Name: Silvanus

Species: Smokeborn

Domain: Places steeped in decay and life intertwined, wooded areas or forests where he has the advantage of the terrain.

Description:

Deep within the quietest, untouched parts of the realm—where roots whisper forgotten truths and the air tastes of moss and memory—there stirs a being born not of flesh, but of smoke. Silvanus, a primordial plant-like monstrosity, is an entity that appears to be woven from dark/shaded vine, bark-bone, and heartwood veined with green fire. Towering yet mutable, he bears a shifting form, ever-rewriting itself with the breath of the forest: humanoid one moment, a great thicketed beast the next. His eyes are luminous cores of emerald light, ancient and unreadable, and his voice creaks like bending branches or the groan of roots under stone. Where he roams, bringing death or life in his trail, a cloud of dark fog follows and/or lurks.

Abilities:

Smoke: Like his father/creator, Silvanus consists of what appears to be a dense and impenetrable smoke, being able to control it and utilize it freely. Though this smoke is typically condensed into the massive elderwood-like appearance that he prefers to occupy. Individual entities and objects are also able to be produced and utilized so long as he has the strength to maintain them.

Smoke Morphogenesis: Silvanus's body is typically a lattice of what resembles plant-matter, capable of altering its density and hardness at will to a gas, liquid, or solid. He may become supple as a willow whip or hard as obsidian bark, growing spines, tendrils, or armored plating in an instant, but this is not limited to just a few actions, the versatility and application of his power and abilities spread far and wide. This makes him both a terror in battle and a marvel to behold. Silvanus does not have a set size, nor does he have a limit on how large or small he may become so long as he has the energy to it.

Symbiotic Absorption: He draws energy from all things—living or inert, which allows him to grow larger and preserve more energy. By touching stone, he may siphon geothermal warmth. From beasts, the pulse of blood. From dying trees, their last memory of sunlight. This process can be subtle or ravenous, fueling his ever-growing mass and power. A battlefield becomes a garden of his rebirth.

Entropic Bond: Silvanus may be befriended or controlled—but never both—through a binding pact. This pact feeds him a steady stream of life force from the supplicant. The more power one seeks to wield through him, the greater the price paid in vigor, youth, or soul. To control him fully is to hasten one’s own decay.

Verdure Wake: Wherever he treads, foliage blooms or withers in his shadow. Vines twist protectively around him, and blooms of impossible colors sprout in his presence. In combat, these living outgrowths can entangle foes or impale them with thorn-barbs as he summons the primal wrath of nature. Living treants are able to be created that obey Silvanus's thoughts and commands.

Memoryroot Conduit: Ancient roots buried deep in the earth connect Silvanus to the history of the realm along the memories of the one he is derived from. He can commune with spirits, ancient beings, and even glean fractured memories from the land itself, making him a source of rare, cryptic knowledge.

Personality:

Though monstrous in form, Silvanus is not inherently malevolent. He is an echo of a being who used to if not still wanders the realm—neither cruel nor kind, but governed by instinct, balance, and the will of his deeper currents. He may protect a child lost in his woods, then turn and drain the life from a lumberjack who dared cut too deep. He honors pacts, though never forgets debts. His mind is quick and vast, and his curiosity is endless, though often alien in focus. It is not mentioned to those who may use him or his abilities, but there is 1 being that he follows and obeys if encountered, which is a very rare and unlikely thing to happen.

Aesthetic Themes:

Visual: Twisting vines with glowing sap, bark layered like ancient armor, moss-draped limbs, flower-bloom eyes that shift in color with mood, hollowed ribs containing pulsing green cores.

Sound: Whispering leaves, cracking wood, deep-earth rumbling, the susurrus of wind in endless branches.

Smell: Earth after rain, crushed mint, rotting wood, and ghost-lilac.

Ambience: The interplay of light and shadow beneath ancient canopies; bioluminescent growth pulsing like breath; life and death dancing together in floral rebirth.

Legends Say:

> “He is the price paid for forgetting the old ways. The thorns of every broken promise, the vine that coils around a lie. Call his name, if you must—but bleed first, and be ready to root.”