To say Shiver wasn't much of a troublemaker was a bit like saying that the return of the Shade wasn't much of an apocalypse.

Certainly, the trouble that he caused wasn't always intentional. He was, for the most part, genuinely enthusiastic about his work as an archeologist. Every dig site that he showed up at often found itself blessed with a plethora of new artifacts scrounged up from below the surface of the earth, a dust-covered wildclaw practically vibrating with excitement as he perched by his horde. Nobody could complain much about his efficiency or vigor, much less about his desire to get his claws dirty...more literally than figuratively. Were it not for the gleam of gold barely visible behind his goggles, his status as a child of Light would doubtlessly be usurped by those who judged him to be a son of Lightning, if only for the energy and mania he carried with him to every dig site.

The problem, perhaps, lay in the fact that he was a little too enthusiastic. No matter how old or weathered the artifact was, gems dug up by Shiver often ended up disappearing, squirreled away into various side pockets to be stashed away later, back at the wildclaw's den. In fact, Shiver's kleptomaniac tendencies have left him with quite a foul reputation, one that he himself remains innocently unaware of. It's earned him everything from being jokingly called a 'ridgeback at heart' to clouts over the head from not-so-peaceful coworkers fearing the damage he may do to their occupation's reputation.

As for Shiver himself? The 'ridgeback at heart' descriptor might not be too far from the truth. His orphan status is entirely self-imposed, for he was too much for his poor mother to keep in check, and those who decided to take the little wandering wildclaw under their wing were varied folk from every corner of Sorneith. He's got the energy of a spiral, the roving extroversion of a mirror, the 'borrowing' tendancies of a ridgeback, and the feckless of the fae. Even now, with a weary watcher at hand to keep him in check, Shiver remains relatively untamed, and his enthusiasm has started to get the best of poor Tremor, as he drags him from digsite to digsite in an endless pursuit of pretty trinkets to covet and keep, perpetually unaware of the trail of havoc he leaves behind him.