art by Brisineo

Today, we go even further down the rabbit hole. In conclusion to our exploration of reaper ponies and necromancy that I have touched on in my previous blogs, most notably "The Littlehorn Valley Recordings", I want to post a bit about the nature and workings of necromancy. (As usual, please remember that is headcanon, and need not be treated as canon.)

But first, I want to give a shout-out to the wonderful work being done by those participating in Bronies for Good. I particularly want to promote their latest effort, Summer o’ Good:

...we would like to encourage folks to participate in a good deeds drive. Find a local charity, volunteer, give blood, talk to your friends and collect old clothes they don’t need and donate them to a charitable organization. Sometimes the little things really do add up to make a big difference, and even though so many of us are geographically separated and may go about this in totally different ways, that doesn’t mean we can’t still shine together.

In Fallout: Equestria canon, there was one ultimate source of necromancy: the stars... at least according to zebra mythology, wherein the stars were believed to be cold, malevolent entities. Specifically, the four stars that are seen in the first episode of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic aiding Nightmare Moon's escape. In my expanded headcanon, I have introduced a second source: the spirits of death. The Reapers.

In the Equestrian Wasteland, little is known or understood about necromancy. What those like Littlepip have learned is that necromancy is alien -- it comes from an some outside source -- and it can be learned by pony and zebra alike. My last blog, "Good Pony and New Futures" sparked several comments regarding the headcanon revelation of a necromantic element to Wonderglue, that miraculous substance that can fuse seemingly any two surfaces together such that they become seemlessly one (a fusion only rivaled by the effects of pink cloud). I hinted in my replies that this revelation tied into a greater story, one about the true nature of necromancy. In the "Fallout: Beyond Equestria" game, this revelation about Wonderglue lead the group of ponies (and one griffin) to a very portentous meeting.

When Shatara looks up from the shotgun, he finds himself staring into the eyes of Death. The Reaper standing before him is unlike the others. Larger, non-skeletal -- in fact, a sleek musculature lies beneath a slick black coat. It lacks the horn, but instead stands on four legs. It's mane and tail are like black plasma, rippling out behind It. >> I am Sleipnir, first of the Reapers. You wished to see me. <<

Sleipnir is the Spirit of Death as Discord is the Spirit of Chaos. Sleipnir's progeny are the guardians of the afterworld. The guides of dead souls. Death spirits. Necromantic bargainers. They are tasked with helping the souls of the dead travel on to whatever lies beyond this life.

art by icekatze

The Crimson Caravan ponies and griffin spoke at length with Sleipnir, gaining a lot of understanding and insight into necromancy. Here are some of the questions they posed and the answers they received:

"So, I was wondering, you know, what does necromancy actually do? Does it have t' be, you know, possessions, soul rendin', and hurtin' others?" >> Necromancy is magic fueled by the raw energy of death. It takes many forms, depending on who is channeling it. <<

"So, uh...why make glue out of ponies?" >> I often do not comprehend the motions of mortals. Perhaps because they knew how. <<

"But they knew how because one of you deathpony-types told them how...why would they do that?" >> We... those you call Reapers... are spirits of death. Our power is, by nature, necromancy. We are the raw energy of death given form and sentience. Any power we give you to channel will be necromancy. But we do not chose the form that power takes. You do. This is why my... grandchild... could not tell you what you would gain from being offered necromancy. It did not know. <<

"Um. A-a-alright. So, um. What else can it do?" The shadows in the room deepen and seep. They melt and grow, connecting together like drops of water that get too close. Soon, the room is nothing but darkness, like everything has been painted black. The lights from PipBucks refuse to light more than a few inches of the appendages to which they are attached. In the darkness, images appear, figures of ponies and others... like mirages in the black. One image is a zebra waving a crooked staff adorned with feathers, the crook like a dreamcatcher with a black sapphire woven into the center. The zebra chants through the staff, waving it over powders, and the powders change color, darkening. A small grey unicorn with muddy-colored hair and a pair of scissors on his flank cases a spell, forming a ball of black, crackling energy. A sea-green pegasus swoops high through the air then dives... faster and faster... faster still as the air distorts around her. Glimpses of colors form and are bled black as she goes faster still until... >>>BOOOM<<< ...the sky explodes around her, darkness rippling out in an expanding black ring. And everywhere below, life withers and dies. >> We are the source. Or, I should say, a source of the power of death. Mortals are the channel. When a mortal becomes a necromancer, a part of their soul is... changed... so that our power may flow to them. A conduit. But it is the mortal's soul, and the mortal's inherent magical nature, that shapes the power... gives it... form. Most unicorns cast spells. Zebras infuse necromantic energies into things, or even attempt to bind death spirits. For the pegasi, necromancy naturally flows through the channels of their own magical abilities. <<

