Necromancer Quotes

“Mostly, it’s a matter of getting other people to do your work for you. Pushing the right idiots into doing the right stupid things at the right time.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“You burn down an entire town, and don’t even invoke me?” an angry female voice asked from behind me.
“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” I shrugged, bending back to my work.
“It was a huge whopping fire!” she snorted. “I’m a fire goddess! That’s my primal function! Flaming hells, you were using thermite! Thermite!” she repeated. “How would I not be interested?”
“Did no one else invoke you?” I asked, as I continued to work.
“Certainly! Hundreds did! There was a fire elemental rolling around in there for a while! I showed up personally! But did my most famous lay worshipper bother to invoke me, and share the exquisite bliss of thousands of degrees of pure combustible magic? Minalan!” she pleaded. “Are you losing interest in me?”
“Now, now,” I chuckled, “the truth is I was just busy. Astyral was showing off, and I had to give him my full attention. Having a pretty goddess around, making sex noises while she watched the blaze, might have been distracting.”
“I don’t make sex noises!” she declared, defensively. “I . . . I just . . I’m a fire goddess, it’s what I do!” she said, nearly whining.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“No matter what else happened, I could count on Alya and the kids surviving this attack. That gave me
confidence.
Me? That was another story. I was about to do something stupid.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“All life is an unforeseen consequence,” he said, with divine smugness.  “You wanna write that down?  That one’s quotable!”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“Right about here will do,” I decided.  I cast a magelight to illuminate the place.  The first faint glow of dawn was arising along the horizon in the east, but it was still as dark as a miner’s butt.  “When my father heard that I was having a girl, he gave me some advice,” I said, stripping off my mantle.  “As the father of five daughter’s himself, he was full of sage wisdom on the subject of raising girls.” “Are they any different than raising boys?” “Worlds apart,” I nodded.  “But he said there are some things that you can count on with girls,” I continued, philosophically.  “When a young father has a girl, he’s strong.  By the time she grows into a lovely young woman, age takes a toll on a man.  He’s not as strong.  “So . . . when a young woman enters courting age, you might not be as hale as you are now, my friend.  And you will find the nights colder in your bones.” “You . . . you fear I won’t have the strength to show him the door?”  He still looked confused.  And a little drunk.  As big as he is, Arborn is a lightweight when it comes to his cups.   “Oh, no.  When the wrong sort of suitor shows interest in your daughter,” I explained, as I took out the hoxter wand, “then passion can provide the strength you need to contend with the situation.  “But passion fades, when the deed is done.  And then you are left with but your decrepit strength, and a long night of work ahead.”  I manifested two shovels from the hoxter.  “My father told me that the wise father of any daughter has the foresight to dig the hole while he’s still young and strong.  It saves the trouble of a long night, when you are old and weary.” “A hole?  For . . .?” “My father assures me this is effective: for someone who is not impressed by being shown a hole an attentive father dug before he was born and intended for him, at need,” I supplied.  “Mine is behind the stable at the castle.  If a young man is worrisome, I’ll show him the hole, and explain the purpose.  You have three daughters.  That’s three holes.  I’ll help you dig.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“One who has been forced to dabble in politics does well to observe the political movements of others. At least that was what Pentandra told me. And she’s always right. She told me that, too.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“I got the hell out of there. I have five sisters. Moody teenage girls scare me.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“That would explain its recent”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“Just as you shouldn’t shirk from your responsibilities, neither should you unfairly shoulder those which aren’t yours to bear,”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“You have an intriguing and . . . unusual perspective on things sometimes, Minalan,” he reflected, after smoking for a moment. “I’m a wizard,” I shrugged.  “Thinking up elaborate rationalizations is my bread and butter.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“What’s our situation?” “The technical military term for what we’re doing is hiding,” Terleman lectured.  “We’re where the enemy isn’t, hoping that they don’t notice us.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“So, what did you tell him?” “I . . . I told him that I . . . I was fond of him, but I saw . . . no future in romance between us,” she coughed out.  “That my heart was not invested in him.” “Well, that might explain his sudden departure,” I agreed, a few things from our brief, tense conversation becoming clearer.  “You do realize that he would have quit Sevendor long ago, if he had not held out hope for your heart?” “That’s what he said!” she almost screamed.  “In fact,” I continued, apologetically, “he put himself in grave danger last summer, helping Tyndal and Rondal in Enultramar, purely in an effort to attract your attention.” “I never asked him to do that!” she fumed. “Of course you didn’t.  