>>171022 >>171024>>171025"No... I think some ado is necessary. You need to know where you are, and what we are doing here. This is Equestria. The land of magic and Harmony. The adoptive Homeland of Ponykind. The land that, for a thousand years, was ruled by ageless princesses with the power to move celestial bodies. Whose Paragons yield powers derived directly from the spiritual force of the universe. And this is Jim Haykins University's School of Medicine, the premier medical school in all of Equestria. Do you understand that? This is the top medical school in Equestria. Not Hayward. Not Manhattan University. Not Trottard over in Canterlot. Not any school in the Crystal City, nor anywhere else in Equestria. Right here, in Baltimare. This very building. This is where the most talented students of medicine and medicinal magic come to study - where elite doctors wish to claim a degree.
This Medical School is not where rich ponies send their pampered trust fund colts to study when they are done with preparatory school and need some place to go 'make connections' while they get a pointless degree that lets them go become a bureaucrat, or take a job in the family business, or become an absentee landlord as they lounge around cafes and bordellos in Aquellia. No. When your precious, one and only colt - whom you've poured your heart and soul and riches into - the last of your bloodline, the only heir to your ancient family lands given by Commander Hurricane as a part of the Pegasopolis claim for your knight ancestor's valiant deeds in the fight against the griffins a millennia ago - when he is stabbed through the back by the stinger of a Manticore and is minutes away from death and extinguishing your aristocratic bloodline forever - Jim Haykins University School of Medicine is where you pray to whatever gods may be that the doctor treating your colt learned the necromantic art of life energy drainage, so that he may lower your colt's heartrate
just enough to stop the spread of the poison, and prevent him from dying of hemorrhagic shock just long enough for surgeons to stitch him up. Or when you find that the growth in your lung is indeed malign and about to metastasize, and it's too deep to remove surgically, you can take poison, or if you have the money, the power and the luck, you hire a necromancer trained at Jim Haykins to use a death inflicting magic on the cancerous mass. If your trip climbing Mount Everhoof didn't go quite as planned, and you find that your entire right rear hoof from the pastern down is frost bitten and dead, you can amputate, or you can have a Jim Haykins trained surgeon cut the blood veins and reanimate the dead the flesh, stopping decay and infection and letting you keep the hoof, if in a lesser capacity. The medical schools of Stalliongrad, Karthin, Rijekograd and Colthage brag when one of their professors received an education at Jim Haykins. That is who we are.
Your understanding of the life of a necromancer is, I assume, of a life living in decaying ruins in a cold waste beyond the artic circle under endless night, grateful for the ancient wall that keeps you safe from the paladin's blade. Or maybe it's of resurrecting chickens on a secluded hill in the forest, hoping that no mercenary or hunter will discover your secret. Or maybe it's of presenting yourself to the world as an eccentric antiquarian or an erudite mage, while conducting secret experiments in the basement, forever fearful that the inquisition may pry just a little too deeply into your affairs. You've accepted the idea that Necromancy is dark magic. And dark can only exist where the light is not, because any contact with light will always destroy the dark. So you must always hide from the light, lest it destroy you. That is not what we do here. We walk amongst the light with pride. No hiding from the world, and no hiding of the true self. We practice a magic that deals death, and that places in inanimate matter a force that imitates life in a crude mockery. And for that, we are praised. We are paid for by the government, by the nobles, and by the church, and they proud to be our patrons knowing what we do. When we encounter paladins, inquisitors, and yes, the Princesses, we tell them that we are necromancers, we tell them about our magic, and we smile as we accept their money, their kiss on our hooves, and an invitation to the gala. Because they know that our magic can sometimes give them something all of their money, their political power, their fame, and their 'light' magic cannot.
You may see this as slavery. I see it as freedom. And Orgone is as good as any necromancer of the Dread League, but he doesn't want to move to somewhere cold for work. We both prefer mild winters.
Here at the school, we specialize in two broad categories of necromantic magic. The first and most important is magic with a medical purpose. These include inflicting harm, inflicting death, vampirism, draining of the life force, and under certain conditions, reanimation. You may be surprised. The focus is always on precision, not raw power. Being able to reanimate a single dead heart is more valuable than commanding an army of zombies. The second large category is magic with a 'research' purpose. This means anything we want it to mean, though you have to be a very knowledgeable necromancer to persuade the dean your research is on the cutting edge. Sometimes, there is a third category - magic for the sake of security. This includes any help against roaming undead, unlicensed necromancers, haunts, and when the government comes around to the idea that maybe an army of the undead
is a good idea.
You can take classes in the Medical School, or the College of Arcane Sciences. As a research assistant, or a third-year medical student. It's about finding the right place for you. You are here because I know who you are. Well I don't. But I know what you are. And I appreciate it. I think you can appreciate the same of us here."