"None'a those were Earth Ponies. What do they do with it?" The scenes change, showing an earth pony hoof-crafting a hunting shotgun. Kid recognizes the weapon immediately, his named shotgun "Blood". The griffin Bonaparte hastily sketches a symbol on the wall with the ground dust of children's bones. A hoard of Academy Foals charging up the alley stop suddenly. They surround him and glare, but cannot approach. One conjures a thick cloud of pink, but the cloud dissipates as it nears the symbol and the griffin cowering under it. >> For some, particularly those whose magic are different and less overt, I have witnessed necromancy shaped by their natural talents. In the case of those you call earth ponies, their Special Talent usually informs how they wield the power we give them. For others, like griffins and minotaurs, it is similar, albeit harder to predict. The pony who ran this place was an earth pony. A chemist by talent. We did not tell her how to turn ponies into glue. We merely gave her necromancy. She... used that power... and told herself. <<

"So, it ain't the stuff itself, but the use of necromancy that makes folks do awful stuff."

"Wait...so this pony took on the powers of death it self, solely for the purpose of...making really sticky glue?" A new mirage forms. One of the incinerator, the smoke pouring out. The burning of thousands of desecrated bodies. An insect flies towards the factory, then drops dead. The view changes, showing Tragedy's End much as it is now. A large, white bird approaches the wall, but doesn't quite make it before falling from the sky. Stronger life forms -- a group of pegasi, an Enclave scout team -- actually make it into the base before succumbing. Simultaneously, a mirage of an almost identical set of buildings -- Wonderglue factor and incinerator -- pour smoke into the air above a vast, ugly swamp. The smoke descends, changing, becoming a neigh-impenetrable mist. >> Places like this... affect the veil between the world of life and the realm of death. Things are possible in places like this that are not elsewhere. Things are... affected. It is in places like these where new spirits of death are born. They are young. They need guidance least they go astray. I am here for them. The aid we seek is in helping those cross over who are unable to do so naturally, yet whose souls yearn for peace. We offer the power you call Necromancy to those willing to work for us in return when we need agents in the mortal world. We give it in exchange, and can stop doing so if the mortal attempts to... renege on its obligations. Other... agencies of death energy have... other ways of dealing with those who displease Them. << The mirages change. A red and scarlet earth pony is working on some sort of spyglass. She stops, muttering to herself shaking her head in horror as she realizes that she needs the fresh blood of a murdered foal to properly craft the lens. In the background, in the next room, stands a crib; the baby inside horribly deformed and kept alive only by magic -- the product of severe inbreeding amongst the swampfolk of Froggy Bottom Bog, the results so grotesque they would have slain the child had it not been "rescued" from them. Another image, this time Bonaparte with mortar and pestle, pulverizing the bones of an Academy Foal, identifiable by bits of her cloak still clinging to bone in the pile next to his workbench. These imagines fade. To the left, the mirage of a healthy yellow earth pony trots into view. To the right as a ghoul shuffles into view and begins a conversation with her.

>> These are life, perhaps not as life has always been, living as they should. <<

A small pink pony in a yellow environmental suit walks up, asking "Have you seen my mommy?" in a cute but oblivious voice as her eyes take on an unnatural pink glow.

>> This... is not. This is a soul trapped in a body that cannot truly live, prevented from moving on. <<

Sleipnir points to the deformed newborn in the crib, kept alive by magical life support.

>> As is that. <<

Its gaze turns towards the Academy Foals surrounding Bonaparte, kept on the edge of going feral by the unique magic of the Academy Foal named Joy.

>> As are those. <<

More figures appear in the darkness. Similar images of sadness and horror.

>> As are many more. These are the ones for whom we seek the aid of mortals in enchange for our gift. <<