Anchorspires are tall and sheer pillars of basalt and obsidian, that protrude from the ocean, and extend high above the Nuvesea. Sturdy and immobile, the mighty anchorspire can secure ayrlands from drifting bysswards on the gales. For a time, at least. It will one day fall, as all things must. A people must prepare for this eventuality or suffer the catastrophic consequences of denial. Fortunately, even when a spire falls, not all is lost. A new spire might be born any time an ayrland crashes into the ocean and opens a scar in the floor of the Deepsea. From there its formation is a slow and unreliable process. But a galeblazer who stumbles on the location of an undiscovered spire could very well hold the key to salvation for thousands of people. To the gahls of the chainlands, an anchorspire's unmistakable silhouette is the symbol of civilization. It is the nexus of the nation-state, the engine of progress, and the beating heart of any empire or ayrmada. It projects the power of permanence, for those who would dare fight to seize and keep it. It promises the hope of a life as humanity was surely meant to experience it: orderly and temperate.
Would I live on a loosey? Whaddya mean, like one ayrland flying around on its own? Gettin' tossed about the gales, and bit by local critters to boot? No, you'd have to be mad to live there! Two ayrlands? Sure, you can chain two ayrlands together, but then you just got 'em spinnin' around like bolas. You know what they say! Mo' mentum, mo' problems! Three? Hmm...If the reefs are healthy, three is the bare minimum you can mesh together for a stable flight, and even then, it's a bit of a merry-go-round sorta thing. No my friend, I don't got the stomach for that. Nothing beats the spire for bit of peace and quiet. Long as they get too cheeky with the taxes.