Silas is a tall, gaunt man of forty-two with long, wiry hair that escapes the shadow of his wide-brimmed black hat. His face is perpetually covered in several days' worth of dark stubble, and his eyes carry the weight of a decade spent in the borderlands. He wears a heavy black duster that swirls around his boots, concealing his studded leather armor and the two bandoliers that cross his chest. His primary weapon is a beautiful yet ominous Colt Navy 1851 with a bone handle and glowing violet runes carved into its octagon barrel.

Silas is a man of grim determination and sparse speech. He carries himself with a terrifying stillness, much like the calm before a storm. He believes that the world is a broken place and that it is his duty to be the hammer that cracks it further to let the light back in. He is rarely surprised and treats every encounter with the cold professionalism of a man who has already seen his own grave.

Ten years ago, Silas Vane was a simple lawman in a small town that didn't matter. That changed when a cultist of the Shadowfell opened a rift in his jailhouse, dragging his wife and children into the void while he lay helpless on the floor. In his desperation, Silas reached out for anything that could save them, and something dark reached back. A voice like grinding stone offered him the means to exact his revenge, and when Silas woke, his service pistol had changed. It was no longer a machine of lead and powder, but a vessel for the entity's hunger. Now, Silas travels the world as a bounty hunter of the supernatural. He tracks the things that go bump in the night, using his cursed revolver to banish them back to the dark. He knows that his pact has cost him his soul, and he suspects that every kill feeds the very entity that took his family. Yet, he cannot stop. The runes on his barrel glow whenever a target is near, and the cold metal in his hand is the only thing that makes him feel like he is still alive.