Bakarus (prime)

Bakarus Created by by Arelder's player using ChatGPT 5.2 with permission of Bakarus's player Race Human? Class Cleric Profession First Pilgrim of the Order of Eternal Light Religion Seeker Affiliation(s) Order of Eternal Light

"I, Bakarus" by Kyott of Icemule Trace

Eternal Light, dear reader!

I greet you this way regardless of whether these words are illuminated by the day’s radiance or by the flickering, fading glow of a rushlight. For simply by the act of opening this tome, you are inviting enlightenment, brighter than a thousand suns and as eternal as the stars.

The life of Bakarus recorded herein was related to me by our First Pilgrim himself. I have preserved his account in his own words and, having heard it firsthand, can attest without reservation to its truth.

Chapter I: Humble Beginnings

Our story begins in the northern reaches of Jantalar, a land of rolling green hills, river meadows, and honest craftsmen. I was born under Jantalar’s banners, on the fringes of the Empire’s authority, and although many harsh words might now be spoken of that land, I cannot help but remember it with the affection of my childhood.

Those of us raised in such a land understood that our gentle prosperity endured only because there were those who stood ready to defend it. Duty, in the truest sense of the word, was not considered a remarkable act in Jantalar.

When I came of age, I entered the Jantalarian army. Although I possessed no great martial ambition—and certainly no love of violence—I marched under the flag as a matter of course, as generations of Jantalarians had done before.

Then came the year 5107, when the armies were dissolved and so many young men who had known only a life of drill, sparring, and cadenced marching were left to their own devices. Some fortunate souls returned to their hometowns to seek a trade, while others eked out a precarious living as daytalers or roustabouts.

Having no formal calling, I found myself penniless and without direction.

Although this is not an uplifting conclusion to this chapter, my friend, know that we may bless our knowledge as we curse its lessons. For these dark, lean years were merely the first steps of a long and fruitful journey.

Chapter II: An Aimless Life

Left with only the provisions in my pack and what few coins remained in my purse, I walked the fringes of Jantalar’s borders as what I can only call a wayfarer. I took such honest work as would present itself, but make no mistake: these were lean, hungry years.

Along the northern roads, disparate bands of former soldiers had formed into small groups. For safety in numbers, I traveled alongside one such band. The names of some such groups have acquired an ugly reputation—perhaps deservedly so. However, the purpose of this story is not to malign the character of the dead, and so let us not dwell further.

Among my new fellow-travelers, many mentioned Arkati, and it was here that I heard names such as V’tull muttered in hushed, reverent tones. Though living such a meagre, hardscrabble existence, I was more concerned with the source of my next meal than with theological discussions. I remained distant from the lofty discussions of theology and, I am ashamed to say, apathetic to the metaphysical.

The camp in which I was traveling came into a heated disagreement with the armed hands of a passing caravan. Although I eschewed any consideration of violence, I found myself caught up in the chaos of the melee. My fellow-travelers fell one by one as a larger cohort of armed roughnecks trailed the caravan and broke upon us. A blow came—from what source, I do not know—and I lost consciousness.

I awoke somewhere between life and death amid the bodies of men and horses. And, in that moment, still not entirely back among the living, I saw a vision—as ephemeral as it was unmistakable. To this day, I have not told a living soul the specifics of its appearance. And I shall not relate it here, as it was intended for me alone.

The vision spoke, asking me to seek out Truth from among the disparate faiths and, through true understanding, bring the gift of enlightenment to the peoples of Elanthia. I stood up from among the bodies—reborn, as it were—and set out upon the trails. My pilgrimage had begun.

Chapter III: A Pilgrim's Journey

Emboldened by my life’s revealed purpose, I set out on a true pilgrimage to the holy sites in Solhaven. Trusting in both my wits and the sanctity of this mission, I was overjoyed to find open arms among the warm souls of Vornavis. It was clear to them from my tattered robes and the occasional glimpse of a swordbelt that I was a poor, dispossessed orphan of war, and, as such, they fed and clothed me without ever asking for so much as a single bent silver.

As I listened to the preachers, holy men, and fellow pilgrims, my previous life, devoid of thoughts of the Arkati, proved a boon to my mission, as I had no theological baggage with which to contend. I listened and discussed with an open heart and mind.

But what I discovered was disheartening: Elanthians of all stripes mired in fundamentalist dogma, as stagnant as it was often biased. Furthermore, I could not help but see the troubling contradictions, as every answer brought more questions to the surface.

Of the starving beggars in the shadow of the temples—do they truly escape Koar’s watchful eye? Is Imaera aware of the plagues and diseases attracted to her bounty? And does Phoen truly not see the passionate crimes committed in the shadows of his divine rays?

The fringe beliefs on the margins of Imperial power also seemed to defy conventional explanation. Could any worthy poet not claim inspiration from the works of Ivas? Does not the seed of ambitious works and the desire for free expression owe at least a little to the remit of Eorgina—reviled as she may be among those who write our laws?

As I wrestled with these questions for many sleepless nights in taverns and on haystacks, it became clear to me that no one insular belief, devoid of searching, offered Truth. No individual may simply be born into a faith—it should be reached honestly through internal searching and reflection.

It was then that I first heard whispers of the Order of Eternal Light.

Chapter IV: The Founding

My heart now serene as it settled into an expansive, awakening truth, I continued my travels, eventually reaching Icemule Trace in the far northeast of western Elanith. Its frontier people endured hardship from both weather and instability alike.

Though I had spent years as a humble pilgrim, I believed that observation alone was no longer sufficient. Such troubles as the town faced required more than sympathy. They required judgment, experience, and the willingness to shoulder burdens others preferred to avoid. As such, I humbly joined the Town Council, believing that I might bring some measure of each and that any wisdom I gathered upon the road would be put to practical use.

Through these good works, I encountered Zeminar and Aenternoll, who applied their keen minds to the pursuit of forgotten and otherwise esoteric knowledge abandoned by the folly of conventional order.

The three of us, seekers all, agreed to formally create the Solhaven chapter of the Order of Eternal Light. Within our simple compact, our open minds and hearts continued to embrace our Order’s saying: “In these halls, there are no secrets.”

Chapter V: Our Continued Mission

The work of the Order of Eternal Light does not end with the founding of halls, the preservation of old rites, or the collection of forgotten truths. Those are only beginnings. Our true mission is to carry inquiry wherever fear, dogma, or ignorance have convinced others not to look. We must continue to study every faith, every manifestation of the Arkati, every sacred tradition, and every forbidden question with the same clear eyes and open mind that first set me upon this path.

I have therefore taken it upon myself to ensure that the Order does not grow timid with age. We will not become another institution content to repeat what it already knows. We will travel farther, ask harder questions, and welcome those willing to seek without prejudice. Where others see danger in knowledge, we will see responsibility. Where others demand certainty, we will preserve the courage to doubt.

That is the charge I carry as First Pilgrim. So long as I am able to lead, the Eternal Light will not dim into ceremony or complacency. It will remain what it was always meant to be: a living search for truth, guided not by fear of where the road may lead but by the conviction that no darkness is greater than the light brought by understanding.

And where the Eternal Light has not yet reached, we shall bring it—whether those dwelling in darkness welcome its coming or not.