T'aria was born in Sigil, City of Doors, in the Outer Planes. She grew up on the streets of the Hive, one of the least savory areas of the city. Having no memory of her parents, and having the phrase “cursed spawn of the lower planes” flung at her many times, she was forced to do what she could to survive as it was clear that no help was forthcoming. Most of her childhood was spent in a struggle of survival, of attempting not to be noticed by those stronger than she, by living off of the scraps of others, and stealing from those who would not care, or would not notice. Somehow, she escaped the notice of the Thieves’ Guild in Sigil until she was 25, when she made the mistake of lifting a fat purse from one of the higher-ranking members of the Guild. The guild member, surprised at the young cambion’s audacity and self-taught skill (cambion being the name half-fiends such as herself were called), he sponsored her into the Guild. Always a dexterous individual (of both body and mind), T’aria took the training the Guild offered and rose through the ranks rapidly. As she grew more confident in her skills, she also became more confident of her wishes – to be Guildmaster of the entire Thieves’ Guild in Sigil. However, skill can only take one so far in the Guild’s hierarchy, and after she reached that glass ceiling her promotions became more and more often assisted by the mysterious resignations or deaths of those ahead of her. Although many suspected her helping her superiors to meet their gods or for blackmailing them into resigning, no evidence was ever found to indicate her in any such doings. Nonetheless, any direct superior of hers felt it wise to watch their backs, and their secrets, carefully.

In her 40th year (cambions being nearly as long-lived as their fiendish parent), T'aria was inducted into the second-highest rank of the thieves' guild (once again aided by the untimely and mysterious resignation of her immediate superior). As a member of the Shadows, T'aria was shown the history of the guild and its secrets. She was surprised to discover that the guild was headed by clerics of Mask, Lord of Shadows and God of Thieves, and was functioning as a sort of church in the heart of Sigil. This was something that the Lady of Pain, the ruler of Sigil, had forbidden - the founding of a church in her city. Historically, all others who had tried had been very swiftly punished by the Lady's harsh justice. However, the Lord of Shadows was well known for insinuating His influence into places where He wasn't wanted. As there was no actual church structure it was doubtful that the Lady even knew of the ‘church’ comprised of Mask's priests within Sigil.

T’aria was fascinated by the tenets of the God's faith, and swiftly became an acolyte Demarchess (Demarchess being a female cleric of Mask, Demarch being a male cleric of Mask). Mask seemed to favor her, for she quickly became a powerful priest, even by the standards of the eldest Demarchs. Her meteoric rise in power and rank made many of the clergy nervous, for all knew she was eyeing higher ranks... and all recalled the convenient resignations, deaths, and disappearances of those who stood in her way before. The highest Demarchs met with the Guildmaster discussed what to do about the growing threat. It was decided that they could not risk having her outright killed, as Mask quite obviously greatly favored her, and none wished to go directly against His favored. For the moment there was a standoff - T'aria had not directly or indirectly moved against any of them as of yet, but all felt she would within the next two years at a minimum. So, she was set a task that they hoped would occupy her for a good deal longer... and, if Tymora smiled upon them, would finish her threat for them.

Cyric, God of Tyranny, Madness, Murder and Lies, and one of Mask's main adversaries, drew a great deal of his power from his worshippers on one of the Prime Material Planes named Faerun. Most of those were gathered in a place called Zhentil Keep. T'aria was sent to investigate this Zhentil Keep, and to see if there was anything she could do to sabotage or subvert worshippers from Cyric. She knew she was being ordered to an absurd and hopeless quest, but dared not refuse. She knew that the fear the other Demarchs felt was such that had she refused, there was a good chance they would simply risk having her killed instead. Although this was obviously meant as a suicide mission, there was the possibility that she could find a way to survive until she was powerful enough to return and challenge the ones who had sent her on the quest.

A portal was located that would send her to the tunnels and caverns underneath Zhentil Keep - a very carefully researched portal. It was activated, and T'aria stepped through to find herself in a dark cavern that stretched off into the darkness in either direction. After taking a few moments to investigate, she came to the conclusion that the portal was, as she had suspected, one-way. Blessing the demonic blood that allowed her to see even in the pitch black of the tunnels, she set off. After walking for but a short time, there came from ahead of her sounds of battle, echoing down the tunnels, along with flickers of light from torches. Slipping into the shadows cast by the torches, she moved forward to see a group of humans and elves battling a small horde of undead. Calculating quickly, and glad now she had taken the time to don clothing that would disguise her as human, she stepped up to assist the adventurers.

