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Silvian the Flamewalker
The winding halls of Havenfal Manor have many stories to tell. From the towering bookshelves of it's colossal library to the dark webs inside its cellar. Though, as rich as the sea-side manor and town surrounding are in history, most of said history is lost behind a wall of seclusivity and fire.
The secrets of it's history lie within the denizens of the town. Bright and happy, but... hollow in a sense. People are there, but it seems like something isn't. Except one person within the confines of the Manor itself. A descendant of the man who built the town at the edge of the sandy sea.
Silvian is a troubled man. Rarely leaves his house, when he does it's for a brief meeting with the people. The rest of his duties are dealt with the equally empty servants he has acquired. Even though they don't seem to be payed, they insist it's charity work granted by the council; they seem happy as ever. He on the other hand is not. Grouched over, yelling at anyone who gets within his glaucoma'd gaze a swift "Back, Filth!" A very unpleasant man.
Though, when he isn't spending his time being hateful to anything that steps within the general vicinity of him or straightening the books on his shelves for the ten thousandth time, he does appear to have a softer spot for animals. Specifically ones mistreated or abandoned by folk. He does run a menagerie in another town to let others adopt, with thorough background checks of course.
Under the sunblasted gaze of one so crazed, the town of mysteries lie in grey brume. Waiting for secrets to be exhumed.
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