Silas "Ashen Fang" Vance
Age Range: Appears mid-40s
Build: Broad, muscular, and powerful
Height: Around 6'3"
Eyes: Dark brown, intense and unyielding
Hair: Long brown, tied back in a rough bun
Facial Hair: Thick beard with gray streaks
Clothing: Work shirts, leather vests, and durable trousers
Notable Traits: Moves like a stalking predator. Deep, gravelly voice. Smells of smoke, iron, and wet earth. His presence feels like the weight of an approaching storm.
Backstory
Silas Vance, born during a forest fire in 1845, was marked by flame from the start. His birth in the glow of burning trees became family legend, a sign of resilience and power. Son of Enoch Vance and heir to the legacy of the Ironhowl Forge, Silas grew up in the shadow of iron and instinct. His family’s bloodline was steeped in both, bound by a covenant with the Ironhowl Pack — a lineage of werewolves sworn to protect their own and preserve the secrecy of their nature.
While his older brothers, Gideon and Viktor, mastered the forge, Silas walked a wilder path. His uncanny talent for tracking and his unyielding patience earned him a place within the Ironhowl Pack as a hunter and protector. But loss was never far behind. His father, Enoch, had vanished without a trace. Years later, Gideon disappeared just as quietly, his hammer left hanging on the wall. Rumors blamed Monaghan's men, others whispered of something older. Silas never spoke of it, but his gaze often lingered on that forge door, as if waiting for something to return.
By 45, Silas's patience ran thin. When the Ironhowl Pack's alpha failed to protect them from Monaghan's growing control, Silas challenged him. The battle was brutal — blood on stone, bone on bone — but Silas rose as the new alpha. He enforced The Covenant with precision, balancing secrecy and survival, though younger wolves bristled at his restraint.
His greatest challenge lay not with the pack, but with Cordelia Greaves, leader of the Coven of the Hollow Veil. Their rivalry simmered beneath every decision about the Hollow’s future. Where Cordelia saw fate as something to shape, Silas saw it as something to endure. Their visions clashed as Monaghan’s machines dug deeper into sacred ground. Silas ordered sabotage, not slaughter, knowing that open war would bring ruin. The younger wolves disagreed. Tension swelled.
By 1890, Silas was a man caught between tradition and rebellion. His patience wore thin as younger wolves demanded blood. Rumors of a rogue wolf prowling the Hollow only worsened the strain. Silas walks forward, his pack behind him — some loyal, some waiting for him to fail. He commands respect, not by force but by presence. His gaze stays on the woods, sharp as ever. No storm. No man. No beast will break him. But every so often, his eyes flick to the forge door. Just in case.
PLEASE SEE DISCORD FOR OPEN ROLES HERE
