The streams of black magic are like the lifeblood of the dark empires of the Norcaine. In towers and temples as magnificent as they are threatening, sorcerers weave the threads of darkness, night for night, day for day, endlessly questing for even more powerful knowledge. Their craft is pain and suffering, destruction and despair; and whenever the armies march against the light, the sorcerers follow, murmuring prayers to weave the net of death with their brothers in arms.
They serve the caste of Archon, the most powerful of the ruling castes. And although the sorcerers belong to the lowest and weakest of the schools of magic, they still recognize the strength of their caste, and each of them strives to ascend the ranks of the Archon and lead the fate of a realm. Yet before them lies a long and ardenous path before they can rise through the ranks of the schools of magic.