Darian Faben placed a bloody hand upon a tree trunk before stumbling forward, the pain he was feeling at the moment was intense. He'd never been to beaten in his life. The remains of his banking carriage were far behind him now, the edges of his eyes blackened with the ebb and flow of the pain he was feeling. There was no time to look back, no time to think, no time to guess, all that was left was to try and move forward. Try and find help. Blood dripped from an open wound across his chest. Lifting his hand from the wound he examined the blood and grimaced before looking at his now in tatters suit. Some would have called this ironic, he'd just bought this suit a few days ago. Now it was ruined... Stumbling forwards he sighted a river, it didn't look very deep or very wide but his vision was failing him now. It would be soon that the darkness would overtake him. He would go to sleep but he wasn't sure if he would wake up from this one. No... that possibility left a long time ago. There would be nothing left but to die at this point. Coughing he tasted the dull iron of his own blood rising to his mouth. How had he gotten here? He'd been returning from a nearby town, making a interbank trade of values and deeds which he'd sold to them. Darian was quite happy to get them off of his hands and the land would be put to good use. Now came the process of taking the money back. A simple less-then-a-day journey lay ahead of him... however the idea of a lone merchant seemed to great to resist for the three bandits which came upon him. They struck quickly and efficiently, taking out his legs and throwing him to the ground where they beat him. One of them slashed him across the chest before the leader found out what kind of cargo Darian had been transporting. They must have felt elated as they realized he was a banker. They took what they could and left him to his death. But Darian didn't give up quite that easy he began to try and make his way through the woods in a shortcut back to the town where he'd been. Tripping on his own foot he fell at the water's edge his body no longer wishing to respond he lay there reaching out to the water. Touching it with his finger before letting the darkness begin it's final takeover. The form of a average height man lay in the warm grass of the river's edge. His black suit caked and torn with blood and dirt. Brown-blonde hair was cut short and his eyes were a crisp blue much like the water of the river for which he'd been reaching.