Thaznil is the name of the evil wizard responsible for the founding of Loxi. His story however, began very differently than it ended. Thaznil was on the ruling council of Abrogale, the most powerful magical kingdom on the continent. Seat of all magical learning, Abrogale boasted wonders at every turn, self illuminating streets, beautiful patterns and colors that responded to the steps and moods of those walking upon them, throwing bursts of lights in intricate and fascinating patterns if one’s mood was light, or softly leaking cool dark purples when the walker was introspective or depressed.
Towering spires of stone and more exotic materials climbed gracefully out of the quiet, hamlet like metropolis of Abrogale suspended on naught but pure magical energy, a hundred wizard towers with a hundred wizard laboratories. And in the center, grandest of them all, the 101st spire, the crystal tower, looked out over all. Twin spirals of ruby and sapphire wide as the king’s highway wound their way around a jaw droppingly gorgeous spine of iridescent crystal.
It is here that Thaznil and the rest of The Twelve performed their work. Pushing the boundaries of magic, they laid the foundation of much of current magical knowledge. Most spells known to arcane casters originated in these hallowed halls.
But all such quests for power have their price, and Abrogale was no different. It was Thaznil, ultimately, that pushed too far, and bought his power by causing Abrogale to pay the ultimate price.
In his arrogance he sought control of all magic on Galoren, enacting a web of ley lines running through the entire world. His preparations complete, he cast the final words of the spell, expecting to link himself to a channel of all the world’s magic. The next moment, his world exploded. The ley lines surged with raw power, channeled and focused and chained to his soul. But, even as hardened as he had made his body and soul, there was no containing the titanic forces he had just unleashed. The power filled h then overflowed, a beam of incandescent fire piercing the heavens as it ripped through his soul. The backlash of this unleashing sent a shockwave of energy billowing outward in every direction, a tidal wave of force and magic exploding across the entire nation. The 101 spires shuddered, and slowly collapsed, monumental energies undone in an instant by the raw unrestrained magic pulsing out of the crystal spire. Every building in the city of Abrogale disintegrated, the hardiest merely blowing away on the wind of magic.
And in the center, Thaznil burned. Blue flames engulfed him and soon all of Abrogale, the souls of its citizens mere kindling for the flame, and the tremendous power of its wizards inhaled into the vortex of energy focussed on Thaznil, their mgically enriched souls acting as ever more fuel for the supernova of energy he had unleashed.
For thirty days and thirty nights the city burned, and the tormented screams of Thaznil carried for miles on the winds of magic. Those as far north as Dahl witnessed the beam of everburning fire, the event recorded differently by scholars the world over.
Historians disagree on exactly what happened, some posit that the trauma drove him mad, some that the influx of souls whispered pleas to him for thirty days and thirty nights. Some say that it was merely the energy itself scouring the wizard clean of any kind of conscience. Whatever the cause, when the smoke had finally cleared, Thaznil the tyrant was born.
And the world shuddered at his birth.