The night Llethyr was born in the sky was ripped by a hundred of silvery streaks, racing past the small woodelven village where he would soon live in.
Because of this special event, his parents gave him the nickname "Shootingstar".
His parents are Aasimalya Moonglitter and Cyrdal Moonglitter.

Aasimalya is one of the druids of the village and so highly respected by all. Though still young even for elven standards she married quite soon.
Cyrdal was the happiest elf that day, a strong hunter of the village with the same strong heart.
Given these two parents "Shootingstar's" life should find some very interesting aspects.

"Llethyr! Didn't I tell you to get us some bunnies?"
"But atar', I was busy, really! It never held so long and the feeling was so intense I couldn't stop..."

His father stepped outside on the plattform of their home, high above the ground, gently pushing a couple twigs out of the way to see his son. There was his pride, sitting on the ground, his legs crossed over each other. The hair was always the first he had to look upon, since it had happened. Red wasn't unusual at all for a woodelf but the silver-white strand that ran down on the left front of his face was the miracle.

Well, his father thought, maybe not that unusal if we consider him playing with his mothers equipment!
When his father was close enough he stopped, looked down into his son's sparkling green eyes and knelt down.

"So tell me, Llethyr, what happened? What was it that once again drew your attention from your service to the family and the hunters? What can it possibly be that prevents you from learning the use of the bow, the skill of the sword, to hone your muscles and strengthen your speed? What was it this time?"

Llethyr, still grinning like the mischievous boy he was, had at least the respect to turn as red as his hair. Like Father's hair. He blew that silver-white strand out of his face, then tugged with his left hand on a feather that tangled down along another strand of long hair.

"Atar', I did it! I communicated with D'arran! He even responded and played some tricks for me! And then I was able to see through his eyes! And and...and..."

Cyrdal frowned a moment as his mind tried to catch up to what he just heard. Trying to calm his son with his hand on one of his shoulders he called to Aasimalya to come outside. She was quite busy nowadays, though he wasn't sure why. Every member of the druids was. But not even the oldest elves knew what was going on and since they respected their druids there would be respected. Though Cyrdal didn't like the secret behavior...especially from his wife.

The skin that protected the entrance to their home flapped open as a strikingly beautiful woodelven female stepped into the midsummer sunshine, her pure black hair almost sucking in all of it, just to give it back to the world in a bright sparkling from her blue eyes. The contrast was simply amazing, and it had been only one of the reasons why Cyrdal had fallen for this woman.

Aasimalya reached both of them and kneeled down, looking from one to the other. Her son's mischievous grin was there, like almost always and the slight smile of her husband, her mela.

"What is wrong? What happened here?"

"I did it atara'! I communicated with D'arran! I've done as you told me and then it simply happened!"

Aasimalya looking into "Shootingstars" eyes, then suddenly hugged him tightly with a huge smile on her lips. Ignoring the strong frown of confusion and being-let-out look of her husband she started to giggle happily.

"You did it! Finally! I knew you had the gift! Now we can..."

"Now wait a second, please. What's this all about? Gift? Could someone please explain this to me?"

Mother and son looked at Cyrdal a second, then started to chuckle and giggle together in shared joy.
"Of course, mela", started his wife "it's his gift he recieved upon his birth from my side. The gift of a druid. Yet, before you say anything else melamin, I know your plans were that he would follow the path of a Ranger. This may still be, though this gift will grow in time and take alot of his training away. He is special in this..."

"Llethyr? Llethyr where are you?"

Footsteps unheard by anything else that was not animal moved over the soft forest ground, the leaves making not even the slightest rustling noise. Tender ears perked up a little to take in every other sound: the whistling of the wind, the far howl of a wolf or the trickling of water dropping from a trees branch into a little pool of water. Eyes like the purest of Amethysts darted from one side to the other, unaware of "his" presence.
The blood left her face as she saw a shadow passing her right side, or maybe it had been just her imagination? She couldn't be too sure. Even with her night-vision it was hard to make out anything in the deep woods around their home.

With the speed of a hunting catlike predator something dropped on top of her, pressing her flat to the ground. The air left her lungs, panic spilled up inside of her, fingernails digging into the dirt beneath her as she tried to get control of the situation. Cold sweat ran down in the mere seconds of this encounter that seemed to last an eternity to her.

Chuckling? Was that chuckling she heard? With a mighty push from her elbows she lifted herself and the burden on her back upwards, the chuckling sound disappearing to her right with a "bonk".
There he sat, on his very bottom, holding his belly and chuckling like the mischievous boy he was.

"Llethyr "Shootingstar" Moonglitter! How dare you scare me like that! Oh wait, next time I'll punish you that you'll forget what color D'arrans feathers have!"

"Oh Amethyst, loveliest of all The People, you should have seen your face! Boooo! It was so funny!"

She threw a stick at him and while he was distracted for a moment fending it off she charged. Yet again his agility was a tad better than hers and he was gone in a swift move.

They both hunted each other for another two hours until they returned home.
Amethyst Silverwillow had been his childhood-friend since he had been 10 years young.
He had been trained for years at his father side until the day when he finally burst through
the blockade of his gift, the side of his mother.
Since then he had trained more his druidic side but never left the Hunters path behind for long.

