Venn was born to an insignificant family in the countryside east of Mathryn. There was no known association with devils and apostasy in the family's background but Venn's ancestry was impossible to ignore: scaled skin the color of blood, a prehensile tail, teeth like needles... To save her own life from charges of consorting with the infernal, she gave up Venn to the Church of Mitra where he spent more than twenty years of his life in seclusion. Practically a prison sentence for sins he had never committed, judgment rendered upon birth. All right and proper in the eyes of the Mitran faithful.
"You're lucky someone didn't dash your skull against the rocks when you were born, beastling!" That's what one of the priests told him when he was old enough to question his circumstances. What followed was the lash for his disobedience. And then he was off, as he was every day, to learn of Mitra's beneficence. His love. Grace. But all Venn felt or experienced was the wrath of the Sun Lord. Silently, only ever whispered to the darkness of his cell, Venn nursed a deep loathing for his "teachers" and the god they professed to serve.
As Venn grew older, he began to defy his teachers, but always in the darkness of night. He would slip from his cell to explore the orphanage in which he was raised. Eventually, he found a library and, secured within that, accounts of the Asmodean Purges. Of the apostasy and heresy itself, there were few direct accounts, but Venn began to read between the lines. He saw there were those who believed in gods other than Mitra. Those who opposed Mitra. That there were other paths. There was a way to resist. To fight back.
He began to make plans for his escape and made good on them a year later. He spent the next year surviving in the wilds, stealing and poaching, learning how to hunt living creatures for food and survival using a bow he'd stolen from a fur hunter while the man was relieving himself. His crimes were many but mostly petty in nature. Truth is, ever since his escape, he was desperate simply to survive. He'd nearly starved while trying to learn to use the bow. Taking revenge upon the Mitran faithful would have required first a sense of stability, strength... competency. None of which he had when he first escaped. He had to teach himself, for he knew no one would help him and he had to look out for himself. Still, what he'd learned in those books stuck in the back of his mind. "Soon, soon," he'd whisper himself to sleep, usually under the cold light of a moon with a threadbare blanket he'd stolen from a clothesline.
Eventually, his luck ran out. While he'd ventured into a hamlet, loosely disguised beneath an old cloak and blanket and trying to steal some food, he was spotted by one of the townsfolk. She tried to stop Venn, laying hands on him and cursing him when she saw what he was. Finally, he'd had enough. The rage that had been welling within him overflowed. Throwing back his coverings, he leapt upon her and began to beat her. Left fist. Right. Left. Teeth bared. Screaming savagely. He lost himself to the rage and was eventually pulled off. When he came to his senses, he found himself surrounded by soldiers, led by a knight. Sir Balin of Karfeld. The self-righteous bastard, he was already judging Venn based on his appearance. When he demanded Venn explain himself and why he'd assaulted the woman, the tiefling unloaded the years of rage and mistreatment he'd suffered on the knight.
"You arrogant, puscelanimous fool! You spread these lies of Mitra's kindness. Mitra's power. Mitra's forgiveness. Mitra is a lie! He lies to you! He lies to these people! You serve a cruel god, bound in racism, condemning those different from you, subjugating other races! And you question me!? My morality!? MY BIRTH!? I spit on you! I spit on your god, for I know better! I know of Asmodeus! I know of the alternative path! You've tried to purge it, to purge the knowledge, to brainwash these people, but. I know! The Prince of Hell sees through your lies and if it be with my last breath I shall see them and your entire, corrupt faith exposed for the charlatans you are! Open your eyes, people, open them to the lies told to you by the nobles who keep you in chains!"
CRACK! He never saw it coming, but someone's mailed fist had slammed into his jaw and the darkness that overcame his mind silenced his heresy as well. At his trial, he was bound and gagged, prevented from speaking with only an appointed "advocate" to speak for him. A Mitran, of course. Venn's fate was already decided.
If only there was a way out...
