In then the year, 1034 of the second age of this world, there did breaketh across the realm a war, great and terrible. And this war was so great that it shook the planes, and so terrible that it did rock the Prime Material to its very core. A war, terrible and great, that did pit man against man, god against god, and lo! Even the children wept in their mother’s wombs. The forever shunned Demons from the black of the Abyss did spew forth, mingled with the strongest of evils in this world, and did set their armies upon the prime material, rending asunder the uneasy peace that had reigned since this world was newly made. Tanshol Berman, a prominent disciple of Boccob, recounts the histories:
Deceit Of An Arrogant Man
“…The bleakness of the Abyss doth stretch for miles upon miles; a wicked landscape, shameful and never-ending. A man doth stand proudly before a huge creature, a lord of demons of the Abyss. But lo! It is the man who stands with his chest out; the demon doth slump in defeat! ‘You shall heed my command Baritor! I stand before thee, here, upon the plane of thy birth, having defeated thee in combat. If thou deny me once more, I will then destroy thee, here, in the plane of thy birth, and thou shalt be no more. Verily I say unto thee, thou shall giveth thine power unto me, aiding me in mine heavenly task.’
‘Ortis, thou art a fool. For I have spoken unto thee, I cannot do thy bidding, lest it destroys me!’
‘So be it. You are destroyed in either fashion; in the least thy life may not be forfeit if thou shalt lend me thine aid.’
And the Demon doth look down ashamedly, ‘…So be it.’
And the proud man doth smile, ‘Excellent. Thou shall know when the time is right, and the stars are aligned. Until then, servant.’
And so, with a flash of his hand and a great evocation of the arcane, the magus doth disappear. The demon would scowl in hate, then bend low his head in shame. As he henceforth doth slink to his throne, behold! A visage of smile shows through the scowl, and is banished just as quickly. Hark! Betrayal!
So did Ortis, the Arrogant, continue in his self-righteous sinful pleasure, to create for himself a plane of his own, one of infinite beauty, to rival even the homes of the gods, such that he could live out the rest of his years in peace and prideful contentment. But, verily I say unto thee, Ortis did not know the wiles of the Demon race, or the plotting of their dark creator. Nay, for even as he had seen in his own eyes power over this Demon, and force, drawing forth of the Demon Baritor’s own will, he was betrayed by his ignorance and his arrogance! Blackest of Heart and Darkest of Soul, Lachesta, king of all Demons, and creator of them all, was a part of each and every Demon he created, and as such, bound into every deal they made. This foul being spent his every waking moment plotting to enter the Prime Material plane, a place long forbidden him by the councils of the other gods. So it was when Ortis did call upon Baritor to lend his demonic aid and bend his will to Ortis’ creation, it was in secret the Blackest of Heart, Lachesta, who powered the magus.
And Ortis did lay upon the floor, his spell of creation finally ended. Moons had passed in preparation and days had passed in ritual casting, calling upon the intense power of the demon to pervade and bolster the magus’ own will, but at long last he was finished. Here he lay in his own plane, one created from his own design, one forged in his own mind, a testament of beauty, and of his sinful pride. ‘And so then I name thee, Ortimus, child of Ortis, child of my heart.’
And a hideous cackling laughter did echo all around the magus who lay with exhaustion, and the Blackest of Hearts did speaketh unto him in terrific power and bitter hate, ‘So, Ortimus, then. I favor it thusly, and so shall it be named, that it should remind all of the folly of Ortis. Heretofor, thou shall never see it again.’ Walls of earth and stone did spring up all around the magus, entombing him and binding him where he lay.
And Ortis did scream forth in agony and rage, his powerful magics echoing loudly against the walls of his tomb, but a mortal cannot bend the will of a god, and the demon god’s wards assured the man’s spells would have no effect. With painful slowness, the tomb did sink into the earth and dirt of Ortimus, and thusly the echoes of the screaming magus were no more.
And lo! Ortimus was created, and tainted in the same instant!
And hark! The demon king, Lachesta, Blackest of Heart, had found his wicked desire fulfilled, a channel yet unknown to the other gods from which he might touch the forbidden Prime Material plane.
And I say unto thee, be mournful, for thus began the Tanar’ri Wars.”