Necromancy is one of eight schools of magic in D&D. The eight schools, as they are known today, were - as far as I can tell - introduced in AD&D 1e, with each spell's description listing the school to which it belonged. Actual descriptions of the schools of magic and what they represent would have to wait for AD&D 2e, which provides the following language about necromancy:
Necromancy is one of the most restrictive of all spell schools. It deals with dead things or the restoration of life, limbs, or vitality to living creatures. Although a small school, its spells tend to be powerful. Given the risks of the adventuring world, necromantic spells are considered quite useful.
Necromancy's portfolio in 2e is about what one would expect: raising the dead, draining the vitality of others (without killing them necessarily), summoning or controlling the corporeal dead and spirits, and death-dealing magic like death spell and finger of death. A few oddballs exist such as contagion (diseases are a form of life), magic jar (which manipulates the soul, i.e. the spiritual essence of a creature), and clone (which involves the creation of a new life).
Clerics in 2e also have access to the necromantic sphere of influence, which includes many of the same or similar spells, but also a great deal of curative magic: cure blindness and deafness, cure disease, raise dead, regenerate, reincarnate, etc. Another sphere, healing, also contains a number of spells which are in the necromancy school (yes, cleric spells are organized both by school and by sphere, for some reason), including all of the cure wounds spells, slow poison and neutralize poison, and heal.
The next description of necromancy I'll examine is from 5e. It's much the same as the 2e description, with one exception:
Necromancy spells manipulate the energies of life and death. Such spells can grant an extra reserve of life force, drain the life energy from another creature, create the undead, or even bring the dead back to life.
Creating the undead through the use of necromancy spells such as animate dead is not a good act, and only evil casters use such spells frequently.
Here, the creation of undead is explicitly identified as being an evil act.
Is Necromancy Evil?
This is a debate that people love to have, and I'm not going to get into the weeds of it, beyond saying that this is entirely an issue of setting. In 2e, creating undead is not Evil because the basic undead - skeletons and zombies - are Neutral in alignment; whether they are "Good" or "Evil" is entirely dependent upon what their creator does with them.
In 5e, creating undead is Evil because these creatures are suffused with life-hating negative energy. The caster is creating a creature that is Evil - regardless of what the caster intends to do with the undead, they are bringing an Evil creature into the world, which is an Evil thing to do, according to D&D's morality.
That's just baseline, vanilla 5e. The DM can do anything they want with their setting, including making basic undead creatures Neutral by default, thus eliminating the inherent Evilness of creating such creatures. Whether or not society at large frowns upon such acts is again entirely up to the DM.
It may be accepted that the crown animates the dead to perform menial labor or serve in the military, and this may be viewed as a patriotic service which every citizen (or at least the poor ones) anticipates after death. Simultaneously, it may be frowned upon when independent necromancers break into ancestral tombs and animate the dead without proper authorization. I imagine most common folk don't appreciate the necromancer who comes to the village with a menagerie of rotting corpses in tow, regardless of whether or not the gods care.
Necromancy, Black Magic, and Reversible Spells
Another key difference between AD&D's necromancy and modern D&D's necromancy is in spell classification. In 3e, many healing spells were reclassified from necromancy to conjuration. In 5e, they now fall into the evocation school - cure wounds, healing word, heal, etc. Evocation is the school of magic which channels energy from different planes - in this case, the caster is channeling positive energy from the Positive Energy Plane. Sure.
Necromancy in 5e retains most of the spells which restore the dead to life - revivify, raise dead, and resurrection. Reincarnate has been relocated to transmutation. This doesn't make a lot of sense, since the spell "forms a new adult body for [a dead humanoid creature] and then calls the soul to enter that body." This sounds more like a fusion of conjuration and necromancy - the caster is creating a new body (conjuration) and putting the dead creature's soul into it (necromancy). They're not actually transforming the original body (which would be transmutation). The clone spell (which remains a necromancy spell in 5e) also creates a new body for a creature, so it seems safe to say that reincarnate should still be a necromancy spell.
