The Oath of Purification is sworn by those who believe that rot—moral, magical, or monstrous—must be cauterized, not coddled. They are walking sanctifiers, wielding fire, salt, and steel to scour corruption from the world and cleanse the unclean with sacred force.
Purifiers wear scorched plate marked with radiant brands and ritual sigils. Their weapons are etched with rites of absolution, often blackened at the edge by divine flame. They carry censers, flasks of sanctified oil, and scrolls that hiss when near blight. Their mere presence sizzles taint from the air. Where they tread, plague wilts and sorcery recoils.
Within the salt-rimed vaults of Thaur, deep beneath the Ruined Basin, Purifiers train beside pits of eternal flame. They learn to recognize corruption by scent alone, to chant rites mid-battle, and to purge haunted relics with word and blade. Their masters are former inquisitors and plague-slayers, each scarred by the cost of mercy delayed.
A Purifier sees no sin as trivial, no rot as harmless. Evil, once rooted, must be uprooted completely. They do not banish—they burn. They do not plead—they pronounce sentence. Whether undead, cursed, or defiled by magic, anything twisted from its natural path must face the flame. Cleansing is not cruelty. It is necessity.