Their name means "The People of Fate", and it sounds like the rapid trilling of a cricket.
They were the first sentient bipeds; they lived in every corner of the world, from the depths of the ocean to the tops of the mountains. Their lives were beautifully aesthetic, all their needs were always met, their days played out according to the direction of their fate. Their days filled with singing and art, competing with each other to create works most appealing to all the senses. They pulled magic from the bones of the earth, and used it to decorate their forests and delight their minds. They died when it was ordained, and otherwise lived until then.
At the Breaking of the World, the Quirris were left adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Suddenly their fates were unknowable, divinations failed, oracles reported only fogs and darkness. Groups banded together for safety and set off to discover why they were now alone and what was left for them in the world. None returned.
Taraquel was among the Quirris who gathered together at the Edge of the World in the West. They suggested that since Fate was no longer their master, the Quirris could become the new masters of the world, with Taraquel to rule over them. Many saw the great wisdom in this plan, and sang their support of this new ordering of the world. Some disagreed with the plan and left; others disagreed and put forth their own plans. Taraquel showed them their great strength by Breaking the World a second time, banishing the naysayers from the world and proceeding to remake the world in the image Fate had given them.
As the world grew more chaotic, Taraquel drew their realm closer and closer, pulling it away from the material plane. They did not suffer death in their land, as life was precious above all things, so all of the Quirris lived on. Their songs grew faint and their art grew stagnant, but Taraquel retained their rule over the land, and never seemed to falter in their strength.
Today the Quirris of Taraquel are more memories than individuals; they replay the habits of thought and action worn into deep grooves through the repetition of millennia. The delights of creation are lost to them, they only remember the glories of surprising beauty that was once central to their lives. If they feel anything, it is only a sweeping regret for the things they lost, and perhaps a wistful wondering about those who set off after the first Breaking.