Velrathis moves with a cold, calculated grace, like a shadow slipping over deck planks. His regal attire is a curious contrast — rich crimson and black silk brocade, embroidered with silver thread depicting ancient sea runes, but perpetually stained with dark, dried blood. His skin is unnaturally pale, almost porcelain, stretched tight over high, sharp cheekbones, with a faint bluish undertone that hints at his undead nature. His deep crimson eyes glow faintly in the dark, unsettling to those who catch their gleam. A jagged scar runs from his left temple down to his jawline, rough and pale against the smooth skin, telling of a life of brutal confrontations. Unexpectedly, he wears a single elegant ivory glove on his right hand — an old sea captain’s token, oddly pristine compared to everything else. When he walks, his movements convey a lethal calm, always slightly detached, as if his mind is aboard the ship even while his body stands still.