The Merics are an old and respectable family that have lived within the walls of ElvanDar since its foundation. The buildings that the family have occupied gradually grew over the years, but the Merics have never been wealthy. Every generation of the Merics has laid up one of its sons, or fathers, or brothers to rest in a burial overseen by a cleric of Taniel.

Tarantin Meric, Alamar's father, emerged from the ranks of the city guard by saving the captain of the Queen's guard in the infamous Battle of the North Fork when the giants had come down with the support of orcs and other greenskins all the way to the gates of ElvanDar itself. The Elven army, though ultimately victorious, had come into serious trouble when the middle broke and the rout carried all the way back to where the Queen herself and her captains were ordering the counter-charge. Captain Valanion himself led the charge and Tarantin stood by him throughout the action, firing his bow until his quiver was spent and then taking up a blade to continue the attack. And it may have been luck, though all the Merics claim that it was his innate skill and precision with the blade, when a wounded giant loomed up in an attempt to crush Valanion that Tarantin leaped nimbly ahead and severed the giant's tendon behind the knee. Valanion saw it, of course, and also saw when Tarantin leaped atop the wounded giant and severed its head. From then on the Merics were looked upon favorably by the city, and though the Queen had and still has no knowledge of them aside from a name in her tax rolls, Captain Valanion remembered Tarantin's act and still does when he comes across the retired soldier in the streets of ElvanDar.

Alamar grew up with a brother and a sister of full elven lineage, but in his fifty's (very young for an elf) his mother suddenly died. Tarantin, Alamar's father, was so stricken that he took to traveling far into the wilds for months at a time and eventually made his way to ArboRea where he fell in love with a young human woman, married her, and brought her back to ElvanDar. As the eldest son, Alamar did not adjust to his stepmother easily and left home at the first chance.

Alamar's travels brought him down from the north and into the lands of ArboRea where he struggled to scratch a living out for months on end. He nearly starved to death on several occasions, but always managed to find something that the other hunters had overlooked. It was during one of his hunting trips that he met Vurdijak, a ranger of great renown, who taught Alamar how to fend for himself, build campfires, hunt and skin, shoot, hide and all of the other skills so crucial to survival in the wilds. And so it was that Alamar became a ranger and advanced quickly through their ranks.

The Great Hunts: Many years of great hunts ensued for the young ranger. Vurdijak had taken him under his wing, but now Alamar grew strong as a young ranger. He assisted in the death of Mira at a great battle on the scrag bridge in the tundra, where Alamar's skill with a blade was first noticed... and more importantly his willingness to hunt evil. He assisted in taking Kaspars captive in a later fight and proved his loyalty to Taniel, the divinity of his home city of ElvanDar.

But he also fell prey to the blade of Kaspars in an infamous duel upon that same bridge where the Sathonite cleric killed him in a single mighty blow when he was weakened from fighting the scrag. Still, even while Kaspars stood over his body and gloated at his revenge, the cleric showed a scrap of honour to the young ranger and allowed him to reclaim his gear. For Alamar it was a time of great confusion and anger at being bested with the blade... a weapon to which he had devoted himself.

The need for revenge boiled within the young ranger. He took to journeying on his own for weeks at a time. He would hunt a band of ogres or goblins down to their homes and kill every one of them before gathering their scalps and bringing them back to ElvanDar... then he would disappear again. Alamar was made a packmaster for his efforts, and fought alongside Brand and Vurdijak, his old mentor. Under their guidance the guild grew and prospered... Nabanja, Arthur, and Ralph were soon joined by Atrophius, Ezdreli, and Fench. Not all were happy with his choices: Dax left the guild... and Hsparks as well.

With the pack so strong, the rangers began to become more aggressive. JezZ fell to them upon the southern Scrag bridge. Atrophius challenged Kaspars to a duel and defeated him in a fair combat, while Alamar watched with jealous anger off to the side. He had always admired Atrophius, but as he watched his old friend defeating his mortal enemy... something else awoke within him. He could not live without killing Kaspars with his own two hands... and he spent months in the wilds before he got his chance in the ogre cauldron. There, after slipping past the skull sentry that Kaspars had left, Alamar found tracks, hunted the priest to where he was fighting, and got his revenge. A small spark was ignited within the young elf as he stood over his enemy's fallen corpse. He knew that Kaspars' god would bring him back to do his work upon Forostar, but Alamar had been the one to kill him... and he howled like a bloody wolf at his victory.