After the battle had been won, she discovered to her chagrin that one of the adventurers was a Paladin of Helm, God of Guardians. Hiding her holy symbol (the half-mask that all the faithful of the Lord of Shadows wear), T'aria introduced herself and told her story… or rather, she told a story. She said that she had been bound out of Sigil, and she had been shown a portal and told that it led to Faerun. Stepping through, she had discovered herself in a place she did not wish to be – in these tunnels. Experimentation had shown her that the portal she had traveled through was one-way, so she was now stranded with way to currently return to her home city, and no way to the surface but wandering the tunnels. As T'aria had suspected, the simple-minded Paladin readily accepted her story, backed up as it was by his truth-detecting spells. She had told the utter truth… of course, she had left a few details out, but that was immaterial. Several of the others in the party were not so trusting, as she overheard (when they thought they were out of hearing). However, she also overheard that the Paladin could not detect for evil while the group was underneath Zhentil Keep, as he had attempted earlier and had nearly been blinded. Apparently, the very walls radiated evil.

Confident for the moment of her safety, T'aria requested that she be allowed to travel with the group, at least until they could reach the surface. They agreed, introduced each of themselves, and described their purpose in the tunnels. It turned out that the group (calling themselves The Lords of the Crimson Flame) was after a Holy Sword for the paladin that was rumored to be down here somewhere. There was a great war brewing on the surface between all the goodly races and the goblinoid races, and these adventurers were to be part of the forces to combat the enemy. Currently, they were on a mission to gather all the artifacts and magic that they could find that would assist in the upcoming battles.

After recovering the paladin's holy sword (although not without quite a few battles in which T'aria endeavored to make herself useful and earn their trust), the party left the caverns and teleported back to "Zan's Keep" - the Keep currently being built by the defacto leader of the resistance versus the goblinoid armies. Once there, and introduced to the Gold Elf Bladesinger Zantriel Silverymoon, she was told more of the current situation. The army that was massing had attracted nearly every goblin, hobgoblin, kobold, orc, and like races in the northern reaches of Faerun, and a good deal from the south. It was rumored that they were being led by a race of oddly militant, intelligent orcs that called themselves the "Scro".

Deciding she would get no better chance to ‘hide’ until she could amass enough power to challenge those who sent her here (and seeing the riches that the half-built Keep-in-progress already boasted) she offered her abilities as a scout to Zantriel. Seeing as they knew little about the Scro and their army, and had only very few true scouts, he accepted. Soon thereafter, Zan and several of his lieutenants (collectively known as the Silverlords, their old adventuring company name), decided to travel abroad attempting to gain new allies for the upcoming battle. T'aria joined them for the time being, as they would possibly come across enemy encampments or movements, and she would have a good chance to scout them out there. At least, that is what she told the Silverlords. Good luck seemed to hover about their leader, Zan - and the trip looked to be a profitable one, which had much more to do with her decision than any desire to help did.

T'aria traveled with the Silverlords on and off for close to four years. She did do a decent amount of scouting of the enemy - her skills at stealth far surpassing the security of the Scro's troops, although the Scro camps themselves were quite a bit more challenging. However, the more she learned, the more she believed that Zan's ragtag "army" of adventurers, elves, and some few squads of humans were far outclassed when it came to the Scro. Zan's troops were outnumbered at least 20 to 1. Faced with the unfailing optimism from most everyone else that the Scro would be defeated, she knew that no plans would be made for possible failure. As such, T’aria took a few steps to ensure, at the very least, her own survival. Doing a bit of research, she found a nearby portal that led back to Sigil... one that she could activate from this end. Unfortunately, the portal was one-way – she could not come back to Faerun this way. Normally, that wouldn’t matter – but she could not tell where exactly the Portal let out to, besides just “the Hive in Sigil” and she also couldn’t step through a little ahead of time to set things up on that end for her plans. But, still considering it lucky that those born in the City of Doors had the innate ability to sense portals to other Planes, she lifted a few maps of the surrounding area from the Keep and plotted the fastest and easiest course between the two.

It was another year before the armies began clashing in earnest. And it was 6 years after T'aria was all but exiled to this Prime when what she had been expecting finally came. The Scro armies were marching across everything placed in their path. The Silverlords were spread across the continent, desperately attempting to slow the tide, and Zan was attempting to implement one last-ditch effort to block the destruction sweeping the continent.

