There are simple minded plebeians who will tell you that necromancy is an evil abomination. A trade of grave robbers and triplet witches hovering over a cauldron of brackish soup. Furthermore, they will state in the whiney wheeze of the self righteous, that the necromantic arts are akin to devil worship, murder, cannibalism, and shadowy charlatans whose illusions appear to make large buildings disappear for the amusement of the self same self-righteous plebs. All of which is both shockingly true and astonishingly false.

Over the years I have met many necromancers who indeed were, though usually not at the same time, cannibals, charlatans and devil worshipers. Some have even amused the ruffian crowds, or been little better than gadabouts of sorcery, flitting from one discipline to another. The latter never able to find the power they so desperately crave. However, there are a few who cannot be fit in the street corner prophet's ramblings of evil and debauchery. Individuals like myself whose practice of necromancy is selfless. The acts of good people looking for ways to drag the most benighted of us into the light of health, happiness, and eternal reward.

My name is Thomas Walker, but most call me Reverend Walker. A most unfortunate nick name which I received due to my constant "preaching" of the good of mankind and its potential. Its not easy being smart, powerful, and altruistic. Those whose sense of self worth is debased by the goodness of others seek to do harm to those of kind hearts. Thus cruel men of little intellect have called me "reverend". It's not easy being smart, kind, and altruistic.

Why do you look at me like that? Like a mother who has discovered her child skinning live squirrels for sport? Does not your own spiritual tradition involve necromancy? Did not your high priest die, and then raise from the dead in true necromantic tradition? Please, cease your outraged bellowing, and listen to my discourse with reason. Necromancy is not about worshipping devils. It requires not the consuming of human flesh (hearts, brains, or otherwise). Necromancy certainly does not involve THAT, kind sirs!

Necromancy is the study of life. Life I say. Learning to harness life, to help others. With necromancy I can heal the sick, clear the befuddled mind, and even on rare occasion bring life to the dead. Nearly fifty years I have devoted to helping others by practicing this most difficult craft. Would you burn your physician at the stake simply because you do not understand the benefits of a well applied brace of leaches? I dare say you would not.

Certainly, I can understand the righteous tortures of spirit, mind and body inflicted on Georgos the Defiler. Never more vile a practitioner of evil magics have I ever met. Yes, I met him once. Only briefly. I had hoped to convince him of the error of his ways. Fortunately, his escape from my careful proselytization led him into your most firm and calloused arms of justice. The rack, the lady, the wheel, and the stake. These things and more did you meet out to the Defiler blinded by your desire for justice and swift atonement. No man more greatly deserved your attentions. What did he do again? oh yes, the cows. How can a town survive if the cows give sour milk?

However, in this my own case, I must protest. The cows' milk is sweet as it ever has been. The light of your torches is a natural orange and red. Not a blue flicker among this august assemblage of light giving faggots may be seen. No children are missing, no livestock plundered, and no red moon or blackened waters benight this fair town. how then do you tie me to this stake surrounded by a great mound of kindling? On what charges of harm can you detest me so? I, who have only ever sought to do good?

Never mind your righteous posturing, and your simpering allegory. I am bored with you all, and truth be known, over warmed by your conflagration of torches. I must make my leave of you. For if my ears do not deceive me, I hear the sounds of young ladies feinting and brave men fleeing. Yes! There is the sound of panic and chaos. Flee now plebs. My flock, my followers, my children come! Foolish harbingers of justice! You cannot kill that which is already without life! Eat their bones, my children! Eat their bones!

It's not easy being smart, powerful, and altruistic.