It had taken her years to find them, to track them down.
She had only vague, foggy memories of them, since her parents had lost her when she was only 3 years old. From that point forward, simply surviving had been her only goal, and as the only tiefling in her town, it hadn’t been an easy one.
10 years. 10 years of living in the dirt, of scrounging for scraps, of being spit on, hit, ignored, insulted...of somehow, someway, staying alive—the only thing keeping her going the idea that one day maybe she could find her parents, as she knew they must want to find her.
She’d known it probably wouldn’t be easy—since they probably didn’t look anything like her. Her tiefling heritage could have skipped a generation or two, leaving her with the blood-red skin, all-black eyes, long spiral horns, and tail while they looked perfectly “normal.” Whatever normal was. She only knew that it wasn’t a word that could ever describe her, no matter how badly she might wish that it did. She only hoped that they still lived in this particular town, because if they lived elsewhere, finding them might have been impossible.
By the time she hit 13, she’d pretty much mastered the game of survival. She knew which bakeries were generous with their trash, which taverns with their scraps, and which deep, dark corners of the town were easiest to take cover in. She’d gotten okay at sleight of hand, but would probably never be an expert—since suspicious eyes followed her wherever she went.
She was tired of the irrational fear and anger directed at her, tired of not understanding why life was so unfair, how the townspeople could hate her if they didn’t even know her. But since she couldn’t do anything about that, she instead began to channel all of her energy into finding the parents that lost her.
The town she lived in was big enough that with her limited resources and know-how, it took her 3 long years to finally—finally—find them.
And now here she was, walking up to a small wooden house on the far outskirts of town, knowing that, at long last, she was home.
It was night and darkness had spread across the sky. It felt heavier than usual, but maybe that was just her apprehension. Or maybe it was the black clouds hanging overhead, almost ready to dump rain on her. Nerves, excitement, anticipation—they twisted her stomach into knots; she was almost sick with it.
Normally, she felt the cold with a keen awareness—today she barely noticed it. She didn’t have the attention to spare, being so consumed by the culmination of all of her efforts so soon within her grasp.
As she got closer, she could see lights within the house, and the wind carried with it sounds of laughter, joy, comfort, and family. Everything she’d longed for, manifested in one place.
It was time. It was finally time for them to reunite, to be the big happy family she knew they were meant to be. She was their lost little ugly duckling, to be reunited with the right folks at long last. Though, she wasn’t actually ugly, simply...demonic-looking.
She strode forward, squashing any urge to hesitate, and knocked on the door three times.
The sounds of happiness inside faltered, replaced with temporary confusion, and then footsteps. The door opened and before her stood a man, light pouring out from behind him to leave him backlit and mostly in shadow. But she could see in the dark, and what she saw was someone in their late thirties or early forties dressed in farmer’s clothes, weathered from the sun, standing only a few inches taller than her, with brown hair on his head and face.
His dark eyes narrowed as they took her in, and she tried to ignore the disappointment that sent her stomach plummeting. That he didn’t recognize her immediately and welcome her inside shouldn’t be so surprising—it had been 13 years, after all.
“Yes?” He asked, his voice flat.
“Um.” She didn’t know what to say. What do you say to long lost parents once they’re found again?
“Who is it, dear?” And a woman came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. She was pretty, with long dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a light tan from working under the sun. The woman’s gaze hit her and darkened, like clouds passing over the sun to blot it out completely.
“I, um,” She started, torn between doubt and excitement. Excitement won, and she plowed onward. “I think that, um, you might be...my parents. I remember your faces. I know, um, I know we got separated a long time ago, but I—” and a tentative smile spread over her face, “I found you. I finally found you.”
She wasn’t sure if it was her words or her sharp canines, but both of her parents blanched. Confusion and dread started to settle inside her. Had she been wrong?
“I did, didn’t I? You are my parents?” She felt a few raindrops hit as it began to sprinkle.
The woman looked worried, but the man’s face hardened.
“We are.” He said, his tone steely. “But we didn’t lose you.”
His words clanged through her as her mind scrambled to find meaning, and her gaze went to the two normal, human children playing on a rug before the hearth, both happy, both loved. They had started a family without her. They had replaced her. They had...abandoned her.
“We intentionally gave you up. We didn’t—don’t—want you.” The man’s eyes narrowed, taking in her horns, her black eyes, her tail that flicked nervously behind her, and his face filled with disgust and abhorrence. “You’re not our child—the gods made a mistake when my wife bore you. The only thing you would bring to this family is shame. We’re better off without you. If you truly cared about us, you would understand that. Leave now and never return.” And he shoved her out of their doorway.
She stumbled backward, in shock, as the sky opened up and rain poured from the clouds. She was soaked almost instantly.
