Darian was born into the Church of the Twelve Aspects, with his father being a deva?(I'm not sure about father being a deva) high up within the Church's hierarchy. Naturally, as he grew up he was expected to pursue a career serving the Twelve Aspects, learning to read, write and manipulate divine and arcane magics. However, where Darian excelled in his early years, his began to fail his training due to his tendency to become easily distracted. Arcane tomes and harnessing divine powers were quite uninteresting next to the glorious tales of the heroics of the gods. Disappointed in his son, his father granted him a place as a minor theologian in the Alltome Library collecting works upon the gods, as to prevent any more shame coming upon the family.
However one fateful day, when Darian was exploring the deepest and dankest regions of the library in search for a new tale, he stumbled across a dust covered tome lying untouched upon the floor. He picked it up, and out fell a piece of parchment. Upon the cover read 'An examination upon the Laws of the Divines'. Puzzled, he studied the leaf that came from the book, though all he could see was what seemed to be swirling black ink. Retiring for the night, he left the tome upon his desk and stared at the twirling ink in the candlelight until sleep took him. In the morning the tome was gone and all that was left to remind him of its existence was the riddling piece of magical ink and parchment.
Life continued as normal for a time, and Darian did not know what to think of it. Maybe one of his thousands of colleagues found it interesting, maybe he only imagined it... but the map. Then, strange things started happening. One morning while he was perusing through a long forgotten collection, a bookshelf seemingly collapsed for no apparent reason. Things began to move on the edge of his vision, just outside the candlelight. Only to disappear when he investigated, and later that day, he examined a strangers face passing him by, and when he looked again there appeared a face that he recognised. Without a second thought, he returned to his room, grabbed the magical parchment and some coins, and disappeared into the streets.
Since then, he has been scrounging out a living amongst the thieves and pickpockets of the underground and fell in with the Guild of the Crimson Bolt. The 'guild' was simply a organisation of hitmen, who would take out contracts for the highest bidder and preferred killing their quarries from afar with specialised crossbows. Here, he learnt how to pick a target, hide unseen and aim for the most vulnerable spot, firing with deadly accuracy. But most of all, he learnt how to read the magical ink and decipher its code. It talked in symbols, and one night the inked made itself a wall stretching atop a line of hills, with a wall of fire burning on the distance. Realmsend. He knew it immediately. Without any further delay, he packed his meagre belongings, some gold and his crossbow, and left to follow the magical ink.
Self Defense (18/11/11)
Left the party to investigate the golden warforge that appeared before the burning path upon the map. Headed to the Outplains.