But that attempt . . . failed,” I said, as objectively as possible.  “I’m sure the boy wanted the assurance that his efforts were not in vain before he made any further decisions.”  I knew it was small comfort to my sobbing apprentice, but she needed to understand the truth.  “When you did not return his affections after all he has done to impress you, and you told him in certain terms that it was a fruitless endeavor, what did you expect him to do?” “No just pack up and leave! He won’t respond to me, mind-to-mind, and I have no idea where he is!” “He’s the one who figured out how to use the Alkan Ways, on his own,” I reminded her.  “I doubt he’s lingering near Sevendor.  Or even in the Riverlands.” “So where did he go?  I need to talk to him!” “And say what?” I asked.  “That you’ve changed your mind?  That you’ve found love in your heart in his absence that his presence could not produce?” I suggested. “That he doesn’t have to run away from me, just because I’m not in love with him!” “Clearly, he feels differently about that,” I pointed out.  “Asking a man with a broken heart to be proximate to the one who broke it . . . that seems a cruel request, Dara.” “But I didn’t mean to break his heart!  Now everyone thinks I drove him away!  Banamor is pissed with me, Sire Cei isn’t happy that he’s lost one of his best aides, and the enchanters in town all hate me!  Nattia isn’t even speaking to me!  She thinks I was unfair to him!” “You may not have meant to do it, but it is done.  Gareth is a very, very smart man, Dara.  He’s one of the most intuitive thaumaturges I know, and a brilliant enchanter.  He’s as determined as Azar when it comes to achieving what he wants.  And when he learns that what he wants he cannot have, he's smart enough to know that lingering in your shadow, pining for what cannot be, is a torture he cannot bear.” “But I hold his friendship in the highest esteem!” she protested.  “He was instrumental in the hawk project!  He’s been a constant help to me, and come to my aid faithfully!” “Did you think he did that out of the goodness of his heart?” I felt compelled to ask.  “Oh, he’s a wholesome and worthy lad, don’t mistake me.  But if you don’t return his affections, then continuing to be at your call is . . . well, it’s humiliating, Dara.  Especially when you have other suitors you hold in more favor, nearby.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“But . . . this door is allayed with a sign,” Onranion pointed out, waving his hand in front of it and singing a few words. A pale blue Alkan glyph appeared.
“What does it say?”
“Our language indicates, with layers of inference and context, a particular meaning,” Onranion lectured. “Our symbols don’t merely ‘say’, they truly inform. But only those who understand those subtle contexts, those who can make the proper inferences of meaning – and all of the possible shades of that meaning.”
“So what subtle concept does this particular glyph indicate?” asked Mavone, studying the squiggly blue line dancing in the air.
“‘To the Dungeon,’” supplied Lilastien, with a snicker.
“And the context?” prompted Hance.
“Uh . . . ‘this way' to the dungeon? It’s down 'these' stairs?’” suggested Mavone.
“More or less,” Onranion shrugged.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“Yes, but he faces a human mage with great power and no idea what he’s doing,” I boasted. “That has sunk islands, before. Entire civilizations.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“A few of the lads on the walls dared to applaud with rude gestures, insults, and – in one bold case – the quick dropping of armor to present their buttocks to the dark lords of Olum Seheri. It was a foolhardy and dangerous display, but I could appreciate that, too.
When else did the man have the chance to moon not one but two dark lords? If he survived this, he’d never have to buy another drink in his life.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“Behold, the Cavern of Ages,” Lord Aeratas pronounced, reverently. “Depository of our ancestors’ enneagrams, held within the living stone for all eternity.”
“It smells a bit . . . mildewy,” commented Azhguri, wrinkling his nose.
“Ancient sacred caverns tend to be that way,” I confided. “You should see the gurvani’s . . .”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“We have the aid and alliance of an ancient and wise people,” Mavone, suggested.
“Don’t take me as an example,” Onranion hurried to say. “The rest of us are really quite nice.”
“A people whose own unfortunate history is the spawn of our current misfortune,” Pentandra recalled.
“Most of the rest of us are quite nice,” Onranion corrected, nervously.
“And some of you are fanatical undead arseholes whose millennia-long imprisonment for magical ethics violations conspired to stir up a genocidal war against us,” Pentandra continued.
“They were undeniably evil,” Onranion agreed. “And soundly punished by the proper authorities. The Alka Alon Council.”
“The same authorities who withdrew their support and guidance for my people while their civilization crumbled, keeping us in purposeful ignorance in an effort to keep us divided and make us more manageable,” Pentandra accused, crossly. There was a long pause, as the Alkan considered her words.
“Well, I’m quite charming,” Onranion offered, dismayed, after pausing to consider.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer

“I didn’t know why. They were the largest assemblage of magical badasses the world had ever seen.”
― Terry Mancour, Necromancer