The door slammed and they were gone, back to their other children, their normal children. The only children they wanted. Because they didn’t want her.
An awful grief rose up inside her and dragged her under its current, overwhelming her.
Her legs managed to carry her a few feet back down the road before giving way, and she collapsed in the mud. She couldn’t tell which wetness on her face was from tears and which from rain, but as she sat in the mud—dirty, cold, and utterly alone—she began to weep in earnest. Great, heaving sobs that she had no control over wracked her, left her gasping for breath. Her hands searched for something to hold onto but found only fistfuls of brown muck, which gave way in her hands to leak back to the road.
“My child, what ails you?”
Her eyes snapped upward to find a very large, handsome gentleman with a perfectly trimmed beard crouched beside her. His...his skin—it was red, like hers. He had horns, as she did. He...he actually looked like her. She’d sometimes wondered if she was the only one of her kind—an abomination. But she wasn’t, and she felt a rush of relief. An instant sense of kinship spread within her.
As she stared at him in wonder, forgetting the question he’d asked, she realized that she felt warm and dry instead of freezing and wet, and the rain had stopped. Or, at least, it had in a wide bubble around the two of them, his magic insulating them against the weather.
Magic...she’d seen magic-users from afar throughout her life and envied them fiercely. To be able to wield it and show those who kicked or spit on or offended her their mistake...she ached for it almost as much as she’d ached to find her parents.
“Wh-who are you?”
He grasped her hand lightly and pulled her to her feet.
“I am the only one who sees you for what you’re truly worth, your incredible, immense potential...the only one who cares for you the way you deserve to be cared for. You may call me Asmodeus. I am here to show you your destiny and make you stronger than you’ve ever known. To bestow upon you your natural birthright as my descendant.”
And he put a hand to her cheek, cradling her face.
Affection. She’d never felt it, never been shown any. Her soul was starved for it and she gobbled it up eagerly, her eyes fluttering closed, never pausing to second guess, never pausing to consider what he might gain from helping her as his words echoed in her head, filling her with hope. She didn’t care even if he did have an ulterior motive—it’s not like any of the gods had done anything for her. They had left her to her fate as a wretched outcast, abandoned by her parents and reviled by her town. If it was a fiend—the fiend—who chose to help her, to value her, then so be it. Her allegiance was settled inside her, and for the first time in a long time, perhaps even forever, she felt good. Strong.
Opening her eyes, she looked up into Asmodeus’s glowing red eyes. “My natural birthright? You...you can make me powerful?”
“Yes, my child. I can bestow upon you powers you’ve only dreamed of. I can give you what you want.” He paused to smile and brush back the black hair that had been plastered to her face. “You deserve to be angry, to take your vengeance on these people who’ve treated you like the dirt they walk on. You deserve to be respected, to be feared.”
And she was—she was angry. So angry. The spark inside her roared into a flame, a raging wildfire that raced through her veins, filling her with a familiar hatred for the people of this town, a hatred that now included the people who’d birthed and abandoned her.
She wanted what Asmodeus offered. She wanted vengeance, respect, and to be feared. More than anything. She wanted the power to make it so.
“Yes,” She breathed, transfixed by him and his words. “Yes.”
“I will support you with gifts, I will give you power and weapons and training. I will help you become who you’re meant to be.” He paused, making sure his words hit home. They did.
“And in return, all I ask is you occasionally assist me with tasks I assign you.”
“Yes, anything,” she whispered.
A satisfied smile spread across his handsome face and with one hand he reached out and touched a fingertip to her forehead. Immediately, her dirty, wet rags were replaced with new, dry clothing; a heavy pack full of supplies settled itself on her back; and magic raced through her, filling her from head to toe, making her lightheaded, almost dizzy from the power, the strength, that was now inside her.
A slow grin formed on her face. If she lived just for this feeling, she would live well and be satisfied.
“I offer you one more gift tonight—your vengeance on these people who have forsaken you. What would you have me do in your name?”
She stared at him, then swept her gaze across the farmlands and the parents who didn’t want her, then back down the road to the town that had made her an eternal victim.
“Burn it. Burn it all.”
And he smiled at her. Holding a hand outstretched, flames rose to engulf the town—all of it, even the outskirts, even her parents.
Everything burned.
The night was made bright as the light of the flames reached for the skies, and a cacophony of screams rose as everyone was consumed by Asmodeus’s wicked fire. It was awful and terrible and wonderful.
Any sense of shock or remorse that she might’ve felt was chased away by the overwhelming, heady feeling of victory and power. So much power. It was part of her now.
Asmodeus had disappeared, but she barely noticed.
For hours, she watched as the flames and the agonized screams died down to nothing, leaving only ash behind.
She was Aza the Abandoned and she would never feel powerless again.
It had taken her years to find them, to track them down.
