The Assarall

Masters of Arcane Might

The Assarall were not just haughty recluses; they were prodigies of magic, sorcerers who wielded arcane power unmatched on Aerith. Their isolation isn't simply geographical, it is a consequence of their frightening magical prowess.

Arcane Lineage

Legends whispered that the Assarall possessed a direct genetic link to a celestial event, perhaps the crash of a fallen star or a brush with a passing comet. This lineage imbued them with a natural affinity for magic, particularly spells that mirrored the celestial realm - starlight manipulation, teleportation across vast distances, and potent illusions.

Forbidden Tomes

Jealously guarded within their shimmering towers were ancient tomes, spellbooks containing secrets gleaned from the cosmos. These weren't mere scrolls of fireballs and illusions; these were treatises on manipulating gravity, bending time, and even communing with extraplanar entities. The knowledge within these tomes was a double-edged sword, granting immense power but also harboring the risk of summoning otherworldly horrors.

Channeling the Aether

Unlike most magic users on Aerith who drew power from the natural world, the Assarall were conduits for the raw aether, the lifeblood of magic itself. This allowed them to bypass the limitations of elemental manipulation and tap into a purer, more potent source of arcane energy. Imagine a mage wielding a flickering candle flame versus the Assarall who could command a raging inferno fueled by the very essence of magic.

There's a tale about an old hermit who lives near the Singing Chasm, one of the scars left by the Sundering. They say he used to be a scholar, obsessed with unraveling the secrets of the Assarall. Now he's a broken man, muttering about forbidden knowledge and a city that hangs between the stars. Some nights, I swear I see a faint light in the distance, a glimmer that moves too fast to be a star...

Technological Marvels

Their advanced magic manifested not just in spells but in wondrous creations. Floating cities, self-repairing bridges, and even intricate clockwork automatons were hallmarks of Assarall ingenuity. These marvels were both a testament to their brilliance and a constant reminder of the gulf that separated them from the "primitive" races below.

The Price of Power

However, this immense power wasn't without its drawbacks. The constant channeling of the aether could warp the mind and body. Some Assarall were rumored to possess an almost inhuman detachment from emotions, a coldness that bordered on sociopathy. Others succumbed to a form of magical addiction, their bodies forever dependent on the raw aether, a dependence that could be both exhilarating and ultimately destructive.

The Assarall's magical prowess was undeniable. They were the pinnacle of arcane power on Aerith, a people who walked a tightrope between brilliance and oblivion. Their arrogance, however, proved to be their undoing. They underestimated the delicate balance of magic and the devastating consequences of unchecked ambition. The Sundering serves as a stark reminder that even the most powerful magic can have catastrophic consequences.

They say the Assarall aren't what they seem anymore. The magic they used to elevate their city is slowly consuming them. Their bodies are becoming like living crystal, their minds trapped in a cold, glittering prison. They're a cautionary tale, a reminder that even the mightiest can be brought low by their own ambition