You were 18 when you first left Canterlot, you traveled for two years in which time Discord and Nightmare Moon began their still ongoing war with oneanother, leaving you at age 20. A year after that your brother got married and the Changelings came into society leaving you at age 21.
You settled outside of Trottingham for 9 years leaving you at 30 when you were discovered as a Necromancer and chased out of town by a few Paladins and Witch Hunters. Needing somewhere secluded, out of the way, and rarely thought about, you made your way to Ponyville.
That's when you settled here in the Everfree Forest. A place far away from civilization where nopony would try to hunt you down, a place deep in a heavily wild and enchanted part of the world filled with all the enchanting and alchemical materials you could ask for as well as a steady supply of fresh and long since dead corpses from foolish travelers who wandered into the wrong corner of the forest. Ten years later, here you are at age 40, a master of magic by anypony's account considering that you're powerful enough to cast the Wish Spell and Planes Walking Spell. Unfortunately Discord made it impossible to use those two spells but the fact still remains, you technically could cast them making you an Archmage in terms of skill and raw power; one with access to almost every spell in existence, along with a few custom spells of your own, infact one of your pet projects is to create an entire repitoire of new spells and even invent a new school of magic!
BLECH! Who in the hell made this penaut butter? It's revolting! Well so much for a nice breakfast, you make your way over to yet another cupboard and fish out a small bag of chips, hopefully their flavor will offset the disgusting expired penaut butter. Ugh, you'll have to make another trip into town today for more food if only to avoid starvation.
Dipping the folded bread into the glass of milk and taking a thoughtful bite while tossing a chip into your mouth, you contemplate the mysteries of magic as you know them.
There are nine schools of magic although the nineth could technically be classified as a sub-school leaving only eight total schools: Illusion, Enchantment/Charm, Conjuration/Summoning, Abjuration, Necromancy (your favorite), Invocation/Evocation, Alteration, and Greater Divination. Lesser Divination would constitute as the sub-school although there have been arguements as to weather or not it should have it's own school of thought or not.
You personally coudln't care less, oh well. Aside from magic, the one other thing you concern yourself with are Witch Hunters, annoying crusaders of Celestia who hunt down all evil creatures and dark magic users; that includes Necromancers such as yourself.
You have a rather large collection of grim trophies taken from the corpses of Witch Hunters who thought they'd try and kill you. Tch, idiots.
Either way one thing is for sure, this breakfast is disgusting. The only thing that could make it remotely bareable would be hard cider. Speaking of which, you head towards the fridge and pull out a bottle; popping the top with your magic, you guzzle down the bubbly liquid to help wash out the taste of bad penaut butter and milk; you soon begin chewing with a bored and tired expression, the food within your mouth is on the verge of simply falling out of your mouth. You manage to keep the excesses inside as you force the substance down your throat to quelle your angry tummy.
Throwing the garbage into the waste bin (enchanted with a nice little wormhole at the bottom) you make it back into your room with your hard cider before gradually downing it with regular sips. Placing the empty bottle on your bedisde nightstand, you clamber your whiny body back into bed.
Ahhh, comfy snugly warmth... at least when you satiate your body's desires it rewards you with happiness ableit only for so long.
You listen to the rhythmic rumbling of the room from Spikes big long breaths, his body curled up on a large hord of gold and silver surrounded by gems, evidently dragons use the silver and gold they collect as a sort of bed; their large bodies radiating high temperatures to mash the metal into a large comfy bed perfectly contoured to the dragon's body. Around the bed is a sea of gems collected in advance so that a dragon may avoid the need to hunt for more food. You personally have a Rock Farm just outside the cave where you cultivate Obsidio-Malachite, a type of 'living rock' that grows and buds much like a coral reef or a sea sponge.
When mined and cracked open, these rocks reveal gems, natural growing gems through cultivated Obsidio-Malachite. This would explain the large common appearance of gems throughout Equestria as well as why 'rock farms' even exist. Either way, you use the farm to keep Spike fed, that big loveable oaf.
Oh yes, Spike, he's grown quite big in recent years, to be expected you suppose, he's what... in his mid thirties now? Still a very young thing in the large scale of a Dragon's several thousand year lifespan. But still, Spike has grown quite a bit, he's now roughtly the size of a carriage with a brough wingspan measuring out to his full length. His snout, tail, and spikes have grown very shapely and sleek giving a much more 'anime dragon' look along with his wide golden fins at the side of his face; you still can't for the life of you discern the purspose of those things but you gave up trying to study dragons a long time ago there's just too much to catalogue and until you master Necromancy you only have so many years to live. That's another thing, you're not getting any younger... in a decade you'll be 50 and the average lifespan of mares has dropped to around 55 in recent decades due to the Dark Age. You've considered the Lich Spell but that's not really any better than a Vampire to be honest; you want genuine immortality. A goal you've been pursuing for years.
