The Priests of Rathma, or Necromancers to the common man, have always been feared due to their art: the raising and controlling of the dead. On the surface, mastering the magics that were the sole province of demons before Necromancers came along was a terrible and easily corrupted path to follow, yet they never fell to such corruption. Exactly why is uncertain since they guard their secrets religiously, but it is believed that the training they undergo is so disturbing that they are bled of all the emotions and vices that humans may fall prey to, deafening them to the promises of power that the demons almost certainly feed them.

While it is true that the Necromancers have never, and likely will never, become corrupted, there has been dissent among them. Twenty years prior to Diablo's defeat at the hands of the Wanderer, rumors of an uprising spread throughout their secret temples. A small group of radicals, feeling that Lord Rathma had been keeping the secret of immortality from them and that they were entitled to it, staged a revolt in a crude attempt to wrest it from him. Unfortunately for them, they learned what had kept Lord Rathma alive: the souls of mortal creatures periodically reinforcing his body, thereby prolonging his life. With their newfound knowledge, the radicals retreated to a distant land to escape retribution from their former brothers and sisters.

In this other land, called Nox, the renegade Necromancers established their own temple and went about exterminating the local fauna, but found animal souls did little to halt the march of time. To remedy this, they began preying upon humans, taking souls like the gods would tribute, and held Nox under a iron fist. Eventually, the humans grew tired of the Necromancers' reign and a great war broke out.

The war would have ended in Nox's defeat had a peerless weapon, the Staff of Oblivion, not been thrown into the chaos towards the end. Wielded by a warrior named Jandor, the Staff of Oblivion cut through the Necromancers' undead ranks like a hot blade through butter. It achieved this feat by turning the Necromancers' arts against them. It sucked their blackened souls from their bodies and stored them inside a magical orb mounted on the staff. With the defeat of the Necromancers, whom should bear the Staff became a subject of considerable debate between Nox's three factions. The Wizards claimed that such a powerful magical artifact belonged in their tower where it could be safely locked away, the Warriors felt that a weapon that had been wielded by one of their own was theirs by right to do with as they wished, and the Conjurers argued that the Staff should be destroyed since it was a blight upon the land and could only bring ruin. Jandor himself stepped forward to offer his solution. He disassembled the Staff of Oblivion, giving the pieces to each group. The Wizards were granted the Heart of Nox, the source of the Staff's power, the Warriors were given the Halberd of Horendus, named after their warlord and Jandor's mentor, and the Conjurers received the Weirdling Beast, a bizarre creature who fed upon pure energy and destroyed any metals upon contact. The final component, the Orb, which had been given to them by an unknown benefactor, was sent to another dimension via the powers of the Arch-Wizard Horvath.

For the next twenty years, Nox lived in peace. In Sanctuary, however, Diablo, the Lord of Terror, rose to power. The Priests of Rathma would have gladly joined in the campaign against the Lord of Terror had they not been concerned with an immense shockwave of magical energy from the North. This is where the story begins…

Somewhere along the trade road north of Dün Mir,

"It seems I will be spending another night beside the road." Yuri mused with an exasperated sigh. The reason for his frustration wasn't hard to understand. Yuri Boneweaver had been sent to Nox by Lord Rathma on a mission, but nowhere in the description of said mission had he been told that he would be walking for weeks on end. The odd trade caravan would have helped to speed the journey if they didn't take the long way around a Necromancer. It hadn't so bad once he had gotten outside of Sanctuary's borders since only the barest of rumors of Necromancers reached that far out, but, as he began to approach Nox, he began receiving stares of hatred and fear rather than of mere suspicion. At first he was able brush it off as Nox's people being isolationist in the extreme, but, the further in he got, the more he began to experience people's irrational hatred of him. He had been chased out of more than one hamlet a few hours after arriving and even been attacked by guards for the apparently inexcusable crime of entering an inn, hence his camping next to the road.

