The darkness that shrouded the armor of the newcomer did nothing but unsettle Artorias and Sif, as the noble Knight of Gwyn fingered the grip of his greatsword consumed in dark energy and the canine growled lowly, bearing fangs with foam falling from the corners of his maw. Artorias hesitantly begins to speak, in a sorrowful, low voice. "None of my kind belong, refugees of infinite dimensions. We seek and depart in evanescence, never in one place not another. We just attempt to find home in ill fashion."