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 Era 1 of 7 - The Sundering 

Sulfar Nightfall was born in the tainted jewel of the Kaldorei Empire, Zin-Azshari, to a bloodline consumed with the tradition and the legacy of the Highborne. Thus, his birth was one that should have carried promise for his family, but it brought little more than disappointment. Born without the brilliance of the arcane, he was Highborne without magic, which made him little more than a stain on his family’s lineage. In a culture that prized power above all else, he possessed none. He was tolerated, mocked, and reviled for his condition, always the shadow of what should have been. Only one man saw potential where others saw failure, a scholar and a rising political figure, Valodriel Wavesinger. It was thanks to his recommendation that a young Sulfar found himself amongst the Rooksguard, sent to the borderlands and ramparts of Black Rook Hold. It had been an unusual appointment for one of noble birth, though given his lack of station, and dislike amongst the court few cared. For him it was an escape from the expectation of Zin-Azahari, granting the boy finally the opportunity to find his purpose.Through pure stubbornness, desperation and an adherence to the Hold's discipline, he began to find a community amongst the soldiers of Rooksguard. It was also in Black Rook Hold that Sulfar came under the watch of the Galantians, a small fellowship of Rooksguard champions known for their valor. They were the fortress’s heroes, and to Sulfar they were larger than life. For reasons he never fully understood, perhaps in part because of his Highborne blood, perhaps because they saw something in his resolve they allowed him to squire for them, teaching him lessons in arms and honour that few others would have bothered to share. Even if it was a menial role it was one he cherished. The Galantians tempered him, instilling in him a foundation of discipline, responsibility, and duty which would stay with him for the rest of his days. Occasionally venturing to the Capital, it was on a chance encounter he met a young Alissera Reth’aran, in training to become one of the Queen’s handmaidens. Her path was diametrically opposed to his own, one which promised status within the Empire, where he would surely fade into obscurity. Though maybe it was through the understanding of expectation, the pressure imposed upon them, and a small bond started to bloom. In those precious moments and those that followed, for the first time he felt as if he belonged.It was for that fleeting time he was happy, finally he had found companionship and purpose, and the world began to seem a little brighter. That was until the heavens opened and the sky burned. Demons, countless monsters of the Burning Legion, descended upon Zin-Azshari and, like so many, he was swept away in the chaos as the War of the Ancients began. It had been a bulwark for eons, and Black Rook Hold was soon tested by the Legion. He survived the defence not through skill but through refusal to die, shielded at crucial moments by the Galantians who fought at his side. One by one they fell, until only a single champion remained, bloodied and broken, standing over Sulfar as the fortress walls gave way. With his final breath, the Galantian seized Sulfar by the arm and forced him toward the breach. “You’ve no place here, boy. You’ve blood, your family finds them. Live.” Those were the last words of the Galantians, spoken as the tide of demons swept over the fortress. Sulfar fled through fire and ruin, carrying their command with him like a final order by his commander. By the time the banners of Ravencrest were cast into the ash, the world Sulfar had just begun to believe in was gone. A boy fled the fire and carried a dying order’s last command; live.

(The text above is a summaries version of Sulfars history, its subject to change and further elaboration)

