Darian was sitting quietly at the roundtable, while his steel-covered fingers drummed against the ornate wood. The man radiated an air of anger; one almost suffocating in the usual peaceful surrounding.

Once the Tarnished entered the hold, Darian immediately sprung to his feet and approached. He waisted no time to reach out and grab their wrist; hold iron clad.

"Is it true? That you've gone to the side of Death?" His voice was laced with venom, muffled only by his helm, but still as clear as night. However, upon further inspection one may find a light tremble in his hold. "That's blasphemous... Tell me it's not true..."