The Stereotypical Necromancer

by JinxTJL

Chapter 3 - The School

It was impossible, he decided. It simply couldn't be true. Of all the things that could possibly happen at any time to anypony, why did this have to happen, at this time, to him?! Why him?

Light Flow sat against a lonely tree in the far corner of the schoolhouse's yard, clutching a brown-colored book in his hooves as he stared with a firm pout towards a pony playing on the swing set.

Orange Hooves.

His frown deepened, and he cursed under his breath with words his mother would never approve of—but he didn't care. The characters in his new book used those words, so why shouldn't he?

He had never wanted to see those stupid orange hooves ever again, and even worse, now he could see the whole pony attached to them. Oh, how he wished he could go back to knowing even less than her dumb face. Their relationship was now way too personal to stand.

Though, if somepony were forcing him to be completely honest as some revolutionary new torture method, he would say that the filly with the three apples painted on her flank was, in a resigned word, cute.

But if anypony just up and asked what he thought of her, he would say she was incredibly ugly.

He would say that he hated the dumb apple pony. He would say that her long, blonde mane that effortlessly caught the light in a near-perfect facsimile of a sun-dappled meadow's day made him want to barf. He'd say her tendency to wrap it into a ponytail so her soft, lovely face was always in view was nauseatingly self-centered.

He'd proclaim as loudly as he could that the subtle, shifting shades of orange fur that traveled down her back were aggravatingly uncentered and that they certainly didn't remind him of a fading sunset. Above all, he'd ruthlessly condemn those deep, green eyes with all their imperfect flaws that sparkled like priceless emeralds.

He hated the color green. Yellow, too, and orange. He didn't even really like apples at all, or sunsets.

Emeralds may as well have been worthless trash to him. He only valued pain and suffering.

He turned his attention away from the disgusting filly and her disgusting antics on the disgusting playground equipment, instead focusing on his newest obsession, conveniently encapsulated by the brown-bound book in his hooves. It was a relatively plain book, casually unremarkable to the average eye, but Light Flow considered it a personal treasure of his.

The Necromancer and the Night.

His previous frown slipped away, replaced by a dopey smile as his stare grew dreamy. He just couldn't believe he'd never heard about Necromancy before. Or, he guessed he could believe it, maybe. No, it was pretty believable, after all. Not his fault the dark arts weren't a common topic. More ponies should've been interested, in his opinion.

From what he could gather from the book in his hooves, as well as a big book he found at the library that had a bunch of laws in it, Necromancy was an super touchy subject. There was some kind of weirdo taboo about it—and it was certainly illegal. It was so far off conventions, he'd not even been able to find the penalty for studying it.

He imagined it wasn't good.

He didn't care about any of that though. It wasn't illegal to write fiction about it, and that was all that mattered to him. After he'd discovered the book during that stupid Saturday evening, he'd spent most of his waking hours pouring over it. He was almost done, actually, and he would've finished by now if his stupid mother hadn't told him to go to school.

After school, he was gonna go back to the library and ask if there were any more books on the subject.

Smiling, he prodded the buzzing core of energy in his chest, huffing out a breath of quiet exertion as his horn gradually lit with a subtle red haze. He gently took the book in the grasp of his mana, opening its cover to where he'd last left his grinning skull bookmark.

He was right at the part where the Necromancer resurrects his Dark Mistress, and together, they formulate their plan to overthrow the Princess. In the back of his mind, he idly wondered why such sacrilegious material was even allowed to exist, but, as with most things, he didn't really care. As long as no Celestial Disciples had plans to ambush him and throw him in jail for reading, he'd stay his current course.

Because he loved Necromancy.

It was the coolest thing he'd ever read about! Screw those dark-and-broody plotheads that just sat around moaning about the futility of life, or whatever! Now, he could read about real dark-and-broody villains that actually did things, and sat around boasting about the perks of un-life!

The idea of raising the dead was so incredibly awesome! It was the darkest, most vile thing he'd ever conceived of! What could've been worse than shackling those who have passed from this plane of existence to your unbreakable will and forcing them to do your bidding?

Commanding dark legions made of undying zombie ponies who have no fear or morals? Ruling over the whole of a newly undead Equestria where the sun has set for the last and most tragic time? Creating a catalyst to hold your soul in and becoming immortal?

That was another thing he loved! Immortality was always a hot topic in his old books, since living forever is a horrible, never-ending nightmare of constantly watching those you love wilt and die—forced to forever stay distant from those around you for the paralyzing fear of getting too close to anypony that would surely disappear in but a blink of the eye—embracing a fate of eternal loneliness, only ever watching over the place you used to call home from afar as it gradually and painfully changes irrevocably from what was once so comforting?!

Or something.

His point was that Necromancy solved all those problems! If anypony a Necromancer loved ever died, they could just bring them back to life and live with them forever!

Not that he had loved ones. Villains can't have loved ones, because they can always be used against them.

Safely hidden behind the levitating screen of his beloved book, Light grinned to himself. It'd taken him a while to learn that it was okay to show feelings besides anger—justas long as no one could see him. Hiding emotions was a sign of depth of character, or so he'd read.

Truth be told, he didn't even really understand what depth of character even meant. From what he'd gathered in his time reading some of his mother's books, it basically meant that a character with too few traits is badly written and uninteresting.

He knew he didn't have that problem though. He was a deep, interesting villain with a tragic backstory!

Unfortunately, because he was so busy pondering the depth of his character and thinking of new tragic events to monologue to despicable heroes about, he happened to completely miss the bell signaling the end of recess. The sharp ringing of the alarm was rendered deaf to his ears, and he continued to sit there stewing in his own thoughts until he was suddenly alerted to an approaching presence.

