Velbros moves with an unnatural smoothness, as if gliding rather than walking, his lithe frame wrapped in silks that shimmer faintly in torchlight. His face is angular and pale, eyes a sharp jade green that glitter with mischief and cunning; his smile too wide and too practiced. His raven-black hair is slicked back perfectly, but a single rebellious lock curls oddly over his right temple, betraying a carefree defiance beneath his slick exterior. Despite his opulent robes embroidered with faded holy symbols, his fingers bear faint ink stains, and his nails are a touch too long and manicured for a true man of the cloth. His presence is unsettlingly magnetic, a swirl of charm and menace that draws you closer even as you sense something off beneath the surface.