The initial idea is that magic tends to have a funny effect on corpses through Necromancy, you'd think it was something as simple as puppets on a string but no, Necromancy grants genuine life force to corpses! Even when a zombie loses its head it -contrary to many sci-fi stories- continues to animate its body; additionally, the zombies and skelatons you animate need no rest, food, or any source of incoming energy. With this in mind, one could theoretically prouduce a purified version of this to grant full on resurrection or even sustain one's lifeforce indefinitely!
Essentially you are endearing to create a sorcerer's stone, a faccite for immortality.
An hour or so passes with you laying in bed resting easy with your eyes closed, eventually you come to the conclusion that you need to get up and get those much needed supplies. Rousing yourself yet again with yet another spike of pain from your shoulder and neck muscles, you rise from your covers and don a few clothes.
You put on some black jeans over your legs -oh ya, with the inovation of bipedal movement, new words were invented for different parts of the body, hind legs became simply 'legs' hind hooves became known as 'feet hooves' and forelegs became 'arms' with forehooves becoming 'hand hooves'
Letting out a yawn, you finally secure the black jeans and slip on a soft black T shirt with the head hole hanging over one shoulder and securing a black zip up hoodie before doning a shoulder pack and filling it with a few possible essentials and a hsatilly scribbled list of needed supplies. Next, you secure a beld around your waist filled with material componants for your spells and at last throw on a thick black cloth poncho for extra warmth outside in the uninsulated cold.
Ah yes, the material componants of spells... Magic can be divided into two categories, Powers; and Spells.
Powers use a Unicorn's raw mana to produce supernatural effects by altering the physical plane with the Astral plane, this ability is many, many, many times more flexible than Spells as one could produce any effect they want on a whim, but it's extremely taxing on one's mana reserves.
Spells use only a tiny fraction of one's mana, just enough to draw ethereal runes on one's psyche as the Astral componant. A drawn rune creates a glyph on the Astral plane which can be used as a sort of 'flint and steel' to cause a supernatural spark which will ignite the astral changes upon the physical plane. But in order for the change to have direction without the use of large amounts of mana, one must supliment the spell with a material componant to act as a sort of 'lightning rod' for the spark; the material componant must have physical properties which would match the desired effect of the spell.
For example, a Slow Fall spell would likely use a feather as the material componant, then a catalyst is needed to ignite the two other componants together, this comes in the form of a verbal componant, speaking in the arcane language; it's not the words themselves so much as the pitch and resoloution of the words, the 'sound' created leaves ripples on the Aethereal plane which exists inbetween the Physical plane and the Astral plane as a sort of glue. Arcane language resonates within the Aether to overflow into both the material plane and the Astral plane allowing for the rune's spark to match the material componant's lightning rod causing a reaction leading to the desired effect of a spell. The shape of the rune will determine the desired effect.
So in a sense, spell books contain a recipee of the material componant, shape of the rune, and the Arcane Words with the correct pitch and resonation for activating a spell. A Wizard usually must study the spells each morning to inscribe the rune upon their psyche and memorize what material componant and Arcane Words must be spoken. Ofcourse, the Wizard can study a new spell later in the day if the need for said spell arises but it takes time to prepare it and thusly most Wizards like to study all their spells at the start of the day.
Then there comes the number of spells a Wizard can use. Generally speaking, a beginner Wizard can only cast one spell a day before being exausted of mental fortitude, they can still use powers until they run out of mana however. Casting a spell leaves an 'injury' on a Wizard's mind which they can recover from with eight hours of rest. It's also impossible to cast the same spell twice as doubling the same rune on one's mind could result in magic backlash and severely damage a Wizard's mind, usually the effect is permanant. Then there are levels of spells to take into consideration, there are genrally nine levels of spells; spells within the nineth level being ones such as, Wish, Planes walking, Power word Kill, and other such forbidden spells of godlike power. You yourself are capable of casting: 5 first level, 5 second level, 5 third leve, 5 fourth level, 5 fifth level, 4 sixth level, 3 seventh level, 3 eigth level, and 2 nineth level spells in a single day.
But then... there are also Epic Spells... but that's a whole other can of worms and something you wouldn't even pretend to understand. Maybe in a few hundred years after perfecting immortality you could look into the forbidden arts of Epic Spells. Of course, the temptaiton to begin study on Epic Spells is nearly irresistable. After all, Epic Spells are the very same ones used by gods. Beings like Celestia, Nightmare Moon, and even Discord rely on Epic Spells to bend the whole of reality to their will.