So after a couple more years, at his 86th season of life, he was about to finish both educations.
Quite young even among the elves, yet understandable under the tutelage of such parents.
While Amethyst would still go on for a while, he had succeeded in becoming a rare Ranger, suited
with Druidic powers and uniting the abilities of bow-shootinmg and sword-wielding.

"Amethyst? What are you thinking right now?"

Stars twinkled over their heads. A crescent moon stared down at them in his milky-white color, turning the two young woodelves into two more shadows of the night.
They sat on a high branch in their favorite old Tree, her leaning against his chest while he leaned against the strong tree itself.
They stared at the beauty of a summers night. Amethyst had finished her education just a few days ago. The joy had been great and so was it still.

In the years that passed the two childhood-friends had come closer to each other, yet they were still just friends.

"I wonder what the future holds for us, Shootingstar. I mean, our destinies, our service to The People, to our families. Scared, that's what I am. At least a little...but I don't know why."

He smiled at her back, his piercing eyes watching her completely black hair in more ways than anyone could comprehend.

"Don't break your head, silly woodelf! We'll know, the gods, especially Corellon, are watching over us. Everything will be as always...."

And as if that had been the special command, the night turned into the Abyss.

First they had thought it had been just another shooting star. Though the noise that had followed it wouldn't fit anything they knew. The air smelled unusually damp and the sounds of the animals of the night were gone as well.
When suddenly a scream pierced the night they knew that something horrible had just started.
As fast as they could they left the security of their tree, half jumping down the same to reach the bottom faster.
They both hit the ground running, racing torward the village that lay a few minutes away from their shelter.
Amethyst had gained alot in the last years, matching Llethyrs unique understanding of silence and speed in the woods.
So two shadows raced through the pitch black of the forest. Yet it would be too late, so they feared.

They stormed right into it. Into the clearing that once had held the beauty they called home. The stench of death filled
the air even more and so they knew where the dampness had come from.
Holding his scimitar in one hand and wielding crackling nature's energy in the other, Llethyr's eyes were wide in horror and disbelief.
Death was everywhere. Blood was everywhere. The ground piled up with dead bodies of his, of their family.

"N'umaaaaaaaaaa!"

Another scream pierced through the night, but this one was filled with anger, with suffering and hate.
Llethyr dropped to his knees, right beside a cruely slain corpse. His head dropped on the once beautiful male woodelf, his hands clawing the muscular chest.

"Atar! Atar! It can't...it can't be true! What is happening here!"

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, seeking to comfort him. Though Amethyst's intention was noble among the horror they were, her childhood-friend slapped the hand away. His face nearly hidden by his long her, those green eyes pierced through her very soul when he gazed up at her.
Not leaving her gaze the young boy took the long knife of his fathers body and ,without hesitating, wipped it along his foramrs, drawing forth blood.

"Llethyr, what are you doing! Are you insane! Wait, I'll tend to..."

Llethyr jumped up and pushed her backwards with a bloody open hand.

"N'uma! Don't even dare touching me again. Touch me and I might hurt you, do you understand? Just leave me alone."

"But I have to....your arms...? Come, eversthign will.."

"DIDN'T I JUST TELL YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The voice, dripping with suffering and hate shot right into Amethysts face and heart. Llethyr then turned around and moved through the slain village, torward their home....their once home.
Amethyst, who still stood there for a moment, watching with wide eyes his back, followed slowly. Tears ran down her eyes as she looked over her family, now dead. But instead of closing her heart she opened it for the good memories she held, to help her getting faster over the great weight of the loss.

His fathers scimitar. Fathers long, finely crafted elven longbow. His well-worn but protective leather armor. A pouch of mothers herbs. Some bandages. Arrows, those as well....

Llethyr wandered through his old tree-home, taking what he thought he needed. His eyes were still slits, the once mischievous glittering all gone. He then put on the armor of his father, slung the belt with the scimitar around his hip and took the bow into his free hand. The quiver hang already at the belt and so did the pouch as he, the once happy woodelf, stared at the special place of his mother.

"Atara', I hope I won't see you here, lying dead with the others. I hope you escaped, though forgive me but I cannot search for you. Not here, nor anywhere. I have to take revenge for our people."

His gaze swept again over the alchemistical things, remembering for a split moment how he got that silvery-white strand of hair. Once he had been as curious as a cat, at the age of 20 or so. He had wanted to know everything and so it didn't take long -without heeding the word of warning from his mother- until he would mix something together in the little room. It had smelled so tasty and also looked like it, so it had been hard to resist the urge to drink it. And so he did. All he remembered then was that he woke up in his bed, his head pounding and his mother sitting at his side with a very worried look.

Memories. With a final growl of purest hate he shut close the door to this and all the memories. Only one should remain: Death!

"I shall go and seek out others of my suffering. I swear once more I will bring suffering and death to the drow, wherever

I will meet one. Until upon my own death I will hunt them until this seed has been eradicated!"

With those words he left the building, climbed down the huge tree and vanished into the woods, off to search for his faith.

And the faith he found. Weeks later he found a temple built at a mountains age, close to an opening where drow could normally be found quite often. He joined those and also joined to the cause of Shevarash, the Black Archer, the Night Hunter, the Arrow Bringer. Bringer of doom to the drow.
He spend several years there, learning techniques of hunting drow. Within three years he recieved more and more attention of his god through the dark hatred that he wielded in his heart.
Only one thing fueled his fire, only one thing kept him alive: The destructiion of Drow!