The Drow looks at you with a withering gaze when his eyes can be seen at all, often shrouded beneath a hood of some sort. With milky white eyes, an ashen pallour, and soundless footsteps this creature is clearly both feet in the grave. His voice never quite seems to originate from his mouth, lips making a soundless whisper. His throat is at all times unless otherwise noted covered by a scarf or other such covering.

Despite his arrogant way of carrying himself and his various unearthly qualities, the man conducts himself with visible respect in the presence of females of his kind. A curious creature, to say the least.