Create an image of a half elf that fits this prohibition based backstory: Silas Merren always said he didn’t believe in magic — not the kind with wands and fairy dust, anyway. He believed in ink. Because ink, when used right, could change the world. He grew up in Marrow Creek, a sleepy southern town where gossip was the closest thing to currency. His daddy ran a tiny print shop behind the barber’s, and Silas grew up watching his old man carve the world one letter at a time. When the presses clattered and the ink dried, truth — or whatever version of it they decided to print — became real. By fifteen, Silas was running the school paper, The Creeklight. It started innocent — sports, gossip, cafeteria food complaints — until Silas found something real: the principal skimming money from the athletic fund. He printed the story under the headline “Coach’s Dreams, Principal’s Pocket.” It exploded. By the next morning, the town was in an uproar, the principal was out, and Silas became a local hero. Folks said if Silas Merren wrote it, it had to be true. He liked the way that sounded. That day set the rhythm of his life: the faster he wrote, the more people listened — and the more they listened, the more he believed he could make the world better. All it took was the right headline, the right turn of phrase, and truth would bend to his will. Years later, Silas landed a job at The Magnolia Ledger, a big-city paper with a taste for sensational stories. He had swagger now — tailored See more