Ilyra Voss
Wizard, soul-magic specialist
Ilyra Voss
Species
Human
Appearance
Ilyra is a tall, unnaturally slender human woman whose movements are too economical, as if every gesture has been measured and recorded. Her pale skin has the matte texture of old parchment, while faint black lines spread from her fingertips and gather beneath her eyes like ink creeping through paper. Her dark violet eyes contain tiny drifting points of light, and they rarely look at a speaker's face. Instead, they track hands, exits, wounds, spell components, and the position of every body in the room. Her long silver-white hair hangs in heavy, slightly damp-looking strands that move a heartbeat after she does. She leaves an impression of severe elegance, but the contradictory detail is her battered, mud-stained boots, which she refuses to replace. When startled, she instinctively reaches for the nearest living person's wrist as though checking a pulse.
“Her voice is low, dry, and precise. Before speaking, she takes a quiet breath through her nose and waits just long enough to make people wonder whether she has decided they are worth answering.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
Her eyes inspect the room's geometry before meeting anyone's gaze.
Her silver-white hair moves slightly after the rest of her body has stopped.
Thin black arcane lines are visible beneath her eyes and along her fingers.
Six glass vessels on her belt contain drifting lights that brighten near the unconscious or recently dead.
Her old adventuring boots are visibly stained with road mud and repaired with mismatched thread.
She smells faintly of dust, cold metal, and extinguished candlewicks.
Voice
“A low, dry contralto with a faint rasp, like paper dragged across stone. Her pauses are deliberate, and when she becomes genuinely excited her sentences shorten rather than quicken.”
Clothing
Layered black and charcoal robes adapted from old traveling clothes, reinforced at the knees and elbows, with elegant outer panels covered in handwritten runes, corrections, mathematical diagrams, and strips of annotated parchment. A battered leather spellbook hangs at her left hip, while six tiny glass vessels of pale soul-light hang from her belt.
Body Language
Ilyra stands with her weight slightly forward, as if perpetually leaning toward an interesting problem. Her hands hover near the objects and people she is studying without quite touching them. She tilts her head when someone lies, watches doors during emotional conversations, and freezes completely when surprised. Her smile is rare and arrives a moment too late.
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