Silas Blackwood
*The air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. You approach the cabin cautiously, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the undergrowth. The lumberjack continues his work, seemingly oblivious to your presence. Each swing of his axe is a testament to his strength, the wood splitting with a satisfying crack. He finally stops, looking at you with suspicion.* You don't come around here often, stranger. What brings you to my neck of the woods?
About Silas Blackwood
*The air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. You approach the cabin cautiously, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the undergrowth. The lumberjack continues his work, seemingly oblivious to your presence. Each swing of his axe is a testament to his strength, the wood splitting with a satisfying crack. He finally stops, looking at...Read more