He passed the night fitfully, visions of an insane Priestess of Rathma plagued his dreams and the lingering image of an artifact that practically bled power haunted his mind upon waking. With a grunt he picked himself up and checked his bags to make certain that no one had stolen anything while he was asleep. Satisfied that everything was in its proper place, he set off for another day of travel. Yuri had just settled into the boredom being on the road cultivated when a giant of a man blocked his path. "Well hello there, friend," the giant drawled in a not-so-friendly manner, "I don't suppose that you have a few gold to spare?" he fingered the sword at his hip. Yuri backed up a short distance, "I'm sorry 'friend', but I need all I have. Will you let me pass?" "That's no good. No good at all. Now I'm gonna hafta kill you!" The brigand drew his sword, a weapon nearly as long as Yuri was tall, and let out a battle cry. Yuri jumped backward and was about to cast a spell in retaliation when a deafening shout echoed throughout the forest, breaking his concentration. A longer, quieter yell followed the first and a blur flew past the both of them, right into a tree. The blur, who he could now identify as a young man wearing leather armor stumbled backward and began mumbled something to himself, probably obscenities. The brigand simply stared at the man and began laughing so hard that he dropped his sword. "Don't laugh at me!" yelled the man in an embarrassed tone. "Now," he began dramatically in a vain attempt to regain his dignity, "leave that man alone!" he ordered, drawing a much less impressive blade than the one lying on the ground.

It was obvious that the sword he was using had been mass produced and had already been well-used by the time he received it. That, coupled with the man's relatively thin form and low-grade armor, convinced Yuri that this man wasn't a man at all, but a just kid playing knight. The brigand must have reached the same conclusion since his laughter went up a few decibels and he fell to the ground. The kid's face practically glowed red as he lowered his head, apparently in shame, but suddenly he charged forward again, this time slamming into the brigand and taking him for a ride. The would-be knight and brigand crashed into a tree, breaking the latter's spine. The kid shoved himself off of the corpse and turned to Yuri, "Hey, you alright?" the kid asked, walking towards him. "I am unharmed," he responded with a hint of suspicion in his voice, "Why did you aid me?" The kid looked at him with a confused expression on his face, "Is there a reason that I shouldn't have?" "I suppose there isn't one, but I thought that you noxites disliked people like me." "Aside from looking like a goth, I don't see anything wrong with you," the kid shrugged, "Hey, do you know if this road leads to Ix?" Yuri blinked once, What in the hell is a goth? "Ix?" he pulled out a map that he had bought from a merchant he met on the road, "I believe so. I take it by your garb that this wouldn't be a casual visit?"

The kid scratched the back of his head, looking uncertain. "Not really. The mayor asked the Fire Knights to help him with a crisis in Ix, but they sent me instead. Apparently Horendus thinks that I can do some good when one of his better Knights hasn't even come back yet." he said with roan. Fire Knights… I believe Lord Rathma mentioned them…

*Flashback*

"Boneweaver," Lord Rathma began, "where I am sending you lives under the rule of three factions, there were four, but one was destroyed during a recent and very bloody civil war. The most magically adept of these groups is the one called the Wizards, who are led by the Arch-Wizard, Horvath. On the opposite end of the magical spectrum, are the Warriors, led by an elite group called the Fire Knights, who, in turn, are ruled by their Warlord, Horendus. The third, and least understood group, is the Conjurers, who have no official leader, but look to the Master Conjurer Aldwyn for guidance.

Out of all of these groups, the Warriors are the least likely to respond favorably to your presence. They have forsaken magic in all of its forms and are openly hostile to those who rely on it. As such, if you ever encounter one, act with extreme caution. A seasoned Fire Knight wouldn't hesitate to cut you down the moment your hands began glowing…

*End Flashback*

Yuri frowned slightly, "Well, whether or not I truly needed help, I now owe you my life. Allow me to repay my debt by aiding you with this 'crisis' in Ix. I am certain that we will both benefit from it." "That would be pretty cool of you," the kid said, holding out his hand, "My name's Jack, Apprentice Fire Knight" Yuri hesitantly took the proffered hand and shook it. "I am Yuri, Priest of Rathma." Jack nodded. "Alright, Yuri, let's get moving."