The First Lesson in Necromancy

  • Dusk covered the cave entrance, sealed away the crypt from view. All too near the highway, the cave was sufficient for its temporary role, and Hralmahn could not, honestly, have been more pleased. He always got a bit too nervous before these types of things, and so he resorted to his usual tics. Shifting about the ingredients on his desk--a heart of unknown origin, a nightshade flower, and a quill--he waited anxiously for his pupils to arrive. They had arranged for around that time--nightfall on the 17th of Heartfire, but pupils always were late. Besides, the cave was a bit secluded, despite its proximity to the highway.

    When the shifting began to bore him, Hralmahn took to observing the cave. He realized he had never just looked at the place, even if he had been setting up the damned classroom for three months now. He glanced at the ceiling and got a weird sense of was oddly perfect, without cracks. --Just like my lesson plan!-- the necromancer thought, patting the stack of crumpled papers on the desk.

    Taking his gaze from the ceiling to the walls, he was slightly disappointed. Though he had cleared the hanging moss from the dank walls several times over, it was already regrowing. --Unfortuitous-- the necromancer thought. He then looked down from his slightly-raised platform, upon which the oaken desk rested. The seats were, well, rocks, and if the necromancer was to name his only regret, it would be that he had declined to import the damned study chairs from Cyrodiil. Alas, the rocks would have to do.

    --Where are the damn pupils--the mage thought again. They were at least a few hours late already, judging by the lack of light from the mouth of the cave. --Was it too dark?-- he pondered. Finally deciding that there was no such thing as too much light, he receded to his quarters to fetch the rest of the candles.

    They were sparse, his sleeping arrangements. After all, he did live in a cave. Walking around his bed (it was a quite nice bed, the necromancer would have told you). He reached into his cupboard drawer and extracted the three candles. Holding them tightly, he returned to the first chamber, and set them about the room--one was on the third rock from the left, one on a little alcove on the north-side wall, and one on his desk. Because he had placed the one on his desk last, he took to lighting that one first.

    Despite his avocation, he was actually quite skilled in most magic. With a flick of his wrist, a ball of flame arose from his palm and floated in the air, suspended a few inches away from the man’s palm. He turned his hand to the candle and shot forth a flame. He was too strong, though, and the flame spilled off of the candle and onto the desk. The parchment lesson notes, directly under the unfortunate candle, were lit like tinder, and devoured instantly. --Damn you! Damn you to Arkey’s wheel!-- the necromancer cursed the flame, the whole time watching it continue to spread. Realizing he would have to do something, he conjured up something else--a shard of ice--and shot it towards the flame in a panic. It culled the fire, but, in the process, stuck straight through the thin desk. --At least the damn fire was out-- the mage thought, exhausted.

    --Where were the damned students-- he thought. They were now surely late, and the dim candlelight was all that illuminated the cave. Almost dozing off, he shot up from his desk when he heard a knock on the cave wall.

    A Khajiit, his fur thick and matted, came in through the entrance. Sighing, he said, “This one thinks the brambles at the entrance were overkill.” He picked thorns from his fur and travel pack, and then sat the satchel down against the wall.

    “Where can Khajiit sit?” it asked to Hralmahn.

    --Is this beast stupid?-- the necromancer asked himself. Then realizing that this Khajiit was young, he corrected himself, saying to the student in front of him, “There are a, uh, variety of rocks, that you can sit on, if you please.”

    The Khajiit sat down on the second rock from the left, which was quite a high quality rock, and crossed his legs Ashlander-style. His tail whipping against the ground behind him, the young beast-man spoke up, “Would you like to know this one’s name?” it asked.

    “Surely,” Hralmahn responded, shifting in his chair.

    “J’va’daldo!” the cat said with gusto, obviously proud of his frivolous name. The cat had perked up when he said it, but then had sprung down again, hunched over his crossed legs. “Do you know when the others will arrive?” J’va’daldo asked, curiously observing the shard of ice stuck in the table. It was melting slowly, and a small puddle collected underneath the dripping tip of the ice.

    “They were supposed to be here earlier,” the necromancer replied with a sigh.

    The two sat in their positions for some time, not moving or saying anything else. The candles hummed their burning hum. Hralmahn pulled from his robe pocket a leek, and began to munch on it as the time passed. He had a strange affinity for leeks, and they really were his favorite snack. This one, though, was a bit crunchy, and so he threw it to the side. It hit the wall of the cave and made an odd twang...definitely too crunchy.

    When four hours of waiting had passed, the necromancer yawned for the final time. Looking down on the Khajiit below him, Hralmahn shifted in his seat again. By then, he had given up on the others, and began the lesson.

    “Necromancy!” the mage began with a boom, “is the art of making something dead be not so dead. Not alive, mind you,” Hralmahn emphasized, “just not quite dead.”

    --this was going well!--he thought as he continued, “Now I need a volunteer for my first demonstration!” He didn’t even have his notes, yet he still had the first part right. Fascinating.

    “Anyone? Anyone?” He asked to the mostly empty classroom. J’va’daldo, perking up to attention, raised his hand fervently.

    “You, there, the Khajiit on the flat rock three from the left!” he really should’ve gotten those imported chairs.

    The Khajiit stood from his position and approached the teacher’s platform. Hralmahn stood with a shining smile and a dagger in his hand.

    “Thank you for volunteering, young J’va’daldo,” the necromancer said kindly. He then stabbed the Khajiit in the neck. Were it not for the strange gurgling noise that came from the poor man-beast’s throat, it would’ve been quite clean.

    The necromancer flicked his wrist, and the waning fire on his palm shifted to a swirling ball of purple light. He pointed his hand at the body of the Khajiit and released his spell, and J’va’daldo’s body came back to life.

    “That, class, is how one successfully reanimates a body,” he said, turning to the classroom. It was empty, though, and all that he heard was the echoing of his own voice as he waved his hands frivolously.

    With a sigh, he sat down in his chair again, and pulled a leek from his pocket. Soft and droopy, just how he liked it.


  • Malign
    Malign   ·  May 18, 2016
    And they say learning Alteration is hard
  • Exuro
    Exuro   ·  April 19, 2016
    I wonder why no else registered for that class?
  • The Wing
    The Wing   ·  April 18, 2016
    I love this, but it did not make me laugh. 
  • ProbsCoolerThanYou
    ProbsCoolerThanYou   ·  April 17, 2016
    Ah, you're the capital punishment type of teacher. Glad I could give you a chuckle Lissette.
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  April 17, 2016
    It's what happens in my classroom when somebody walks in late. 
    Made me laugh, Probs. 
  • ProbsCoolerThanYou
    ProbsCoolerThanYou   ·  April 17, 2016
    @Lyall, yeah he was really quite the sympathetic character
    @Gloom and Sotek, pssh, nothing better than a good dagger to teach a lesson
  • NoOneIsHear
    NoOneIsHear   ·  April 17, 2016
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  April 17, 2016
    And I thought Aela's training methods were harsh....
  • Accursed
    Accursed   ·  April 17, 2016
    This one thinks after-school detention would have sufficed...
  • Lyall
    Lyall   ·  April 17, 2016
    Aww, I grew attached to that Khajiit. Poor guy.