Ever since he could recall, Samoht had wanted to be normal. He was gifted in many ways: strong, attractive, intelligent, but most importantly he had a natural knack of weaving the arcane. This is why he was stolen from his family by the Order of the Black Fang to become initiate of necromancy. Quickly, he learned to command the dead, and steal life from the living.

Seventeen years into life, he had already completed a monumental task by passing the trials needed in order to graduate to become a Full Necromancer. Only one in four would pass the trials alive. Samoht found the trials to be easy.

"The world is yours for the taking, Samoht!” The Order's headmaster had told him. “Never have there been a Necromancer more powerful than you.”

He didn't care. He never asked to be a necromancer and resented the order for taking him away from his family. His chance at a normal life with a wife who loved him and children to raise. Instead, he raised corpses and the women in the order loved his prowess. He knew if he stayed his life would be surrounded by death.

“Once a necromancer, always a necromancer,” the headmaster warned that, “you can never go back. You know and have seen more than a mere mortal could understand.”

The night before his coronation as Full Necromancer, Samoht left. He entered the forest in the direction of the full moon. No vestment, no enchanted talisman, no spellbook, no staff, Samoht was armed in a simple tunic as he entered the world of the mundane.

Determined to throw off the control of his life by the Order of the Black Fang, and ignorant of the fact that he had no other skill in which to survive the world of the living, Samoht was consumed by his need to break away and find the simple life. He ran at first with fear, then walked in hunger as his limited stock ran out. To his delight, Samoht came upon a mother and daughter searching for someone in a grove of fruit bearing trees.