The big difference is that in 5e, necromancy seems to be associated with "black magic". Despite the description of the school stating only that creating undead is Evil, the actual spells which are in the school instead seem to suggest that the practice of necromancy in most forms is Evil - it is now, to some extent, the magic of causing fear (cause fear - which "awaken[s] the sense of mortality" in a creature in order to elicit magical fear) and cursing (bestow curse, blindness/deafness, and eyebite - for some reason, similar cursing spells like bane and hex are instead in the enchantment school).
I suspect that to some extent, this is because 5e does not have the concept of reversible spells. As far back as OD&D, curses were possible by way of casting a reversed bless spell. Finger of death was a reversed raise dead. In AD&D, cause fear was a reversed remove fear. In these versions of D&D, only Evil clerics use the reversed versions of spells, suggesting that reversed spells were solely in the realm of black magic. With the loss of reversible spells, the Evil magic had to go somewhere, so it was distributed into a couple of odd schools, one of which is necromancy.
Does that make necromancy Evil? I don't know. Is summoning a demon Evil? Is scrying on someone during their most intimate moments Evil? Is mind-controlling someone Evil? What about blowing someone up with a fireball, creating an image of their greatest fear and scaring them to death, or "permanently" turning them into a fly?
Magic in all its forms is terrifying. Even when it's used in the name of "Good", the effects are such that, even in dire circumstances, I doubt that the ends totally justify the means. Players characters are quick to do all these nasty things - and often take great delight in doing so. I don't see much point in hand wringing about necromancy in particular.
The Necromancer
Although schools of magic weren't delineated until AD&D, the term "necromancer" in D&D dates back to 1974 and Book I: Men & Magic, where "Necromancer" is the title bestowed upon 10th-level magic-users (the level immediately preceding becoming a true wizard, suggesting that necromancers are quite powerful in this implied setting).
AD&D 1e had the illusionist class, which is the first inkling of the specialist wizard class that was to come in 2e. In 2e, specialists (including necromancers) have an increased chance to learn spells from their chosen school of magic and to create new spells which fall into their school. Their opponents suffer a -1 penalty to saving throws against spells from their chosen school, and the specialist receives a +1 bonus to saving throws against spell from their school. This affects spells like chill touch, spectral hand, and hold undead.
The 2e necromancer cannot cast spells from the enchantment and illusion schools, as they are schools of opposition for necromancers. I've written briefly before about how I think the restrictions imposed by schools of opposition should be interpreted. In this case, why would a wizard who's preoccupied entirely with the dead care to concern themselves with enchantment magic, which typically only influences the living? In 2e, most undead are entirely unaffected by mind-altering magic of any kind, which would also explain why the necromancer doesn't care to study illusions.
In 5e, the necromancer (along with the other specialists) returns as one of the eight subclasses (Arcane Traditions) available to wizards in the PHB. Necromancers regain hit points whenever they kill a creature with magic (earning 50% more hit points when using a necromancy spell to do so), they can create one additional skeleton or zombie when casting animate dead (which they learn for free, albeit a level later than they otherwise would if they simply picked it as one of their new spells on a level up), their undead are tougher and hit harder, they gain resistance to necrotic damage and immunity to maximum HP reduction (5e's watered-down version of the undead's infamous level draining powers of yore), and eventually, they can control even the more powerful undead which they cannot create themselves, such as liches, mummy lords, and vampires.
Not too bad, but beyond those first two features, there isn't much incentive to actually use necromancy spells. As I described in my previous post on specialist spellcasters, like most "specialists", the necromancer is likely to pick the few spells that benefit from their handful of features (in this case, any damaging necromancy spells and any spells which create undead). Otherwise, their spell selection probably looks like any other wizard's.
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Army of Darkness
Can a necromancer in D&D actually command an undead army? Realistically, it is highly campaign-and DM-dependent. Theoretically, according to Reddit's calculations, the answer is yes. But that's Reddit - people there only think/talk/complain about D&D on the internet, but I am grateful to them for doing the arduous theory-crafting while normal people actually play the game they like with their friends.
