A tiefling who gets pulled into the madness while on a path of enlightenment
Fyre was born in the village of Wailing Death, which exists in the valley between three active volcanos, only a single easy path in or out. The village mostly consists of degenerate humans long corrupted by the influence of the dark energies of the Demon Wastes, but within the village is a ruling class, a few interconnected families of tieflings. Chief among these families is Fyre’s, having long ruled for being the bloodline of the Host of Aszga’ravkarno, one of the great demons bound long ago within a magic prison. Every few generations, one of Fyre’s family members has been chosen by Aszga’ravkarno as its living host, the shell by which it would affect the world, even if Aszga’ravkarno’s powers were but a fragment of its full power.
Fyre’s grandmother was the host for her entire life, and possessed plenty of youth and vigor yet. Fyre was treated like a princess, having her pick of valuables, resources, and men from the tribe. Not to say her life was easy, things were tough in the Demon Wastes, where food doesn’t grow, so what food there is often comes in the form of the two-legged variety. While the humans looked upon her as one step from the gods, the other tieflings were often jealous. Jealous of her position, jealous of looks, and jealous of her sheer arcane power. This power became magnified over time, as Fyre took the appropriate pacts to strengthen her power even more, contacting the infernal powers bound within the volcanos around her and performing the necessary bindings to increase her own powers.
While Fyre’s abilities made her all but immune to the torments of the other tieflings, her little brother fared less well. Lacking her gift for the arcane, Syluk had a natural talent for swordplay, wielding two scimitars. His martial talents did nothing to prevent frequent magical tricks, and Syluk became increasingly bitter despite Fyre’s attempts to safeguard him.
Life would have continued like this, if it weren’t for the Silent Laughter band of tieflings having discovered a temple in a valley some distance from Wailing Death. Seraph, leader of the band, reported a structure very much like the temple underneath their own village, where Aszga’ravkarno slept. Aszga’ravkarno, within the host of Fyre’s grandmother, got very excited by this and returned with the Silent Laughter band to the temple. Only Seraph and her human pet returned.
With her grandmother dead, it was only a matter of time before Aszga’ravkarno had recovered enough of its power to claim another host, and Fyre had no intention of being that host. She left, but the human worshippers, guided by the direction of the other tieflings, tried to block her off at the valley’s exit. So Fyre went the opposite, climbing up the slopes of the most ominous of the volcanos, cutting herself on the obsidian spires, fighting past devilish magma elementals, and finally, at the edge between life and death, sought shelter within a cave from a rain of burning lava spewed by the volcano. There she found something, a field of magical energy that Fyre could tell was temporary, linked by the strong source of elemental magic, a portal going into the Primal Chaos. Knowing her village would continue to hunt her down, not knowing if she’d survive crossing the mountain, she entered the portal without a second thought.
Her life not bad enough, the portal lead into a magma pool in an Aspect of Baphomet’s labyrinth, a set of deep canyons carved into the side of a floating chunk of rock in the Chaos Below. The portal only an infernal trap meant to draw a being of power so that his demonic hounds could have some play. They got more than they bargained for however, as Fyre slew most of the lesser hounds and outran the rest. From one maze to another, Fyre ran, rarely getting much chance to rest, hiding once in the corpse of one of the larger creatures she slew, often eating the raw flesh of the creatures she killed as her only sustenance, she made it ever closer to the center of the labyrinth.
Reaching the center of the maze, she entered Baphomet’s dimensional maze, where yet again she had to struggle through the series of portals, again being hunted, by even more powerful creatures this time. Whenever she would memorize the maze, the maze’s structure would be changed, sometimes in mid-step. The last time, she entered a room with a bald old man sitting in meditation. Attempting to strike him down as yet another trap of Baphomet, she struck only walls of adamantine formed out of the air. Attempting to leave, the door suddenly no longer existed. Frustrated, she began to yell, to scream, at the old human or whatever it was. The man ignored her.
At the end of her wits, frustrated at being ignored, she sat, waiting for whatever happened next. The Old Man said one thing, “Think”. Staring at the old man, frustrated with her circumstances, she huffed, closed her eyes, and did think.
Over the next year, Fyre learned many things, learned of the larger world of Khorvaire, where the Old Man was from, of how to manipulate the primal chaos by sheet thought, learned that not every action should be taken only in the pursuit of more power. She knew she could never go back to that savage village she had come from, that place where all but your immediate family was as likely to stab you in the back as help you, and in that harsh place, often end up eating you.