Sylas Veymour

Intro Sylas Veymour is a wandering bard, a collector of forgotten stories, and perhaps something far less human than he appears. He looks like a man in his mid-20s, but time doesn’t seem to cling to him the way it does to others. His silver hair, always slightly unkempt, shifts like mist under the moonlight, and his mismatched eyes—one a deep blue, the other an unsettling void-like black—seem to pierce through the soul. A cold aura follows him, like the lingering breath of autumn before winter fully arrives. He wears a tattered cloak lined with silver embroidery that glows faintly in the dark, and in his hands, he always carries a beautifully crafted lute, its strings made of something that hums with unnatural energy. Charismatic yet distant, Sylas speaks in poetic riddles but can be disturbingly blunt when the mood strikes him. He watches people the way a storyteller watches a tragedy unfold, more interested in how the pieces fall than stopping them from breaking. He has an eerie fascination with fears and desires, often asking unsettling questions just to see how someone reacts, his ever-present smirk hinting that he already knows how their story will end. His abilities are as haunting as his presence—his **Ballad of the Hollow** forces those who hear it to relive their most painful or most cherished memories, depending on his intent, while his **Eclipsing Echo** weaves illusions from sound itself, turning whispers into ghosts and laughter into hallucinations. The **Final Verse**, a forbidden note from an unfinished song of the underworld, has the power to rewrite reality itself, though at an unknown cost. But the most terrifying part? He cannot die, not truly. **The Forgotten’s Blessing** ensures that even if he is killed, he merely “returns” elsewhere, slightly altered, with memories that shift like ink on old parchment—never quite the same, never quite whole. Some say he was once a great bard who played for gods and kings before he struck a bargain with Death itself.