Underneath the first blue moon of the month, when North o' mighty Wind rode down from the woods with the chill for every spine and met with West o' wandering Wind with the good news. The born of an healthy boy brought joy to the encampment which Arcrist's parents and close and far relatives lived, for he being the first and only child of his family. 

His first smile as a toddler, back when he touched the clear and cold waters of Nenuial. He grew on the shores of the lake, embracing the breeze and the sun. He had a decent, strong-willed and confident childhood, this helped his development greatly. After learning the basics from his father, he mostly trained alone. Arcrist spent most of his time with hunting with bow and arrow. 

Until the day he walk into a smith, young Arcrist narrowed his bright grey eyes and perked his ears at the sound of hammers clinking over a raw blade. Then he quickly ran to his father and inquired him about that. His father was happy to teach him the usage of blades and the creation process of them. Arcrist being keen and quick in mind, he quickly comprehended the lessons, now he gave his interest to the blades.

As the days passes, he forged blades for himself and his surroundings. But his main interest was the sword play. He was besting his coevals one by one in friendly spars. He used long swords and daggers in an effective and swift way, artistically. He kept hunting the evil amongst woods and put an outstanding performance of combat.

In a dark day, Arcrist was away for his hunt, with all of his useful gear but also carried the sorrow and emptiness of the day being vain and quiet. At dusk, he heard loud cries and saw raising smoke when he turned back and looked his encampment near the lake. He passed the woods with haste and excitement.

He arrived to there with the other Rangers from surrounding places, they fought and slew until the last orc. Yet the combat left a bitter prize to him. An orc struck towards him and swung his blade, Arcrist pulled his head back just in time and the blade just cut over his lips, which is mostly covered by his mask nowadays.

But it was too late for Arcrist's family. Their camp was ransacked and his relatives, including his parents were dead. The encampment was burned and gone now. Empty. Sorrow ever dwells within Arcrist and at the shores of Nenuial. He then packed up, gathered his equipment and everything, traveled to east. He found his kinsmen of the Fields and within the secret encampment of Esteldin who called him Dúath for his personality and traits. As the days and the years passes, Arcrist continues to fulfill his oath in a faithful way which he deems as the best.