![]() Many people are under the delusion that necromancers can simply bring back the dead, and others say they’re simply a scam. Sects feature, Undead Affinity improvement They can also learn them from other necromancers, from ancient tomes or inscriptions, and ancient feys that are steeped in magic. They learn new spells as they experiment and grow in experience. True necromancers, like other casters of their caste, live and die by their spells, sometimes quite literally. Though the casting of a typical spell requires merely the utterance of a few strange words, fleeting gestures, and sometimes a pinch or clump of exotic materials, these surface components barely hint at the expertise attained after years of apprenticeship and countless hours of study. While many are drawn to this class by the allure of immortality and other self-serving means, many others are persuaded by the prospects of helping the dead find peace through retribution or helping a loved one move on. ![]() Scrutinized, sequestered, and most of all vilified, true necromancers are vastly misunderstood spellcasters due to their association with beings such as liches and gods of undeath. In some rare instances, a true necromancer will choose to teach wizards interested in the arts of necromancy the basics at which the operations of undeath and its powers make the world tick. Where those within the school simply dabble, true necromancers thrive on and, in some cases, choose to succumb to the powers of necrotic energies wholly. Necromancers, unlike wizards who study necromancy, observe nothing other than the facts of death and the machinations for which the umbral energy of the realm can be used to their advantage. Upon impact a bright light shoots outwards and with a flick and twist of the wrists the light is redirected to one of their unseen allies, all wounds vanishing in an instant. With swift gestures and the mumbling of a few unintelligible phrases he sends a maelstrom of spells hurtling towards a swathe of foes. In cloths of black, lined in white silk, a lone blonde-haired figure stands atop a hill overlooking the encroaching enemies. The gruesome sounds of the quarrel fade swiftly, and there in the newfound torchlight a half-giant surrounded by scores of undead awaiting his command stands in the bloody aftermath. For what feels like minutes of uncertainty in the unknowing dark only the sound of incoherent groaning, flesh tearing, and screams of terror can be heard. A momentary gust of chilled wind embraces the now beaten and battered huddle of adventurers, extinguishing all form of light they had left. All hope for the ill-fated adventurers seems lost as torchlight fades amidst their hopeless struggle. A group of ill-prepared adventurers delve into dungeon’s deep and are greeted by a malignity of goblins.
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