The number of mortal ponies who'd achieved the casting of Epics Spells can be counted on a single hoof. Meaning only one: Starswirl, the only mortal ever to achieve such a godly feat. Of course, shortly after casting his first Epic Spell, he was executed by Celestia for arcane blasphemy. But then again, he was stupid enough to practice such forbidden arts while hanging around Catnerlot, where as you are hidden within the Everfree.
The difference between a Wizard and Mage is that Wizards have small amounts of mana and so rely on Spells more so than Powers. Mages on the other hoof have large amounts of mana and so rely on Powers more so than Spells. You yourself possess an ungodly amount of mana to an almost suspiciously unatural point. Quite obviously you became a Mage but you still highly apretiate the artistic construction and casting of spells.
Heading out twards the staircase leading up into the labyrinth above youe home, you grab your Staff of the Magi, your pride and joy. Only five of them exist throughout the entire planet (counting yours) It took quite an adventure to create, the wood carved from Sylven Wood taken from an Ent. The three claws upon the 'finger's of wood grasping the orb at the top plucked from a Manticore, and the six inch diameter blackish green orb at the top was collected from your most flawless Obsidio-Malachite (aub-sid-ee-oh-mahl-ah-s-eye-t) then you had Spike breath his magical flame upon it to earn it Mystic Status making it worthy of being enchanted and finally; you engrained a series of useful spells upon the staff; the staff carries 30 charges and without using any charges can cast: Detect Magic, Enlarge, Hold Portal, Light, Protection from good/evil.
With a single charge it can cast: Invisibility, Fireball, Knock, Lightning Bolt, Pyrotechnics, Ice Storm, Web, Wall of Fire, Dispel Magic, Passwal.
Finally, with two charges it can cast: Whirlwind, Conjure Elemental, Plane Travel, Grand Master Telekinesis.
And ofcourse, it has this nifty little magic absorbing ability that doubles as an easy recharge ability. But if it overcharges well... don't over charge it... really... don't... It also possesses a self destruct ability should you ever need it, simply smash the crystal upon the ground saying that you willingly break this staff it will unleash all of its magics at once in an apacalyptic explosion of epic preportions leveling everything within five square miles. During such explosion there's a 50% chance of you being transported to another plane... and a 50% chance of you being completely obliterated to the point that not even an Eldergod could resurrect you with an Unlimited Wish Spell.
The only staff that you can think of with more power than the Staff of the Magi would be the Staff of Wishing created by Discord himself; a truly dangerous tool to let loose into the mortal world, it carries all of Discord's Chaos Magic allowing it to completely change the fabric of reality with an unlimited number of Unlimited Wish Spells. Although no credible records document its existence as anything more than a myth.
Shaking your head free of distracting thoughts, you make your way up into the labyrinth of zombies, skelatons, undead constructs, and summon monsters of your creation, all guarding your little gothic haven allowing you to conduct your research in peace. Now that your outside of the anti teleportation zone, you blink yourself just outside of the cave and make your way towards town.
Finding yourself drowzilly walking through the FUHREEZING forest, your hooves crunch upon frozen leaves and what youthink is frost although with how little percipitation there is this time of year your sure its just your drowziness playing tricks on you; you move the front of your poncho aside and peer at your zip up sweater to see foot stains, blood stains, mucus from wiping your nose and gods know what else patching here and there; your positive the same filth is on your jeans, shirt, and even your poncho but... you're already outside and... you've already come this far... ya you've gone too far to turn back you lazy pony you.
Bringing the poncho up to your nose you smell the stench of 'you're not even sure what' and reel a tad bit, well you certainly aren't getting any awards for cleanliness today, oh well it's not like you're meeting anypony special; just a routine trip into town to gather some much needed supplies. You secretly hope Spike does't spaz out at your absence and burn half the forest down looking for you... that's NOT an exaderation...
Oh well, at long last you reach the forest's edge with no confrontation although the strong aura of unease that radiates from your body from so many dark experiments usually either scares away most critters or tricks most monsters into thinking you're one of them... then again it could just be your smell... maybe you should take a shower when you get back... followed by a nice long hot bath to relax, maybe that'll shut your whining body up for a few hours.
As you cross by the forest edge it occures to you that you mayhap should have stopped by Zecora's for some more tea and herbs... ah well, you can do that on your way back.
For now, it's time to leave the Necropolis ae Twilight behind and enter the depressing hellhole that is Ponyville.
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