There are no meeting for necromancers. As a rule, they fear that sort of organisation. For some things, you’ll find that the mortal solution is surprisingly effective once you know where to look. The Yelp reviews of local graveyards and mortuaries should provide just about everything you need to start meeting necromancers in your area.
Naturally, you’ll find the biggest complaint most accomplished necromancers have with any burial ground is that it’s already inhabited by too many lower-ranking undead:
Above: A review of a local graveyard written by a popular local necromancer.
Of course, this introduces the issue of undead gentrification. Portal tombs and dolmens acquire a kind of cultural caché out of all proportion with their use. I mean, think about it, you might be at the most fashionable place in town, but if you’re spending all your time at the Ossuary, all you’re raising is skellingtons. They’re pretty cool and all, but nobody wants to be stuck with them all the time.
Anyway, the lesser orders of undead congregate around those places as soon as it’s known that they’re in vogue. Before you know it, there are vampires there, bleating about being the aristocracy of the night, and splashing their wine glasses full of blood all over your nice robes. Nothing gets those blood stains out.
Above: Some sample reviews of other local burial grounds by more necromancers.
If you’d rather meet necromancers in your area through the comfort of your own home, there’s always NecrOKcupid, as described in a previous post. Alternatively, there’s still plenty of time for you to join MySpace. The MySpace necromantic community has been seeing a huge upswing in the last few months. Now, I know what you’re thinking, MySpace has been dead for years…
#of course it was us who thought it would be a good idea to create giant robots to fight sea monsters #suck it joel stein time magazine and the rest of y’all #we save the world (x)
That awkward moment when you realise that you’re almost exactly the same age as Stacker Pentecost and aren’t anywhere near as awesome. Admittedly I do have the disadvantage of not being played by Idris Elba.
One of the best fanvids I’ve ever seen.
And when she says ‘one of the best […] EVER’ (emphasis mine), lemme tell ya: it’s really, really true.
I FEEL LIKE I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS VID MY WHOLE LIFE
omg omg I love it
THERE IS NO OTHER WORD FOR IT
I think I just had a nerdgasam
A brilliant metaphor
Once every week or so, I get a message like this from the cloistered high-society of the nigromancers. It’s embarrassing.
I will tell you the same thing now as I’ve told you every other time. I’m not like you; I didn’t build a black library using daddy’s money and raise the bodies donated to me by wealthy benefactors. I didn’t have the gold to construct a vaned tower to harness the stygian currents of magic. I learned my sorcery on the streets, in the necropolis. Down there, it’s kill or be killed, raise or be raised. I’m proud of my roots, and you dusty old fuckers will never know what that means.
Fig 1. Pictured above, the skellington who asked this question. Not pictured, inferior necromancer master.
Do I advertise my liche status for the “respect and adoration” of “pathetic followers?” Absolutely, having a hearty band of followers means never having to ask where the next corpse is coming from. It alleviates so much of the strain of the modern necromancer’s unlife. You’d know all of this if you were living in the same worlds as the rest of us.
Given your reference to your “master,” I take it you’re writing on behalf of some other thaumaturge. Sounds like a powerful necromancer indeed if he’s hiding behind one of his own minions… Look, if you want to throw in with a real liche, just give me a shout and we’ll work something out. I don’t offer any pay, and I may dispell the magics that hold you together at a whim, but at least you’d be in better company.
I’m not afraid of any confrontation with your existing master, we’ll disenchant his phylactery and banish the soul that animates his husk to the netherplane where it belongs.
As to the insinuation that my “kind will get what’s coming to us…” Liche please, I didn’t choose the liche unlife, the liche unlife chose me. This isn’t a limp, it’s my crypt walk.
You come at the liche, you best not miss
All I’m saying is that Season 3 of (My) Immortal should be just “Snap and Loopin Take A Road Trip To Vegas”
I would watch that.
Over and over again.
We were somewhere around Hogsmeade on the edge of the desert when the wizard drugs began to take hold.
I remember saying something like “I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive the broom…”
And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge thestrals, all swooping and screeching and diving around the broom, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the handle down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: “Holy Merlin! What are these goddamn animals?”
Then it was quiet again. Snap had taken his shirt off and was pouring butterbeer on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. “What the hell are you yelling about?” he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with wrap-around Spanish sunglasses.
"Never mind," I said. "It’s your turn to drive." I hit the brakes and aimed the Great Red Comet toward the shoulder of the wizard highway. No point mentioning those thestrals, I though. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.
This is the best thing I’ve read all day, hands down.
We had two bags of gillyweed, seventy-five liquorice wands, five boxes of high-cocoa chocolate frogs, a saltshaker half-full of aconite, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored maps, scrolls, howlers, grimoires… Also, a quart of pumpkin juice, a quart of exploding lemonade, a case of butterbeer, a bag of Bertie Botts every flavour beans and two dozen jelly slugs. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious sweet collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me were the every flavour beans. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a wizard in the depths of a bean binge, and I knew we’d get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.
I for some reason thought a version of Knight Rider set in the 1300s would be fucking fascinating.
A man and a sentient applecart travel from town to town, solving problems. The original title was going to be KNIGHT RIDER: 1201, but I think the new title is, “Please come to my house and delete my copy of Photoshop, these images are crying out to be destroyed.”
Sir Jolt must be destroyed, before it is too late