 Era 2 of 7 - Eldre'thalas 

The War of the Ancients raged on after the defeat at Black Rook Hold, as the world around him was torn asunder. He made a joyless reunion with his family, only to discover that one of his siblings, an ideal Highborne brimming with arcane potential, had perished in the chaos of their flight from Zin-Azshari. Yet there Sulfar stood, both scarred and weary, still the useless youth without magical talent. To this family, his survival and subsequent return were almost seen as an insult. Why had he lived? Why not the one worthy of their legacy? That disappointment, which had ever coloured their view of him, bloomed into hatred. In the silence of their march toward Eldre’thalas, something dark grew in those who harboured him. Still young, still too foolish to truly grasp the hate in their eyes, Sulfar followed as many exiles did, in the shadow of Prince Tortheldrin, sheltered within the city's high walls as the war drew to a close. This last bastion soon bloomed into a silver era for the Highborne, both in their power and in their depravity.Those who remained clung to their fading legacy with fanatic pride, his parents included, as if the hole in their hearts could be repaired by strict adherence to the traditions that doomed them all.As the years trickled by, the young man who had endured Black Rook Hold and walked away from its ashes was once more reduced to a reminder of failure. He learned that Alissera’s clan had chosen a different path, seeking to find balance with the arcane while rejecting the decadence and arrogance of the Highborne, trying to learn from all the damage their people had done to the world. For Sulfar, it was a bitter truth to learn; he envied their freedom, as duty compelled him to remain. Eldre’thalas bore no great font of power, and so the Shen’dralar had turned to sacrificial magic to sustain their civilization. It was the sacrifice of the few to save the many. Individuals were selected, and they would simply disappear, never to be seen again. Sulfar was destined to be such an individual. His own family, his own blood, offered him as tribute to the Prince, marking him for death. If not for Valodriel Wavesinger, the once masterful wizard who had become a hollow shell of his former self, now drowned in guilt and liquor, Sulfar would have died. Yet the scholar had not forgotten the boy he’d once seen promise in, and orchestrated his flight from Eldre’thalas into the wilds of Feralas. It was a chance to survive, more opportunity than other sacrifices had gotten.Into the wilds he vanished half-mad with grief, haunted by shame, and with fury gnawing at him. Lost in this array of emotions, he found himself surrounded by demons. As if his grief had summoned them. With what little training he had from the Rook let him survive the initial clash, but he would not prevail as his strength waned. The soil was eager to drink in his lifeblood. If he died here, he would do so on his feet. It was bloodied and broken that the Demon Hunter found him. With impossible speed, strength, and finesse, the demons died in an instant. The power witnessed was not born of bloodline, it was stolen from their enemies. Those who had doomed their world, the path became clear; the only true path to survival, to shape his own destiny stood before him. He needed this power. Maralon Rageheart could see it in the boy’s eyes from the moment they met, and somehow the bloodied youth half-dead on his feet, mad from all that had transpired, convinced the Demon Hunter to train him. Only through this could he claim the strength he had been denied for his entire life. In a city fed by its own, he learned what the unworthy are worth.

(The text above is a summaries version of Sulfars history, its subject to change and further elaboration)

 Era 3 of 7 - The Demon Hunter 

Sulfar chose to follow in Maralon’s footsteps. He’d lived the life of one powerless and had seen the world he once knew burn. With the shadows of Black Rook Hold haunting him, and the madness within Eldre’thalas igniting a fire within his soul, it was upon that day he swore to eradicate the demons, both man and immortal. He’d been at the mercy of their greed, hunger, and ambition. No longer would he be a victim to others. He'd forge his own path forward. Yet to become an immortal hunter of monsters required more than pure willpower. Broken daily by his Shan’do, Maralon was tireless in his tuition, forcing him past exhaustion with starvation, isolation, and combat against both man and beast. If not for the Demon Hunter’s dark wizardry, he’d have died his final death a hundred times over. Each time he was brought to the brink, a new lesson was etched into his soul. He fought against monsters until the floor was slick with blood, endured trials meant not to sharpen skill no, they were designed to kill. Demons showed no quarter, and thus neither did his Shan’do. Through it all, Sulfar refused to break. The frail, uncertain child who was sheltered by the men of the Rook was gone. What remained was a man-made weapon, forged in the fires of suffering and desperation. Such was the path he had chosen.Maralon was unable to directly act in matters involving Eldre’thalas; its magi were too vigilant and knew their former Royal Guard. Instead, he used Sulfar as an intermediary. He met with Valodriel, learning valuable insight into the Prince’s plans, and no small amount of magical theory from the once-great scholar. Each encounter with the scholar who was responsible for Sulfar’s life was both a blessing and a curse. He learned much from this husk of a man, yet drowned in guilt, Valodriel was still broken. Sulfar resolved not to follow in the man’s footsteps. The march of centuries passed them by, and Maralon was often absent, engaged in his war against the Legion. In those absences, Sulfar was left amongst the Demon Hunter’s allies, most notably the clan of Alissera Reth’aran. They were somewhat independent from Eldre’thalas, and Maralon ensured any truly dangerous threat was cut down before reaching their borders. In thanks, they offered him and by association Sulfar sanctuary. It was here he reunited with Alissera. No longer the boy who struggled to match her talents, his body now bore the scars of power earned through toil, and his eyes carried a fire born of suffering. Amidst the absences, between the trials, and in stolen moments outside of Maralon’s imperious gaze, their bond slowly bloomed into something more.It brought a shadow of doubt to what had been a blinding certainty of the path he had chosen, as he studied the arcane amongst her people, learning of magical theory. In quiet, precious moments, he almost imagined living a life amongst them. These delusions were often tempered by the brutality of Maralon’s training, as the Demon Hunter sculpted him into the weapon he sought. It was after a lengthy exodus and the subsequent return that Maralon’s tuition intensified; weeks blindfolded, forced to perform tasks in absolute darkness, weapon forms, sparring, and eventually even fighting lesser demons. Failure in this state would result in death. His purpose, his hopes, and his forming dreams anchored him through it all. While physical discipline was essential, Maralon spent a significant amount of time moulding, structuring, and ordering the youth’s mind. He learned of the Legion’s command structure, their goals, and weaknesses, along with a plethora of other dangerous and useful monsters. Maralon instilled in him the simple truth: knowledge is power, and the ability to wield that knowledge is absolute. With a body forged for battle and a mind moulded for the hunt, as the centuries drew to a close, the ritual of ascension loomed, and Maralon judged him ready for the final step. Steel made the body; knowledge made the blade.