As he would soon realize in hindsight.

A shiver raced down his spine, his ears straining to their limit at the sound of grass crunching. Behind his book, he thought he'd seen... a flash of orange? Couldn't be. It wasn't. He said so.

He let his book drift slightly up and peered suspiciously under it, immediately catching a vomit-inducing view at one of the most unfortunately familiar sights he'd ever come to know. A groan rose in his throat as his head fell forward, quietly seething as his forehead made contact with his mana.

Orange Hooves. Of course.

"Hey, y'all know it's time to—wait a minute..." He couldn't see her, but he was assuming the plug-ugly apple pony was making some sort of ugly, scrunchy face. He heard a gasp, and he bit down on his lip hard enough to nearly draw blood, knowing that the encroaching situation could be nothing but bad.

"I recognize you! Yer' that rude colt from th' other day!"

Rude..? Him? He was the rude one?

As he'd carefully cultivated, his anger began to burble in the back of his throat, as he showed when he lowered his book all the way to stare at the filly. He glared his best, most scathing Angered Glare back at those unflinching green eyes, attempting to will the annoying fly into leaving him alone by sheer vitriol. Couldn't she see that he was trying to read?!

The clearly feeble minded orange pest took a step back, likely in agonizing fear of his well-practiced sneer. He'd worked hard and long at the ability to make his face contort in such frightening ways that anypony whom he happened to choose would fall into a state of deep, instinctual dread.

It was clearly working, and if he'd not still been staring, he'd have grinned in triumph. He won. He always won.

"...You alright there? Y'all need the bathroom or somethin'?"

Light's face almost literally deflated, suddenly taking on a stony expression of neutral monotony as his overtaxed mind went into overdrive in a struggle to comprehend the words. After a moment, his jaw dropped open, and his ears pressed back against his head. Looking at him, it was almost as if somepony had popped his battery out and he'd completely lost power.

The filly's expression morphed into that of panic. "Uh... Are... are you okay?! Yer' face is gettin' really red!"

He couldn't think. He felt as if lava was filling up his head and pouring out of his ears as great, big, rolling clouds of smoke. He continued to stare unblinkingly at the pony who he suddenly had no strong opinions about as she danced nervously on her hooves. He didn't really have any thoughts about anything at the moment.

The only thing in his head was a record player playing the a single thing over and over again.

Stuck on the same, looping track.

Y'all need the bathroom or somethin'? Y'all need the bathroom or somethin'? Y'all need the bathroom or somethin'? Y'all need the bathroom or somethin'? Y'all need the bathroom or somethin'? Y'all need the bathroom or somethin'? Y'all need the bathroom or somethin'? Y'all need the bathroom or somethin'? Y'all need the bathroom or somethin'?

"Um... w-wait here! Ah'll- er- go get the nurse!" The strange pony in front of him shouted in a clear panic before galloping off towards a building he wasn't sure he had ever seen before.

Anypony happening to observe the spectacle would then have watched the strange brown colt continue to gape at absolutely nothing before eventually, with very little ceremony, passing out in a dead faint.

What they wouldn't know, and what even Light wouldn't remember, was the last thought that ran though his head before he lost consciousness. As his internal record player finally managed to unstuck itself, it wheezed out one last thing before exploding in a great burst of flames.

Though he had a vague sense of embarrassment when he eventually woke up in the nurse's office.

Did his scary face really look like that?

Author's Note:

Hey there. I already wrote an AN, but then I accidentaly deleted it, so I'm just gonna tell you to comment your thoughts on the story so far. Do it, you won't.

[12/29/23 - Edited for grammar and readability. Screw integrity; this used to suck!]

Comments

[CarolMAssphault]

X'D

[xoid]

[Blue Spark]

Lol, I'd like to think that all the dark thoughts he has are just what he tries to force himself to think to be 'edgy' and that instead he is secretly crushing supper hard on Applejack instead without realizing it. XD

[Blue Spark]

Also, I really appreciate this chapter since at first I though the story took place a little before Nightmare Moon but now it's become somewhat clear that it takes place a little bit after when the Mane 6 gets their cutiemarks, seeing as how Applejack is still in school and has her cutie mark. Really helps in figuring where in the timeline this takes place and I appreciate that. :)

[JinxTJL]

10804798
Gee, what makes you think that?

That's obviously not what's happening here, because nobody in the history of the word has ever lied to themselves, right?

He clearly just hates Applejack with a burning passion, and there's nothing else to be said about it.

[Teraunce]

In deep space no one can hear you whinge.

[Herald of Opera]

10804802
And that means the librarian isn't named or described because were we ever even shown who that was before Twilight took over? And do they have a canon name if we were?

[Direct Access]

Ohhh, this one really had Oompf to it.

[Spellflame]

Practice your evil face in the mirror
Rule of villainy #1

[Jedi10549]

Do it, you won't.

You're right, I would never-
Fck.

[Munro]

oh my god, that was hilarious

[Venerable Ro]

Or something.

Pretty much sums him up right now. He's a walking testament to why ponies can't be trusted with the Goth movement.

"Does my scary face really look like that?"

Bro, you looked like someone got you with the Curse of Constipation.

[Pharaoh]

But if anypony just asked what he thought of her, he would say she was incredibly ugly . He would say that he hated the dumb orange apple pony. He would say that he didn't like her long, blonde mane that caught the light in a near-perfect facsimile of a beautiful meadow's day. That he didn't enjoy the way that she set it in a ponytail so that her soft, lovely face was always in view. He would say that the subtle orange shades of her coat were an eyesore and that they certainly didn't remind him of a sunset. And he would, above all else, condemn those deep green eyes that sparkled in the sunlight like perfect emeralds.

This is almost perfect.