The An'an Thuul Maw

If ever you pause to think about the geography of Kolburra surrounding Nörn, you may come up with quite a difficult question: Why does Nörn function like an island nation? It has a strong connection to the mainland of Kolburra, a clear-cut pass through the Krakis mountain range, and good relations with their dwarven neighbors, and with the Ghostlands to the south. The answer: The An'an Thuul Maw.   Let us go back, 100 years, to the time when the Nurnen kingdom stretched from the northern tip of Kolburra to the Un'ta deadlands in the south. The kingdom was still reveling in its victory over the old Druidic Enclave. Nobody took notice of a tiny sinkhole forming in the forests to the east of the capital. Little by little, it grew in size, the land around it slowly beginning to slope towards it. And then the first creature emerged from it. In all my years of druidry, I have never seen a creature similar to what came out of that abyss. It was like an insect, but large -- just as hungry, though. It worked its way to a nearby village, searching for food, and it began abducting villagers. At first everyone thought that the disappearances were due to some normal beast -- perhaps a wight of some sort. When they found it, the soldiers sent to kill it were all slaughtered, save one, who managed to kill it as it devoured his friends. And then there were more. They seemed endless, each one that was killed was replaced by two or three more, it seemed. The soldiers sent to contain them began calling them the Krik'tha after the clicking and hissing sound that they made when hunting. Every Nurnen would learn to dread that sound.   By the time that the Nurnen discovered the small patch of forest that the Krik'tha were coming from, it was overrun with beasts, and a single, massive pincer-like object jutted into the sky above it. The sinkhole had widened enough to accommodate a family-sized hovel. As what would be known as the Krik'tha Flood continued, the Maw continued to grow in size. By the time Volheim fell to the beasts, the number of mandibles shooting into the sky had multiplied to six. Nobody knew (or knows) how large the maw had become. The unyielding tide that poured forth from the Maw was evidence enough that it was ever-growing.   Presently, the Maw is of unknown size, though the tide of Krik'tha does not seem to be any less than what it was at the fall of Volheim. The An'an Thuul Descent, the area of land that slopes downward towards the Maw's center, now encompasses nearly all the land from the eastern coast to Volheim. It has made travel through the southern portion of old Nörn impossible. Nörn and her dwarven neighbors are isolated by it.   The Maw itself is of unknown origin. Whether it is natural or not, I cannot say. If I could hazard a guess myself, I should say that it was built by the Krik'tha, though I cannot explain the purpose of the mandibles jutting into the sky. Natural or not, the land around it has certainly become uninhabitable. There are no animals, plants, or any sort of living thing (other than the bugs themselves) in the Krik'tha held territory. All has been eaten bare, save the skeletons of forests and the bones of the unfortunate victims of the Krik'tha. When or how this land will become arable again, I do not know. I am not sure such a thing is even possible naturally at this point. To know for sure, we would have to obtain samples of the land there and test the samples for ourselves.   Whatever the origin or purpose of the Maw, it is a dire threat to all of civilization. Another maw has begun to emerge in the southwest of the old empire, on the border with the Un'ta deadlands. Thus, the An'an Maw is not an isolated incident -- these creatures can expand elsewhere, and that should worry all other living things. If we do not discover how to close the Maw, or else kill its inhabitants, then it is quite possible that we will share in the fate of the Morlu and be lost to this world. Luckily for us, I have faith in Mjoln the Wall, the new king of Nörn, and I expect that the final battle to decide our fates shall be waged in the coming years, for many of us who live today to bear witness to.