If I was going to play a necromancer, I'd pay close attention to undead-maxing, and I'd make sure to take every opportunity to add to my collection. The best way to do this without having to worry about reasserting control over the undead every day is to simply kill every enemy humanoid encountered with finger of death, which turns said humanoids into zombies permanently under the caster's control.
I'd make sure to secure a headquarters for myself wherever the party's base of operations was, and I'd be pilfering piles of bones and black onyx stones from every dungeon I could find. My downtime and spell slots would be spent raising the dead and learning more powerful spells to do so.
If I was really serious about having an undead army, I'd spend some time tracking down the wand of Orcus, which can summon 500 hit points of skeletons and zombies per day (unfortunately, they only last until dawn).
Some DMs might be upset if their necromancer player tried to run around with 100+ undead minions, but if I had a player who was willing to do the math, show their work, and put in the in-game time and dedication, I'd be nothing but excited to help them pull it off.
Healing the Wounded, Raising the Dead
I get that wizards aren't supposed to heal people - it's not their role in the game, and niches should be protected so that the classes each retain their archetypal identities. However, I don't think it would be the end of the world if necromancers, at the very least, could heal and raise the dead (i.e., not as an undead creature). That strikes me as the main reason a wizard in a fantasy world would choose to become a necromancer specifically, with all the stigma potentially attached to it - it gets you access to things the other schools don't.
I do think spells which raise the dead kind of suck - read more about how to make it interesting at Prismatic Wasteland, which is what got me thinking about this topic to begin with. However I also kind of like the silly, comic book-y, video game-y triviality with which characters can perish and then return to life. I like that, like worrying about food, water, torches, magic item identification, overland travel, getting lost, and many other low-level concerns, death is simply another setback (albeit an extreme one) which characters can more or less cease to worry about after a certain point in the game. I like a fantasy world where one can go to the local temple and pay a boatload of gold to defy Death and the gods themselves, all for the sake of convenience and getting back to playing the game. However, even this has its limits.
I use a few rules from AD&D to spice up resurrection in my 5e games: resurrection survival chance and permanent Constitution loss. In AD&D, a character has a percentage chance of being successfully raised from the dead determined by their Constitution score (from 40% with a Constitution of 3 to 100% with a Constitution of 18). A failed roll indicates that the character is dead forever.
Furthermore, the character's Constitution score is a limit on the number of times they can be raised from the dead - each time they die, their Constitution is reduced by 1, which in turn affects their chance of later being raised from the dead, because the resurrection survival chance is dependent on Constitution.
Note that this means that technically, a character with Constitution 15 can be raised from the dead 15 times. After the 15th time, their Constitution is now 0 - I have no idea how this is supposed to work, and would rule instead that a dead character is permanently dead if their Constitution score is 1 at the time of death. I imagine that a player would have to be pretty bad (or extremely good, depending on one's goals of play) at D&D to have a character die this many times, so it would probably never come up anyway.
In 5e, I import the Constitution reduction when raised from the dead (I actually make it -2 Constitution each time a character is raised, since death is fairly rare, and this both ensures that the character's ability score modifier is actually affected and reduces the overall number of times that the character can be raised). I also import resurrection survival checks - characters who are raised from the dead must succeed on a DC 10 Constitution saving throw or be permanently dead. The DC increases by 5 each time the character dies. I could make it a Constitution check, if I wanted it to be harder, but the rule is pretty harsh as is, and it being a saving throw makes certain classes (such as barbarians and fighters) easier to raise, which I do like.
Clone Wars
Clone is a nifty spell. From 5e:
This spell grows an inert duplicate of a living, Medium creature as a safeguard against death. This clone forms inside a sealed vessel and grows to full size and maturity after 120 days; you can also choose to have the clone be a younger version of the same creature. It remains inert and endures indefinitely, as long as its vessel remains undisturbed.
At any time after the clone matures, if the original creature dies, its soul transfers to the clone, provided that the soul is free and willing to return. The clone is physically identical to the original and has the same personality, memories, and abilities, but none of the original’s equipment. The original creature’s physical remains, if they still exist, become inert and can’t thereafter be restored to life, since the creature’s soul is elsewhere.
