Charfall
Born from the death throes of a Primeval Fire Elemental, Charfall is the ember that should have died but instead clung to existence, twisted and impure. When the elemental’s core was shattered in battle, a single ember remained—too stubborn to fade, too tainted to burn true. It smoldered, feeding upon the ashes of its own destruction, warping into something neither flame nor shadow.
Legends say that this ember was stolen by a desperate pyromancer who sought to resurrect the elemental, binding its fractured essence into a vessel of blackened glass and molten gold. But the fire that returned was wrong. No longer a force of creation, it had become something parasitic, a corrupt hunger lurking beneath its glow. Those who held Charfall found their flames twisted—fire turning cold, warmth siphoning away into a creeping void.
Even now, the remnants of that ember smolder within these relics. Under light, they gleam with the illusion of life. But in darkness, the truth is revealed—a charred, writhing core, pulsing with the remnants of a fire that should have never survived.
Beware, for Charfall does not burn—it devours.
Born from the death throes of a Primeval Fire Elemental, Charfall is the ember that should have died but instead clung to existence, twisted and impure. When the elemental’s core was shattered in battle, a single ember remained—too stubborn to fade, too tainted to burn true. It smoldered, feeding upon the ashes of its own destruction, warping into something neither flame nor shadow.
Legends say that this ember was stolen by a desperate pyromancer who sought to resurrect the elemental, binding its fractured essence into a vessel of blackened glass and molten gold. But the fire that returned was wrong. No longer a force of creation, it had become something parasitic, a corrupt hunger lurking beneath its glow. Those who held Charfall found their flames twisted—fire turning cold, warmth siphoning away into a creeping void.
Even now, the remnants of that ember smolder within these relics. Under light, they gleam with the illusion of life. But in darkness, the truth is revealed—a charred, writhing core, pulsing with the remnants of a fire that should have never survived.
Beware, for Charfall does not burn—it devours.
Born from the death throes of a Primeval Fire Elemental, Charfall is the ember that should have died but instead clung to existence, twisted and impure. When the elemental’s core was shattered in battle, a single ember remained—too stubborn to fade, too tainted to burn true. It smoldered, feeding upon the ashes of its own destruction, warping into something neither flame nor shadow.
Legends say that this ember was stolen by a desperate pyromancer who sought to resurrect the elemental, binding its fractured essence into a vessel of blackened glass and molten gold. But the fire that returned was wrong. No longer a force of creation, it had become something parasitic, a corrupt hunger lurking beneath its glow. Those who held Charfall found their flames twisted—fire turning cold, warmth siphoning away into a creeping void.
Even now, the remnants of that ember smolder within these relics. Under light, they gleam with the illusion of life. But in darkness, the truth is revealed—a charred, writhing core, pulsing with the remnants of a fire that should have never survived.
Beware, for Charfall does not burn—it devours.