Crusaders began to take notice of the little band, and began trying to force them to see their own point of view and join them in the holy crusade against the Sathonites and Order. But, while Alamar leaped at the chance to exact revenge upon his old enemies, the rangers began to fall apart. Atrophius and Ezdreli fell prey to assassins from Atrophius' homeland, Brand disappeared into hiding, Vurdijak returned back to his home among the barbarians of the tundra... and Gen murdered Ralph.

Once again Alamar took up the wolf... he found that Gen was on his way from Asador down to the tundra, raced to the tundra entrance and waited... for hours he waited... and watched... and finally he saw Gen enter and, by some stroke of luck, sat down to rest only feet from where Alamar had set his ambush. Alamar took him in a rush and the wolf within him howled again.

The Transformation... (According to Alamar)

The head fell to the ground, bounced once, and then rolled to a stop. Ezekeil's head, a cleric of Taniel.

The crowd that had gathered in the town square gasped almost as one. There had been a heated discussion between the Ranger captain and the young cleric, but all were shocked when the cleric called up to Taniel and began to unleash miracles on Alamar. It was shameful, many were to say later, but it was not nearly as shocking as what happened next...

Alamar drew his blade, snarled like a wolf, though others would later say that it was closer to a "Demon possessed," and beheaded the young cleric. A constable looked as though me might move to arrest the captain, but a look at the ranger's eyes and bearing told him that this was not wise. After all, the elf was a captain of Her Majesty's rangers, what was the meaning of this? The crowd did not know and most withdrew quietly, leaving the head where it lay, lifeless and cold.

The ranger flicked the blood from his blade, took a sip of water from the well, and sank down into meditation. Serenity filled him, but it would not last. A wolf that served ElvanDar and Taniel was acceptable, but one who lost his temper was not.

"The hothead." Alamar thought to himself as he looked at the decaying corpse of Ezekeil. "Foolish hothead."

But as he sat there, the weight of his actions began to sink in, and for the first time in many years, fear crept back into his heart. Justified or not, wrath had claimed his heart and darkness began to gnaw at him.

(Many months later...)

Shadows deepened over the lands as night fell. The darkelf's silver eyes opened and he rose from the small cave where he had made a temporary shelter from the storm. The predator stood and watched the sun slowly sink beneath the Giat Mountains, fading into the west.

It was a familiar cave, one that he had used for many years. When he was a young elf he had come here with his father and mother... back when they were alive... back when he was an elf. He had used it as a mountain refuge when he was a ranger. A place to store rope, furs, meat, and extra arrows.

He had used it as an outlaw, when he had crawled painfully up there... skin half melted away by his torturers. But he had sloughed that skin away like a snak and had left it aside. He much preferred his new body... pale skin, taller and stronger frame, and sharp teeth... carnivorous teeth. Now he used the cave as it was intended, the lair of a predator.

He glanced down at his small row of trophies. Some had molded down to old skulls; some still dripped with the blood of their former owners. Heads stared back at him, even as he smiled at them. Every race was represented there... Humans, Elves, Half-elves, Halflings, Dwarves, and Tshaharks. But he liked the Tshahark heads most of all... he liked the way their eyes looked the same in death as they did in life: half-opened, dull, and stupid.

The thought brought a malicious little chuckle. "Finished." He whispered to himself as he stroked one of his marble-white hands across the forehead of one dwarf in particular. "Almost finished."

Somewhere, in some remote corner of his darkened thoughts, a tiny voice nagged at the edge of his consciousness. He would never be finished, just as no one could ever eat so much that they were ever truly full. But he did not dwell upon such thoughts. He was a predator, a hunter, and there was no room for doubt or hesitation in his mind.

The sun slipped below the mountains and his eyes, the same silvery eyes that he had possessed as an elf, began to glitter coldly in the darkness. He glanced back to the small cave and to his trophies, checked his traveling gear, and began to stalk down the foothills to the hunt.

(I end it the story here temporarily... I will add specific tales and/or logs for really great fights, and much more needs to be added in the space between Ezekeil's death and Alamar being a darkelf -- Kaspars will figure prominently in that part of the story -- but I wanted to give a basic "before and after" picture of Alamar... I leave it to your imaginations to fill in certain gaps.)

Disclaimer: These are not necessarily stories "as they happened" they are stories according to Alamar. And, for better or worse, Alamar's perspective is quite skewed and slanted to be "pro-Alamar." Enjoy!