(The text above is a summaries version of Sulfars history, its subject to change and further elaboration)

 Era 4 of 7 - Ascension 

Everything had led up to this moment, and when he thought he’d reach the end, Maralon told him a simple truth, one buried deep through this journey. “You’ve grown strong, strong enough to shape your own destiny. Though I can see it, there is uncertainty and doubt in your heart. If you take this next step without purging it, you’ll die. Return to me when it no longer burdens you, and if that day never comes… hunt well.” It was with that final proclamation from his Shan’do that Sulfar was free for the first time in what felt like an age. Stepping out of the long shadow cast by his master and into Alissera’s village, she was quick to offer him sanctuary. For a time he once more found solace, the simple toil of each day passing by, living amongst her people as a year or perhaps more disappeared. And maybe, if it wasn’t for the Wardens, he’d never have found the path again. It was under the cover of night they came, glaives in hand and the hunt in their eyes. The Kaldorei Wardens cut down the Highborne before they realised they were under attack. Fires roared as screams echoed throughout the village.Sulfar fought with all the skill he could muster, and even then he was no match for the Wardens, forced to flee with those few survivors. He and Alissera led them far from the ruins of the village.Broken, bloodied, and with so many dead, it would be an age before her clan recovered. If he was stronger, if he had ascended, he could have stopped this. And yet once again he fled from those greater than him. Coward. Weakling. All these thoughts and more spiralled through his mind. As Alissera led her people to safety, Sulfar disappeared. In search of the Demon Hunter he swore he would never be so powerless that he could not protect what he cherished. Returning, Maralon could see the answer written all over the bloodied youth, and soon the ritual of ascension began. This forbidden rite was no gift, it was a curse, torment incarnate, and only through such suffering could he evolve to become something more. With his soul pierced by demonic essence, his flesh remade in their image, and his mind twisted by their corruption, his consciousness fractured. It was in that rite he saw everything; each moment of his life, the condemnation for his birth, the shame he brought to his kin, the fall of Black Rook, the truth of Eldre’thalas, and the Wardens cutting down the innocent. It was every choice, every failure laid out before him in a tapestry of his existence, and the demon sought to exploit it. But the past didn’t weaken his will. No it galvanised it into something unbreakable, and so the fiend’s ego was shattered and he became one with the demon.When the torment of the rite drew to an end his once-azure eyes burned with a crimson intensity, his body marked with tattoos and his soul forever scarred by this metamorphosis. It took him some time to recover, and in the centuries that followed he learned to wield this new power. This magic which coursed through his veins would be his salvation. Yet the world did not stand still. Valodriel whispered of the building chaos within Eldre’thalas, and Alissera had separated herself from the clan, chasing power of her own through a mentor whose origins were at the time veiled in secrets. Sulfar roamed far with his Shan’do, across Kalimdor and to distant shores, and by the end of this millennium Sulfar had finally become a Demon Hunter. A familial bond had formed between Maralon and Sulfar, not dissimilar to that between a father and son. It was a quiet thing, something neither of the Hunters would speak on for eons to come. After all the toil was done, Sulfar left, roaming the world for time, learning and hunting monsters. It was on these adventures that his path became clear; this power, he would use it to let the helpless of this world decide their own destiny. The question was, would these noble ambitions truly stand the test of time, as the shadow of Eldre’thalas grew ever darker? He rose sightless, seeing more clearly than ever.