She had only vague, foggy memories of them, since her parents had lost her when she was only 3 years old. From that point forward, simply surviving had been her only goal, and as the only tiefling in her town, it hadn’t been an easy one.
10 years. 10 years of living in the dirt, of scrounging for scraps, of being spit on, hit, ignored, insulted...of somehow, someway, staying alive—the only thing keeping her going the idea that one day maybe she could find her parents, as she knew they must want to find her.
She’d known it probably wouldn’t be easy—since they probably didn’t look anything like her. Her tiefling heritage could have skipped a generation or two, leaving her with the blood-red skin, all-black eyes, long spiral horns, and tail while they looked perfectly “normal.” Whatever normal was. She only knew that it wasn’t a word that could ever describe her, no matter how badly she might wish that it did. She only hoped that they still lived in this particular town, because if they lived elsewhere, finding them might have been impossible.
By the time she hit 13, she’d pretty much mastered the game of survival. She knew which bakeries were generous with their trash, which taverns with their scraps, and which deep, dark corners of the town were easiest to take cover in. She’d gotten okay at sleight of hand, but would probably never be an expert—since suspicious eyes followed her wherever she went.
She was tired of the irrational fear and anger directed at her, tired of not understanding why life was so unfair, how the townspeople could hate her if they didn’t even know her. But since she couldn’t do anything about that, she instead began to channel all of her energy into finding the parents that lost her.
The town she lived in was big enough that with her limited resources and know-how, it took her 3 long years to finally—finally—find them.
And now here she was, walking up to a small wooden house on the far outskirts of town, knowing that, at long last, she was home.
It was night and darkness had spread across the sky. It felt heavier than usual, but maybe that was just her apprehension. Or maybe it was the black clouds hanging overhead, almost ready to dump rain on her. Nerves, excitement, anticipation—they twisted her stomach into knots; she was almost sick with it.
Normally, she felt the cold with a keen awareness—today she barely noticed it. She didn’t have the attention to spare, being so consumed by the culmination of all of her efforts so soon within her grasp.
As she got closer, she could see lights within the house, and the wind carried with it sounds of laughter, joy, comfort, and family. Everything she’d longed for, manifested in one place.
It was time. It was finally time for them to reunite, to be the big happy family she knew they were meant to be. She was their lost little ugly duckling, to be reunited with the right folks at long last. Though, she wasn’t actually ugly, simply...demonic-looking.
She strode forward, squashing any urge to hesitate, and knocked on the door three times.
The sounds of happiness inside faltered, replaced with temporary confusion, and then footsteps. The door opened and before her stood a man, light pouring out from behind him to leave him backlit and mostly in shadow. But she could see in the dark, and what she saw was someone in their late thirties or early forties dressed in farmer’s clothes, weathered from the sun, standing only a few inches taller than her, with brown hair on his head and face.
His dark eyes narrowed as they took her in, and she tried to ignore the disappointment that sent her stomach plummeting. That he didn’t recognize her immediately and welcome her inside shouldn’t be so surprising—it had been 13 years, after all.
“Yes?” He asked, his voice flat.
“Um.” She didn’t know what to say. What do you say to long lost parents once they’re found again?
“Who is it, dear?” And a woman came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. She was pretty, with long dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a light tan from working under the sun. The woman’s gaze hit her and darkened, like clouds passing over the sun to blot it out completely.
“I, um,” She started, torn between doubt and excitement. Excitement won, and she plowed onward. “I think that, um, you might be...my parents. I remember your faces. I know, um, I know we got separated a long time ago, but I—” and a tentative smile spread over her face, “I found you. I finally found you.”
She wasn’t sure if it was her words or her sharp canines, but both of her parents blanched. Confusion and dread started to settle inside her. Had she been wrong?
“I did, didn’t I? You are my parents?” She felt a few raindrops hit as it began to sprinkle.
The woman looked worried, but the man’s face hardened.
“We are.” He said, his tone steely. “But we didn’t lose you.”
His words clanged through her as her mind scrambled to find meaning, and her gaze went to the two normal, human children playing on a rug before the hearth, both happy, both loved. They had started a family without her. They had replaced her. They had...abandoned her.
“We intentionally gave you up. We didn’t—don’t—want you.” The man’s eyes narrowed, taking in her horns, her black eyes, her tail that flicked nervously behind her, and his face filled with disgust and abhorrence. “You’re not our child—the gods made a mistake when my wife bore you. The only thing you would bring to this family is shame. We’re better off without you. If you truly cared about us, you would understand that. Leave now and never return.” And he shoved her out of their doorway.
She stumbled backward, in shock, as the sky opened up and rain poured from the clouds. She was soaked almost instantly.
The door slammed and they were gone, back to their other children, their normal children. The only children they wanted. Because they didn’t want her.
