Lore: the Weary Legion of First Men

In the beginning, Primordial Darkness was all-in-all, contentedly singing the song of the void. But then the Voice said, "Let there by Light," and a searing agony burst in the heart of Her being.

This Light was the antithesis of Darkness in every way. Whereas the Darkness remained whole and complete, the Light divided, forming individuality, community and love.

The First Gods were born of Primordial Light. The Shining One, firstborn, flashed forth, carving space in the Darkness for his brothers. Next came Zin, stabilizing the Firmament, giver of Law. Before him the Hungry Chaos fled shrieking. Last came Elyvilon, healing her brothers' wounds and weariness as they stood against the Dark. The first stars fell from her tears.

The starry Heavens, chained into place by laws of particle and wave, birthed Ashenzari, eternal watchman against encroaching Dark. After him was Qazlal, born in the whirling accretion disks of elemental fury. Planets formed, and kissed by Elyvilon's compassion, life bloomed on the Prime Plane. Fedhas awakened as diatoms danced on the waves, rejoicing in the radiance of clear skies.

Darkness observed with fury the mockery that had been carved from her very bones. She struck, intending to swallow the Prime Plane forever. So Death entered Prime, hungry shadows pouring through Black Hole dimensional gates to snuff Life ere it could take root.

Fedhas wrought great plant monstrosities to defend herself, yet the touch of the Void undid her strongest creations. In grief to see her children wither, she cried out to Elyvilon. TSO and Zin, busy with the Creation War, dismissed the nascent planetary life. But Elyvilon, moved with pity, answered the call. Her light transformed a fraction of the ravening shadow beasts, making them true animals.

Fedhas fed these First Beasts, born of shadow and therefore resistant to it. She hybridized their essence into her flora, making it immune to the negative energy of her foe. Her mushrooms grew from their corpses, fell and strange. The invasion front stabilized; Jurassic war raged on the lifebearing planets of Prime. Nature adapted, growing red in tooth and claw, a necessity to survive the onslaught of the Void. Amid the endless battles rose Trog, heralded by Leviathan's furious roar. His bite drained the Shadows of their tricks, forcing them to face him claw-to-claw. Their Fear could not touch his heart, their Curses reflected off his brazen scales. His Fury was bottomless, his bloodlust unending. He was King over all the children of pride.

Seeing herself defeated in great and small, Darkness shrieked in fury, her mind fragmenting as pieces of her broke off to become the Demonic race. Now she had myriad servants to overwhelm the vigilance of the gods, intelligent agents capable of sieging Prime's living planets and exploiting the weaknesses of the defenders. The demons carved four Planes from the grey murk of no-man's land, using them to stage their invasion of Prime. They pelted Leviathan from afar, forcing his mighty neck to bow beneath the waves. They burned the grasslands and froze the forests. They shrugged off Qazlal's orbital defenses, immune to her elemental fury.

Again Elyvilon went to her brothers, and this time they heeded her, for the demons brought a destabilizing planar corruption. The First Gods needed an army. Yet they could ill afford the madness of Darkness' method -- creating beings from the fragments of her own mind.

Instead Fedhas fashioned beasts in the image of the First Gods, and the Three blessed them. These were the First Men, and they were built for war. Able to fight on land or sea, their great eyes pierced darkness as easily as light. Powerful and intelligent, they lacked only speed, not needing it thanks to swarms of beastly auxiliaries and mounts. The Barachim, battle toads, were legionnaires, heavy infantry and battlemages to crush the demonic invasion. Their marching cadences and spell-songs thundered, striking fear into demon hearts that knew none.

The demons were driven back, and no-man's land stabilized into the Abyss. Countless Barachim died, but infinitely more rose from Fedhas' spawning pools. The spirits of the valiant dead entered TSO's heavenly halls, becoming Daevas who drove back the Dark relentlessly, angelic tanks that rarely died the second death. Darkness withered as she divided herself into demonic generals to stem the onslaught. In desperation, she ripped great chunks from herself, forming the Pan Lords.

The conflict raged for eons, birthing new gods of battle, commerce, luck and magic, and new races of mortals too. But in the end, it was too much. The Light lanced deep into the heart of Darkness, shattering her. Nine gods split from the ruins of Darkness' mind, each mutually hostile. Immediately they fled. At last, the Creation War was over.

For a time, Barachi continued their policy of extermination towards the forces of evil and chaos, out of societal inertia. This was the age of the First Empire. Eventually, both evil and chaos grew scarce, and prosperity flourished. Yet corruption grew within the Empire, and in time it fell under the weight of its flaws.

As history ground on, the Barachi grew increasingly disillusioned with their raison d'etre of destroying Darkspawn. Many concluded that some Darkness was necessary to temper the Light. If Darkness had nowhere to dwell except hidden in the Light, then Light could never be pure. Creation requires a balance of both Light and Darkness. Yet this balance necessitates suffering and conflict. Countless Barachi youth had perished in agony due to this "necessity".

Should the spawning pools continue to supply their endless levy for the Darkness wars? Were not the other races now capable of defending themselves, of making their own choices? Why should the Barachi sacrifice their tadpoles for those who showed no appreciation at all?

Eight god fragments of Darkness were evil, but one was neutral -- Ru, the bloody god who opposed creation. Out of sympathy and respect for a defeated foe, many Barachi came to appreciate Ru's perspective on the error of creation. His path of martial renunciation appealed to both ascetic and warrior. The Barachi were weary of the endless strife of the gods.

Others, though they departed TSO's service, took up Ashenzari's vigil, accepting that as part of Creation they must safeguard its borders, ensuring the balance of day and night.

As a young Barachi knight errant, you have chosen to wander, to experience Creation yourself before deciding your place in its shades of grey. By your deeds you will prove you are a pollywog no longer, but worthy to take a seat in the elder's croaking pond. Sensing emanations of intense Darkness nearby, you investigate and discover the Dungeon entrance. Fate, it would seem, has offered you a Trial.