A shadow rose behind Drizzit, an perfectly calculated hiss alerting the elf to the prescence of the stranger behind him.
The cloaked figure had no flesh visible, instead he was covered head to toe in a dark, jet-black armor, a tattered brown cloak wrapped around the torso. Two slits in the helmet glowed red, and as he looked down at the Dark Elf, Drizzit could see that he rarely breathed, but when he did it made a metallic hiss and cold air wafted from the helmet.
The being spoke, its voice distinctly male, but incredible cold, one could say creepy. Rasping in a way that beguiled the listener in its alacrity, it's voice was devoid of emotion.
"My name is Morias. Death is my companion, and my occupation. I will accompany you to your city."