An awful grief rose up inside her and dragged her under its current, overwhelming her.
Her legs managed to carry her a few feet back down the road before giving way, and she collapsed in the mud. She couldn’t tell which wetness on her face was from tears and which from rain, but as she sat in the mud—dirty, cold, and utterly alone—she began to weep in earnest. Great, heaving sobs that she had no control over wracked her, left her gasping for breath. Her hands searched for something to hold onto but found only fistfuls of brown muck, which gave way in her hands to leak back to the road.
“My child, what ails you?”
Her eyes snapped upward to find a very large, handsome gentleman with a perfectly trimmed beard crouched beside her. His...his skin—it was red, like hers. He had horns, as she did. He...he actually looked like her. She’d sometimes wondered if she was the only one of her kind—an abomination. But she wasn’t, and she felt a rush of relief. An instant sense of kinship spread within her.
As she stared at him in wonder, forgetting the question he’d asked, she realized that she felt warm and dry instead of freezing and wet, and the rain had stopped. Or, at least, it had in a wide bubble around the two of them, his magic insulating them against the weather.
Magic...she’d seen magic-users from afar throughout her life and envied them fiercely. To be able to wield it and show those who kicked or spit on or offended her their mistake...she ached for it almost as much as she’d ached to find her parents.
“Wh-who are you?”
He grasped her hand lightly and pulled her to her feet.
“I am the only one who sees you for what you’re truly worth, your incredible, immense potential...the only one who cares for you the way you deserve to be cared for. You may call me Asmodeus. I am here to show you your destiny and make you stronger than you’ve ever known. To bestow upon you your natural birthright as my descendant.”
And he put a hand to her cheek, cradling her face.
Affection. She’d never felt it, never been shown any. Her soul was starved for it and she gobbled it up eagerly, her eyes fluttering closed, never pausing to second guess, never pausing to consider what he might gain from helping her as his words echoed in her head, filling her with hope. She didn’t care even if he did have an ulterior motive—it’s not like any of the gods had done anything for her. They had left her to her fate as a wretched outcast, abandoned by her parents and reviled by her town. If it was a fiend—the fiend—who chose to help her, to value her, then so be it. Her allegiance was settled inside her, and for the first time in a long time, perhaps even forever, she felt good. Strong.
Opening her eyes, she looked up into Asmodeus’s glowing red eyes. “My natural birthright? You...you can make me powerful?”
“Yes, my child. I can bestow upon you powers you’ve only dreamed of. I can give you what you want.” He paused to smile and brush back the black hair that had been plastered to her face. “You deserve to be angry, to take your vengeance on these people who’ve treated you like the dirt they walk on. You deserve to be respected, to be feared.”
And she was—she was angry. So angry. The spark inside her roared into a flame, a raging wildfire that raced through her veins, filling her with a familiar hatred for the people of this town, a hatred that now included the people who’d birthed and abandoned her.
She wanted what Asmodeus offered. She wanted vengeance, respect, and to be feared. More than anything. She wanted the power to make it so.
“Yes,” She breathed, transfixed by him and his words. “Yes.”
“I will support you with gifts, I will give you power and weapons and training. I will help you become who you’re meant to be.” He paused, making sure his words hit home. They did.
“And in return, all I ask is you occasionally assist me with tasks I assign you.”
“Yes, anything,” she whispered.
A satisfied smile spread across his handsome face and with one hand he reached out and touched a fingertip to her forehead. Immediately, her dirty, wet rags were replaced with new, dry clothing; a heavy pack full of supplies settled itself on her back; and magic raced through her, filling her from head to toe, making her lightheaded, almost dizzy from the power, the strength, that was now inside her.
A slow grin formed on her face. If she lived just for this feeling, she would live well and be satisfied.
“I offer you one more gift tonight—your vengeance on these people who have forsaken you. What would you have me do in your name?”
She stared at him, then swept her gaze across the farmlands and the parents who didn’t want her, then back down the road to the town that had made her an eternal victim.
“Burn it. Burn it all.”
And he smiled at her. Holding a hand outstretched, flames rose to engulf the town—all of it, even the outskirts, even her parents.
Everything burned.
The night was made bright as the light of the flames reached for the skies, and a cacophony of screams rose as everyone was consumed by Asmodeus’s wicked fire. It was awful and terrible and wonderful.
Any sense of shock or remorse that she might’ve felt was chased away by the overwhelming, heady feeling of victory and power. So much power. It was part of her now.
Asmodeus had disappeared, but she barely noticed.
For hours, she watched as the flames and the agonized screams died down to nothing, leaving only ash behind.
She was Aza the Abandoned and she would never feel powerless again.
Was inspired to write up my tiefling warlock's backstory. Hope you enjoy! ^_^