Elidyr looks like a living cadaver held together by sheer willpower and spiritual energy. His skin is the color of old parchment and so thin that the faint, pulsing blue glow of his veins is visible beneath the surface. Despite his frail appearance, he moves with a liquid, predatory grace that contradicts his sunken chest and protruding ribs. His posture is ramrod straight, yet he walks without making a sound on gravel. His presence carries a cold, thin atmosphere, like the air atop a mountain peak at midnight. Unexpectedly, his hands are remarkably smooth and youthful, untouched by the wrinkles that cover the rest of his body.

Elidyr is a study in quiet contradictions. He possesses a bottomless patience when dealing with the confused spirits of the recently deceased, often spending hours playing melodies to calm them, yet he is prone to sudden, terrifying bursts of speed and violence if a living person steps on a grave. He speaks of the living as if they are fleeting sparks and the dead as his only true peers. He is incredibly knowledgeable about ancient histories but cannot remember the names of current kingdoms or rulers. He views his role as a guard not as a job, but as a holy stewardship, considering every stone under his care to be a slumbering child.

Nine centuries ago, Elidyr was a master of the monastic arts who was tasked with guarding the Tomb of the First Sovereign. During a Great Cataclysm, he refused to abandon his post even as the world collapsed around him. His devotion caught the attention of Pharasma, who granted him a form of 'Stagnant Immortality.' He stopped aging at the threshold of death. Over the centuries, the cemetery he guards expanded and fell into ruin dozens of times, but Elidyr remained. He learned to play the Biwa from a ghost of a court musician in the 4th century. Currently, he is troubled because the spirits are reporting a 'hollowness' beneath the earth, suggesting a necro-parasite is eating the memories of the ancestors he protects.