(The text above is a summaries version of Sulfars history, its subject to change and further elaboration)

 Era 5 of 7 - The Sacrifice 

Millennia had passed Sulfar while he trained with one purpose, to become strong, to choose his own destiny. It was on this journey his ideals grew noble, with the goal to protect those who could not protect themselves. This heroic ideal would soon meet reality and be tested beyond measure. The sacrifices within Eldre’thalas had begun to intensify, and Valodriel whispered of a singularity. The cost to maintain their power, to feed their arcane addiction, had become too great, and the inner circle of the Shen’dralar, ordered by the Prince, intended to sacrifice thousands. Their silent war on Eldre’thalas had built to this moment. Sulfar gathered what allies he could, notable amongst them Maralon, Valodriel, and Alissera. This was it. He had been waiting for this moment for eons, as they entered the city under the cover of night. Maralon and Valodriel moved to secure a path for fleeing civilians, ensuring as many as possible reached safety. Alissera and Sulfar were tasked with interrupting the ritual. As the marble hall was bathed in an ominous emerald light, they fought like beings possessed, cutting down horrors, cultists, and guardsmen step by bloody step, moving closer to the source of the power. Within the grand athenaeum they saw it: thousands drawn toward a demonic circle, thousands more corpses piled upon corpses surrounding a singular colossal demon.Tendrils and eyes harvested the life force from the people of Eldre’thalas as the Shen’dralar sorcerers channelled the essence into colossal crystals. Blood stained every surface as Highborne dragged the dead and dying into the circle. The Prince stood before the ritual, focusing all this death into power that would surely sustain them for eons to come. Blade in hand, Sulfar stepped toward the massacre. It was amidst this chaos with Alissera at his side, that he saw his parents, broken and bloodied amongst the masses. They clung to an infant girl, her cries sharp against the screams of the ritual, the howls of the demon, and the terror of the moment. Unable to stop himself, he approached as his parents pressed the girl into his arms. “Take her!” gasped his mother. “She is our legacy, save her!” These words cut like a blade to the heart, the world his family had aided in creating was killing them all, yet still, even at the end they clung to their legacy. The cries of the child mingled with the words of Alissera, gazing at the ritual. “Sulfar, we can’t stop this, it's too far gone!” He could see she was at her limit. “Take the baby, and leave. I will end this.”His voice echoed with unbroken conviction, as he pushed the child into Alissera’s arms, meeting her eyes for what might be the final time, before charging toward the ritual, blade in hand. He killed and killed, as the cries of the baby grew distant, carving a desperate path through the Shen’dralar. Everything had led to this moment. Everything. He was meant to see this wrong made right. Emerald light crackled in the heavens as his bloodied, wounded, and exhausted form stood before the architect of this madness. His blade was stained with Highborne blood as Prince Tortheldrin noticed the Demon Hunter as if looking upon an insect. This man was the antithesis to Sulfar. He had been given everything, had been born with everything; his station, his power, his authority. Sulfar’s had been earned thrice over, but still he looked at the hunter who had slain countless to get here as if he were nothing. High on his royal platform, Tortheldrin raised a single hand as a piercing stream of arcane energy impaled Sulfar in the chest, and like so many others, he collapsed, soon joining the heaps of corpses amidst the athenaeum. His final thoughts were of Alissera and a crying baby. A fish that leaps from the river passage may think it has escaped the current, but in the end it can only return to the flow. The one who tries to defy fate is the same.

