Tiberius is not affiliated with any of the major houses in any way.
His family where merchants on the lower levels of society, but still a bit above the worst of the rabble. As they had a bit of coin to their name, Tiberius grew up without any major hurdles. Sharing the family home with him, in addition to his parents, where three younger siblings and a blind surface dweller slave. At times, the meagre house got a bit crowded, but his mother and father were frequently away on trading missions. The roads of the Azathyr are dangerous affairs and greater merchant frequently send lesser ones to carry out their business - and it was this way his parents earned most of their coin.
Sadly, inevitably, the roads take their toll. First - his father succumbed to the bite of a wild beast and the resulting infection in the Fungal Jungle. Then, his mother where slain by bandits a few years later. His oldest sister inherited the household, business and guardianship of his youngest sister and brother while Tiberius sought out his own way in life. Somehow, he would bring Order to the Azathyr. No matter the cost.
On his knees, he cut a black rose from the bush he had been tending. In Azathyr the delicate flowers would probably fetch a higher price on the markets then his life. With uttermost care, he placed the rose in the bowl of soil. This was it. This was the day. Slowly, he started to recite.
"By my blood and soul do I swear myself as an ally to Hell against the many-faced forces of Chaos. I will revenge myself against those who wrong me, with an eye for an eye and blood for blood, and teach those who come to me seeking the tools to avenge themselves. From me my enemies shall experience neither mercy nor redemption, and I shall drive Chaos before me as the wolf drives the herd to stampede, until I can no longer draw breath or its taint is removed from the world."
His throat felt dry after speaking the ancient oath. There was no going back now - yet all he felt was relief. Slowly, he rose to his feet and stood face to face with the dark angel. As the erinye handed him the ritual blade, her face betrayed the first hints of emotion with a thin smile. Pride. And anticipation. First - a deep breath. Then he pulled the blade across his palm and held out his left hand, letting the blood drip down into the bowl. Crimson mixed with the silver of the container and the dark soil. Across him, the fury mirrored his moves. With curiosity, he noted that the devil's blood where uncannily similar to his. Then she spoke:
"There is no god above the Law."
"There is no labour unendurable in the name of the Law."
"There is no pain unendurable in the name of the Law."
"There is no fear unassailable with faith in the Law."
"There is no end. There is a place for us all in the city of Dis. Eternal glory awaits!"
Feeling the fire in his chest ignite - he recited the lines too. This was it. This was his day. Soon, things would change! With one last look at the rose he turned and left, the ritual complete. The exquisite flower he wouldn't see again, not until his days where done. What lay ahead of him now was his Task, his Quest, his Grand Work. To bring Law to the Lawless of these Cursed lands. With a smile on his own cruel lips, the first on many years, he quickened his pace. He could not start soon enough!