Description: Shaggy dark brown hair hangs around his face, not going much further down than collar-length, but certainly less well kept than some nobles might keep their hair. Shots of light golden streaks decorate his hair from prolonged exposure to the sun that has blanched the color from the otherwise dark locks. His skin also is tan, lines from laughter and squinting against sunlight decorate the outside corners of his bright blue eyes. There's an ease to his smiles, and a clear care taken towards being in shape, but the sort of in shape that comes from hard labor and not just playing at being a soldier. His hands are rough, decorated with scars from years weilding a blade.

Personality: Quick to smile, always willing to share a drink and a conversation, he has the sort of good-natured boy next door attitude that seems at significant odds with the evidence of a hard, rough life of a soldier that is written across his appearance. As quick as he is to smile he can be equally as quick to pick a fight over something that he believes strongly in. But like everything else about him, he can fight hard, and depending on the exact situation once the fight is over that may be it, something that can be set aside as a resolved issue.

Background: Some people have rotten luck, and they crumble beneath the weight of all that bad luck. But not Darian. Despite being the youngest son of a now defunct and dead noble family he has never let these facts get him down. When he was young, roughly five or so as near as he can remember, his family as a whole was slaughtered. It was messy, and there was no pretense at hiding the fact they were kiled for a reason instead of it being just casual accidents. Darian could not tell you how it was he managed to survive, and escape, what was the ruins of the rest of his family. Eventually he resurfaced on another island, the ward of another noble family.

THe knew he was an orphan, and although he wasn't treated badly he was not given all the nice trappings of the birth children of that family either. He worked for his keep, joining the family militia, training to be a soldier with them, even learning some ways of ship-board war when it was required. Despite all this hardship he remained positive, he new that one day he'd get what he was searching for.

THe set sail with many of his brothers-in-arms to fight in Setarco, seeing things there that he would swear were not real if it had been months before. But he saw them, and it has opened his eyes to a great many things, a reality that life was once more changing for him. After the battles, during the clean up efforts he parted ways with the family that had sheltered him since he was a child, setting sail for Nilanza and the rumors that he heard about the remains of what was House Argento's holdings. It was there that he met the Marquessa, and was extended an invitation that seems impossible for him to refuse.

Swearing his heart to the family, as well as his sword-arm, he went to work helping to rebuild, eventually sailing for Arx itself.