Sable Darkheart was born in the Lower Planes during a particularly brutal decade of the blood wars. A child of a decorated and ruthless general and a skilled warrior, he was born into a family of valor, violence and vicious notoriety. His mother loved as only a tiefling warrior could - with a  passionate and all consuming sharpness. She would stop at nothing to ensure his safety, if for no other reason than to brutally craft him into a weapon that would secure the continuation of his family’s legacy of power and victory. She was, in equal parts, his security and his opponent as she oversaw his daily training as soon as he learned to walk. His father was quiet and deadly. Often away dealing with his responsibilities as a general, young Sable revered him and knew him more as a result of the legends spoken around the war camps. When his father was around, Sable did all he could to impress the general and earn his hard won approval - approval that was withheld from all but the most decorated and vicious of warriors. 

At age 8, his father, away at a meeting of his commanders, learned of an impending attack from the opposing forces. In an uncharacteristic break from duty and strategy, he sent two messengers - one to the warrior left in command during his absence, and one directly to Sable and his mother’s tent with detailed and definitive orders for her. The news came with little doubt that the tiefling forces who they fought and lived among would be decimated. Camped on unfavorable ground, depleted in both soldiers, energy and supplies from a previous battle, and with little time to prepare, Death loomed just outside their camp, ready to collect what was due. Sable’s mother immediately executed the orders with swift, cunning precision. In a blur of what should have been impossible, he found himself transported into the earthly realms, a letter from his mother tucked into his leathers: My son. I leave you here under the protection of Fierna, my patron. Do what you must to survive - spare no one to ensure our family lives on. My sword will swing alongside yours, no matter what realms or lifetimes separate us. Remember what I’ve taught you. I only regret that I shall not get to watch you rise in rank and take up your father’s sword. Above all else, never forget whose blood runs in your veins - do not let this realm make you soft. 

He spent several years in a stupor - unable to understand why his father insisted he be sent away rather than die an honorable death. Was it a never before seen glimmer of parental love, unearthed only by the threat of something as final as death? Or was it pure strategy and pride from a general unwilling to have his family line and only heir taken away by his enemies? He read his mother’s letter endlessly, drifting without purpose at the sudden lack of punishing structure he’d been born into. His head swam with shame knowing he had done the one thing no one in his family line ever should. The one thing that had been bred out of him since he was old enough to form thought. He ran from a fight. He was a coward, a turn-tail who left his mother to die. His father, he assumed, would have his meeting with Death not long after her as their forces had surely been faltering more with each passing week of the war. 

By age 11, he had learned how to silence the endless raging in his head - and how to survive on the streets. Antagonizing an ale-soaked delinquent, landing a few blows and having a few returned.. without fail, it quieted the demons that had taken up residence in his mind. He got by as his mother ordered - however he needed to. He stole, squatted, fought and, as time went on and he ruffled enough feathers brawling in - and out of - taverns, he did others’ dirty work. Usually, he fell in with crime lords or organized bands of rogues. He did their bidding until his very bones and blood seemed to protest taking their dirty orders - his demons awakening at the thought of what his family would think seeing him sully their lineage as a nameless underling to a low level criminal organization. At that point, he’d often hop a ship and let the ocean’s roar temporarily drown out any memory of who he was while the constant spray of the sea washed away the sin of his cowardice. Other times, the bubbling rage and disgust would take over, and he’d burn it all down - sometimes quite literally. He’d been known to decimate entire neighborhoods with fire when properly provoked by the right irksome boss and haughty demands. 

In recent years, his temper had cooled some in comparison to his first decade in the earthly realms. A year and a half ago, in a drunken stupor, Sable dozed in an alley and awoke to find his meager belongings had been plundered. They’d even dared to take his cloak from where it had been cushioned under his head - in it, the letter from his mother. The carefully constructed vault he kept his emotions locked in shattered as he felt his chest cave in. He broke - wailing and utterly alone, abandoned even by the promise of his mother’s sword swinging alongside him always. In his despair, he called out to Fierna. He begged, bargained - knowing he had nothing else to give, he swore his body, his loyalty, his honor and soul. All he asked in return was for the promise to never be alone, and the chance to become worthy of the blood that ran in his veins. A chance to do what he knew he’d never been able to do on his own: make his family proud. 

He has spent the time since then with renewed purpose and somewhat reformed behavior. An urchin through and through, he has remained on the fringes of society as he has begun to master his newfound abilities. Ruthless and cold by nature, his use of his increasing physical and magical abilities makes the more honorable turn away and look down upon him, but he has held to his mother’s words - he continues to refuse to let this realm make him soft. With what feels painfully close to the sense of purpose he lost when he lost his family, he has set sail for new lands. Sable hopes to put his training to use there and find a way to prove his salvation was not for nothing - maybe even finding a sense of brotherhood along the way.