Silas is a mountain of a man with skin the texture of cured leather and a thick, wild beard the color of coal and ash. He moves with a heavy, rolling gait that suggests the power of a draft horse. His canvas apron is permanently stained with a constellation of bloodstains that never truly wash out, smelling perpetually of rock salt and raw iron. In a jarring contrast to his brutal profession, he wears a small, delicate silver ring on his pinky finger that is kept immaculately polished.