A contingent of Scro broke off from the main deployment and turned their march toward Zan’s Keep, having no doubt discovered that it was the safehold of one of the main generals of the opposition. Zan, or course, was not in residence – but the Keep had been being used as a barracks and training ground for new troops, and was thus a target. T’aria was one of the first to hear that the Scro were marching – and implemented the plans she had been making. Obviously, this minor little Prime Plane was going away rather soon, and she needed to be on her way back to Sigil for some important, unfinished business. As the half-trained troops gathered and attempted to prepare for the approaching enemy, she prowled her way into all the vaults, storehouses, and personal quarters of the Silverlords, picking up items that she had mentally marked over the past few years. A store of Bags of Holding and Portable Holes (easily lifted off of the Silverlords and the Lords of the Crimson Flame, each of which had expanded from simple adventuring companies into elite special forces units, as well as various other personages) carried whatever she deemed worthwhile to take. As a special ‘favor’ to Dan, Zan’s best friend and general ranking only below Zan himself, T’aria very carefully disarmed all the traps in the paranoid elf’s room, examined them for worn components, and replaced them as she left… taking everything of value in the room. Just in case the Keep should survive.

The fighting was drawing near to the Keep when she left, easily slipping past elven, human, and Scro scouts alike. Arriving at the Portal, she activated it with a quickly recited phrase. Without a glance backward, she stepped home.

Luckily, the portal led to an inconspicuous spot, and she was able to slink off without being noticed, using all her skill to do so. She contacted a few people that she knew in the Guild, and discovered that nothing had really changed in the years she had been gone. The meeting hall was in a different location, but that was moved twice a year or so anyway. She sold and traded most of what she had gained from the Keep for cash and items much more useful to her, and started making plans for dealing with the Demarchs and the Guildmaster.

So it was 3 days later that when the Demarchs and Guildmaster of the Thieves’ Guild gathered to discuss the month’s business, they found T’aria sitting in the new meeting hall (which had been locked, trapped both mystically and mundanely, and guarded magically and physically just a few minutes before). She was sitting at her ease, hooved feet up on the grand table, a glass of fine Baatorian wine from the sideboard in her hand. She smiled at them, fangs not too visible, and with her off hand whipped a poisoned dart in the direction of the Guildmaster. It took him in the throat and he dropped like a vrock on a hound archon.

“Now that I have taken care of that nasty little bit of business,” T’aria removed her feet from the table and leaned forward so her elbows were resting on the table, wineglass to her right, fingers steepled in front of her face, “let’s take care of this month’s business, shall we?”

The fact that she was sitting at the head of the table, in the Guildmaster’s own chair, was not lost on any of the Demarchs gathered in the room. With bows ordinarily reserved for the Guildmaster, and faces showing no more emotion than they always did, the others took their places around the great table. Leaning back slightly, T’aria pushed the button mounted underneath the table that summoned the guards stationed outside the great double-doors of the room. When one of them stepped inside, she gestured at the body laying in the middle of the floor. “Have that garbage disposed of promptly.”

The guard briefly glanced around the great table, then bowed to her. “Yes, Guildmistress.”

T’aria headed the Guild for close to 50 years. Then, one day for no reason, no reason at all, Mask abandoned her.

T’aria awoke with a jolt. Fearing an assassination attempt, she rolled off her lavish bed onto a certain “safe” spot on the nightingale floor, while piercing the darkness with her demonic darkvision. Seeing nothing, and no one, in the room, she attempted to activate one of the many protective spells she had cast on herself – only to discover all her protective spells had failed. Fearing the worst, she chanted a brief word and gestured, attempting to cast a simply light spell. Only to have it fail. And worse yet… to not even feel the power answer her call. Growing desperate, and reluctant to move from her location until she discovered what had awoken her, she reached along the link to her God… only to repel herself in shock. She touched Mask, yes, as she had many times before – but instead of the normal, mildly affectionate (much as one would feel affectionate towards a possession) presence she normally contacted, she instead touched… something else. Something undeniably Mask – but cruel, and amused. As if He had been just waiting for her to reach out, she felt another surge of amusement – and then, nothing. Her divine connection to her God was severed. T’aria fell to her hands and knees in shock as pain lanced through her, the pain of a High Priestess being severed from her deity.

She was indeed lucky that there was no assassin waiting in the wings, as she would have been an easy target for those several minutes she lie, panting, on the floor.

After she recovered, T’aria quickly gathered a few of her things, and activated the bracers she had kept to dimension door herself out of the room. As the glowing doorway opened before her, the door to her room opened behind her. Glancing behind herself as she stepped forward, T’aria noticed several of the Shadows, along with a few Demarchs and Demarchesses stepping into the room. The glowing portal closed behind her just as one started casting and several produced weapons.

She sighed and turned to the Planar Portal her dimension door had deposited her in front of and sighed. “Well, I lost them on this Prime before,” she murmured, recalling the first time she had been to Faerun. “At least this exile is by choice… at least until I find out what happened.” She activated the Portal and stepped through. “Hopefully, they’ve rebuilt by now…”