(The text above is a summaries version of Sulfars history, its subject to change and further elaboration)

 Era 6 of 7 - Rebirth 

It was in the ruins of the grand athenaeum, amongst the corpses, he rose. Death had claimed him, yet he had been denied that respite. Sulfar was no longer a man, no longer truly mortal. The ritual, his ascension, had changed him utterly into something monstrous. The soul of a demon resided within the hunter, and it refused to let him die. Heaving himself from the corpses, gore painting him, the smell of decay overwhelming as thousands of bodies were scattered amidst the ritual site. This was the testament to his failure, this was the result of all his ambition, and in those bloody halls, gazing upon so much destruction, was where those noble ideals died. What staggered from Eldre’thalas was something far colder. By some miracle, he made it back to their camp, bloodied, broken, and half mad. Maralon, Valodriel, and Alissera could see he had changed. Sulfar needed time to recover. It was during this interim that all their paths diverged. Valodriel intended to venture across the sea in search of the Highborne who had been exiled by the Kaldorei. Maralon intended to pursue a hunt he was largely secretive about. This left Sulfar and Alissera as their other allies soon went their separate ways. On the night of his recovery, he vanished from her side, taking the child they had saved from Eldre’thalas and leaving her a note; “The path I choose leaves no room for a heart as loving as yours. Alissera, seek the happiness we were never fated to share.”He disappeared north with the infant, shouldering the final burden his family had saddled him with, soon leaving her with the Kaldorei. Somewhere deep down, he hoped she would be able to escape the curse of their bloodline. With nothing else left to anchor him, time lost all meaning as grief swelled into fury, and that fury bloomed into absolute obsession. Decades passed in slaughter. Centuries blurred into shadow. He roamed the continents, from the span of Kalimdor to the frozen north of Winterspring, carving down horrors. To the jungles of Zandalar, where his blade brought low fiends from ages past. Across the dry savanna of the Barrens, he stalked his prey, and it later culminated amidst the War of the Shifting Sands. His crimson eyes set on bringing low the insectoid monsters of Ahn’Qiraj, this age of slaughter, battle, and war stretched on for what seemed an eternity. With agents of the Legion felled and horrors of the Void slain, only ashes remained upon the hunter’s path. The Hunter's path, veiled in the pain of the night that changed him forever, was often intercepted by the one person who was determined to bring the warmth of spring into the darkness of his life. Alissera Reth'aran. Though she was entwined in her own fate and her own path for strength and vengeance, she was ever the thorn in Sulfar's side when they would happen upon eachother every hundred years or so, as the Sorceress sought closure over their last goodbye - penned in words that deemed their happiness impossible whilst Alissera knew that their bond was true.At times his name traveled faster than his blade, some named him a hero and others a curse. A hunter who roamed unceasingly, bringing vengeance to the evil that stalked the endless night, without mercy. Others spoke of his butchery as if the man was possessed by an incurable madness, and perhaps during this time they were right. For what sane man would bathe himself in such death? Yet no matter how many foes he cut down, the screams of Eldre’thalas never left him. It was during this crucible he grasped a clear truth. That the voice, the demon echoing in his mind, was not that of another no, it was his own. He and the demon, somewhere along this journey, had become one, inseparable. Perhaps they always had been. Perhaps everything he had endured had only brought light to the monster he truly was. He had become what he sought to destroy, cruel and ruthless as the Prince who had doomed their people, and monstrous as the demons he swore to destroy. On this crusade of destruction Sulfar became lost, carving a bloody legacy across the world. The hunter and the demon had become one, it was only as he set foot on the Broken Isle. His hunt taking him towards the ruins of Blackrook Hold would his fate begin to change.

(The text above is a summaries version of Sulfars history, its subject to change and further elaboration)

 Era 7 of 7 - The Rook 

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(The text above is a summaries version of Sulfars history, its subject to change and further elaboration)

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 Roleplay Hooks 

With a life as long as Sulfar's, you've seen most things. Due to the length of time I've played this character, I have attended a lot of major server campaigns, done events related to patches, or enemy threats throughout the lifecycle of WoW since Wrath of the Lich King, and to the present day. So whether it is the Siege of Orgrimmar, Argus, or the Visions of N'zoth, I have done RP relating to all of these things, spinning it in my own unique way that makes sense for the character I'm playing. While the below is a 'taster' of hooks, this is to underline the above with such a storied history and time roleplaying. As a character, Sulfar can fit and has been involved in all manner of events throughout the world and setting. If you have any proposals to form new hooks that may not be listed or mentioned, please feel free to approach. I am always excited to form new connections with other roleplayers.