The Mistakes of Gods

It is rare that a god makes a mistake. Even rarer is when the mistake is a major problem, even for the god's own followers. Even rarer is when the mistake is apocalyptic. As rare as these events are, they do occur. One such instance is an event the mention of is enough to send those who were there on a trip to the bottom of the nearest bottle.
Jakular's goal at the time was to create the most efficient life possible. What he meant by this is up to interpretation, and it is the only way he will describe his intentions at the time, even today. Regardless, it is likely that whatever version of efficiency he was seeking he found in the Wibovites.
They were vicious creatures: able to consume anything organic, willing to do the same, and unafraid of any threats. The Wibovites had a short maturation time, and could reproduce easily. This led to them becoming something of a horde very quickly. They consumed anything within their grasp. Trees, animals, people, all were fair game for the insatiable mouths of the Wibovites.
The creatures' horde ate and grew, ate and grew, a seemingly endless cycle destined to wipe out all other life on the continent. Leaders knew they had to act fast, the villages and towns under their protection falling fast to the onslaught.
By some twist of fate, it seemed the Wibovites preferred the taste of Biethtìre to that of any other meal. So much so, that they would often ignore closer meals in favor of hunting the beastly elder race. Great minds knew that this was likely the best chance to lure the Wibovites into a trap, and strove for a solution.
A collection of mages had an idea. Not to defeat the beasties, but instead to stall them in an attempt to save lives. The set up took time, however, and while they hurried, they knew that failure meant death. They worked with haste, but ensured that each part worked. Finally, it was ready.
The bait to the trap was a large village of Biethtìre. They were the clan Fleetclaw, swift Biethtìre of honorable decent. They figured that if any could get out from the near guaranteed suicide, it would be those with speed on their side. Mages from across Chenravo came to do their part. In truth, there was a surplus of mages, and many were held back as a reserve. Those who went in did so with protection, warriors and protectors of the highest order.
The ritual began, and magic was so abundant in the area that it could be felt, and strange effects would spontaneously occur in the most saturated areas. The spell, which required nearly a thousand mages, and that nearly double that contributed to, was put on a delay, to give the mages, their escorts, and hopefully the Biethtìre a chance to escape.
The mages were safe, for the most part, as were their escorts. Unfortunately, very few of the Fleetclaw managed to get clear of the spell, and fewer emerged later. Their mighty clan was nearly decimated by the events, and it is believed that they have died off, all but their name lost to the sands of time.
With the Wibovites nearly frozen in time, a more permanent solution was eventually reached. But do not forget: the mistakes of gods are mighty, and it often falls to their worshippers to fix them.