I'm not really sure why it's limited to just medium-sized creatures. The necromancer should be able to clone a dragon, if they can get access to some of its flesh. Why not? Can't make a big enough urn?
The 120-day gestation period and expensive material components do beg the question as to why this is any better than, say, revivify, raise dead, or resurrection. My guess is that it's because all of those spells require an intact body, and clone does not. True resurrection, which also doesn't require a body, is a 9th-level spell, so clone (an 8th-level spell) comes earlier. Plus, it's just cool and weird. Any self-respecting wizard of mine (it's a wizard-only spell, barring bards' Magical Secrets) is going to have one of these bad boys lined up at all times during the late stages of a campaign.
But wait - as is often the case, the AD&D version of this spell is way cooler. From 2e:
This spell creates a duplicate of a human, demihuman, or humanoid creature. This clone is in most respects the duplicate of the individual, complete to the level of experience, memories, etc. However, the duplicate really is the person, so if the original and a duplicate exist at the same time, each knows of the other's existence; the original person and the clone will each desire to do away with the other, for such an alter-ego is unbearable to both. If one cannot destroy the other, one will go insane and destroy itself (90% likely to be the clone), or possibly both will become mad and destroy themselves (2% chance). These events nearly always occur within one week of the dual existence.
Note that the clone is the person as he existed at the time at which the flesh was taken for the spell component, and all subsequent knowledge, experience, etc., is totally unknown to the clone. The clone is a physical duplicate, and possessions of the original are another matter entirely. A clone takes 2d4 months to grow, and only after that time is dual existence established. Furthermore, the clone has one less Constitution point than the body it was cloned from; the cloning fails if the clone would have a Constitution of 0.
The material component of the spell is a small piece of the flesh from the person to be duplicated.
This is fantastic. AD&D's clone creates an actual clone, rather than an inert backup body. The clone and, to a lesser extent, the magic-user, cannot bear to exist simultaneously. They will destroy each other or go mad and destroy themselves. I have a roster of wizard characters who I play in 5e, who all look alike and hate one another, and their secret is that they're all clones of an AD&D wizard (technically, they would have gone mad and destroyed themselves by now, but eh).
Okay, so the magic-user can make a clone. What's the point if they can't use their clone as a duplicate of themselves, subject to their whims? Why would I want to make something that will try to destroy me or cause me to destroy myself?
First, I see this version of clone as a true last resort - a clone is something a magic-user prepares when they're almost certain that they're marching to their doom. So long as the clone doesn't finish its gestation until after the original wizard is dead, it's fine. Alternatively, clone can still be a backup waiting in the wings, but if the clone has been gestating for about two months and the magic-user is still alive, they should probably destroy the clone and get started on a new one, just to be safe.
Second, why not use clone to destroy one's enemies? If the magic-user can somehow acquire the flesh of a foe, the resulting clone will be Hell-bent on destroying their alter-ego. If the party's goals align with the clone's (i.e., they too are trying to destroy the alter-ego), the party now has a new ally in the form of their enemy's exact duplicate. They just have to destroy the original before the clone goes mad.
The clone has all of the memories of its original self, however, so once the original is destroyed, the clone might turn out to also not like the party very much, depending on the circumstances. But hey, the party helped the clone out - surely that must be worth something!
Finger of Unconsciousness
Finger of death sucks in 5e. I'll explain why.
You send negative energy coursing through a creature that you can see within range, causing it searing pain. The target must make a Constitution saving throw. It takes 7d8 + 30 necrotic damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.
A humanoid killed by this spell rises at the start of your next turn as a zombie that is permanently under your command, following your verbal orders to the best of its ability.
Finger of death doesn't kill characters (except by massive damage). A character reduced to 0 HP by the spell starts making death saving throws. A monster or NPC reduced to 0 HP by the spell (usually) dies outright. This should be worded more like disintegrate:
A creature targeted by this spell must make a Dexterity saving throw. On a failed save, the target takes 10d6 + 40 force damage. The target is disintegrated if this damage leaves it with 0 hit points.
