He was sitting on a fallen log, surrounded by the autumnal leaves of the forest. Frost spreads along the log and ground where he sits. He sighs I never asked to be different.
Intro Silver. Silver Obsidian. A name with much meaning here in Starveil. Silver, the sacred metal, and obsidian, the cursed stone. Nobody knows what it entails, a name like that. All he knows of his heratige is a single crimson feather. When he is happy, he carries a sort of aura of happiness and warmth, but when he is sad or angry, frost and ice crystallizes around him, everyone else around him feels miserable or furious.
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