The weaving of Xaanhal

EVENTS NEWS #119
Date: 6/13/2011 at 0:42
From: Anonymous
To : Everyone
Subj: The weaving of Xaanhal

Krisiina, grand-niece of Thorasa, Matron of Xoral, was born in that
village and lived there throughout her childhood. There she learned
about the culture and history of her clan, became skilled at weaving
cloth and cooking meals, and was trained to one day succeed her aunt.

She also learned fear, pain, and helpless rage. From her earliest
memories, raiders of all kinds attacked the village, slaughtering
citizens who were so poorly able to fight back. The village picked up
the mess and went on, doing nothing to attempt to fight back against
those who repeatedly inflicted harm upon the village.

As Krisiina grew to adulthood, she and Thorasa quarreled frequently.
Krisiina wanted to strike out, strike -back- at the raiders. Though this
seemed a worthy cause to many of the citizens of Xoral, the methods
Krisiina proposed went far beyond what they had the will to do. Others,
however, fell in line with the young woman's bloodthirst-driven
ruthlessness, and sided with her in the debates. However, they were in
the minority, and could not gain Thorasa's permission to act.

Krisiina was disgusted with the weak wills of the village, of the people
who preferred to be slaughtered rather than find the backbone to do what
was necessary - as she defined the term - and so she and those who had
pledged loyalty to her packed up their goods and left. They did so
peacefully, but Thorasa shunned them, forbidding them to ever return.

The group traveled for several years. Few welcomed such a large, violent
group, and they were consistent outcasts - until they landed in a small
land called Raim Vale, and that place became their home for many years -
for it was one place where they were far from the most unusual denizens.

Krisiina and Midolo Raim formed an unusual bond, a deep friendship that
persisted despite the vast differences between them. She and her
followers stayed in the village for about ten years, but that was more
than long enough to absorb and champion an unending loathing for the
city of Enorian, which they hold responsible for the horrors unleashed
upon the villagers.

For reasons unknown, the Xorali group moved on, finally settling for a
time far to the north. Though this was an odd - and disliked - location
for the desert-dwellers, they had an opportunity that was not wasted.
Krisiina struck bargains, the details of which remain unknown, with the
mages of Ayhesa, and the Xorali learned much from them. They stayed for
many years.

Their journeys from this point become quite murky; whether by pact or by
simple unspoken agreement, these years are rarely discussed. Many rumors
abound; some suggest the group moved further north up into Spinesreach,
studying the leftover journals of the Magi; others say they went into
hiding somewhere within the Vashnars, avoiding the Xoral scouts; and
still others suggest they journeyed through the portal to Albedos,
making their way past the city of Delve and into a vast desert there,
where they met other peoples who further expanded their knowledge. Only
the Xorali know for sure.

What is known, however, is that the group finally grew tired of their
wandering and decided to settle down, to create a home for their
children and safeguard it from all who would do them harm. They chose a
place in the Shamtota Hills, close enough to the great volcano of
Bloodloch to ensure the caverns would remain warm and comfortable. In a
great feat of magic, Krisiina channeled the powers of all her people to
carve Xaanhal out of the very stone, tunneling deep into the earth.

This, however, was not enough. Almost two generations had passed since
Thorasa's proclamation; the group had multiplied at least by ten since
those years, and many of the members were yet young children.

No one but Krisiina knows the details of how the Xorali wove the final
spell of protection that ensures the safety of the Xaanhal citizens;
none of the other grafters survived its casting, their very souls
consumed to power the fracture of reality. The lower levels of Xaanhal
lie under a protective seal, one where the citizens themselves are
virtually unreachable except by the other Xaanhal citizens. All others
face only shades, repeating echoes of peoples that will never again be
harmed by the trespassing world.


Penned by my hand on the 10th of Haernos, in the year 334 MA.