Finger of death should say "The target is dead if this damage leaves it with 0 hit points." And it does just that in my 5e games. More player characters should become zombies under the DM's control.
Furthermore, as with clone, I don't see why this should only zombify humanoid creatures. I want to slay a dragon with this spell and have a zombie dragon under my control.
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| "I worked hard for this!" |
Enlich Yourself
No discussion of necromancy would be complete without touching on lichdom, the ultimate aspiration of evil spellcasters the world over. After all, there's no other way for a creature to live forever, right?
Uh yeah, well, resurrection magic and clone exist, sure, but resurrection requires that the spellcaster has loyal friends or followers who will raise their evil ass, and clones are susceptible to pesky adventurers breaking into the spellcaster's stronghold and smashing all their clone vats (plus, my 5e house rule about Constitution loss for resurrection applies to clones as well, so that isn't sustainable forever, either).
But finding out where a lich is hiding its phylactery, acquiring it, figuring out how to destroy it, and actually doing it? That's hard. That's why a spellcaster becomes a lich - that, and, like, all the other benefits. Based on the statblock, I'd say that a 5e character who becomes a lich gains the following benefits:
- Natural AC of 14 + Dex
- Constitution saving throw proficiency (assuming the 5e lich's proficiency with Intelligence and Wisdom saving throws is due to being a wizard)
- Resistance to cold, lightning, and necrotic damage
- Immunity to poison and nonmagical weapon attacks
- Immunity to exhaustion and the charmed, frightened, paralyzed, and poisoned conditions
- 120-foot truesight
- Resistance to turn undead
- The Paralyzing Touch attack
In order to become a lich, the wizard must prepare its phylactery by the use of the enchant an item, magic jar, permanency, and reincarnation spells. The phylactery, which can be almost any manner of object, must be of the finest craftsmanship and materials with a value of not less than 1,500 gold pieces per level of the wizard. Once this object is created, the would-be lich must craft a potion of extreme toxicity, which is then enchanted with the following spells: wraithform, permanency, cone of cold, feign death, and animate dead. When next the moon is full, the potion is imbibed. Rather than death, the potion causes the wizard to undergo a transformation into its new state. A system shock survival throw is required, with failure indicating an error in the creation of the potion which kills the wizard and renders him forever dead.
When one of the players in my 5e game wanted their character to become a lich, I imported these rules almost exactly (changing some of the spells that don't exist in 5e like enchant an item to magic weapon, wraithform to etherealness, and getting rid of permanency - which should exist in 5e, but that's a topic for another time). Since a would-be lich needs to be able to cast 9th-level spells, the phylactery has to be worth at least about 25,000 gold. Since crafting in 5e is done in 50 gold piece increments per week, it takes something like 10 years to create a suitable phylactery. Luckily, multiple people can work on a single item to reduce the time.
The player character went about creating a sycophantic cult and infiltrating the necessary artisan's guild so that they had a roster of fanatically loyal artisans. Other cultists began robbing the homes of the nobility to finance the project, and got into a turf war with a gang of wererats, who were a threat to meddle in the character's machinations.
Over something like a year and a half of real-world time, the player character gradually sunk money into the phylactery's construction. They also had to build an alchemical laboratory in order to brew the transformation potion, but the cost of this was relatively inconsequential.
Finally, when the phylactery and potion were ready and the moon was full, they drank the potion in the secret vaults beneath the cult's hideout. They needed to pass a DC 30 Constitution saving throw to survive. Anticipating this, they had recruited a number of NPC spellcasters and other allies to give them as good a chance as possible. One of the most tense moments of the three-year campaign came when the player rolled the die...
They succeeded! Their character was now a lich, and they had worked for it and earned it in the fiction. It's one of my favorite moments as a DM.
Then, the player asked how they might go about acquiring the legendary, soul-eating sword, Blackrazor, and how they might create a new spell, like magic jar or soul cage, which could trap the soul of a creature slain by Blackrazor inside of an enchanted gem affixed to the sword, which would then send the soul directly to their phylactery for feeding. So, I got to figuring out how that might work, and how the player could make it a reality.
Gotta love necromancers!
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