Silas is an unusually well-groomed man for a barbarian. He stands tall with a lean, muscular build hidden beneath expensive, albeit slightly worn, violet silks and fine leather. His dark hair is slicked back with aromatic oils, and his goatee is trimmed to a sharp point. Despite his refined clothing, his knuckles are scarred and a massive greataxe is strapped to his back, looking curiously out of place against his merchant's finery.

Silas is a fast talker who prefers to charm his way into a vault rather than break the door down. He uses humor as a shield and is rarely seen without a playful, crooked smirk. He considers himself a sophisticated urbanite, but he possesses a hair-trigger temper that lies just beneath his silver-tongued surface. When his carefully constructed lies fall apart, the city boy vanishes and a terrifyingly focused brute takes his place.

Silas Vane was never supposed to be a warrior. Born into the soot-stained alleys of a trade metropolis, he survived by his wits, running long-game scams on visiting dignitaries. He spent years perfecting the art of the 'Disinherited Prince,' bleeding gullible merchants dry with promises of future rewards. He loved the thrill of the con, the delicate dance of deception, and the fine wine that his marks' gold could buy. Everything changed when a rival syndicate caught him in the act and attempted to make an example of him in the city sewers. Surrounded and beaten, Silas felt a strange, boiling heat rise from his gut. He did not beg for mercy. Instead, he snapped. He woke up hours later surrounded by splintered wood and broken men, his fine clothes soaked in crimson. The realization that he possessed a dormant, savage fury terrified and exhilarated him. He realized that the city was no longer safe, but the wild frontier offered a new kind of mark, people who respected strength as much as status. He took his weighted dice and his axe, heading into the unknown to see if he could swindle the gods themselves.