Here the background I have written, an idea I had. The story is a bit based on Sovereign stone, if you know, or what this world could become... So, here it goes:
In his world, the live is hard. Honest people must strive to survive, as they are there and they watch. His people are slaves of them. They rule them. The weaker are there and watch. A few good warriors could dispatch them easily, but they would come back, and they would have no pity. They don’t have any pity.
As long as his people can remember, they have been here. A few elders told of a time where his people was free to roam the world, following there herds, but it is hard to believe now. The elders story tell of a tribe that would have made a pact with some spirits to win a war that had starts before any warrior who was fighting it has ever born. The leader of that tribe asks his shaman to find a way to end the war. The whole tribe would have bound there destiny to some spirits, but the spirits would have turn against the tribe and eliminate them, but it was too late, the spirits had reach there world, and today, they rules. The war is ended, but worst have come.
They use them to get raw materials from his homeland. They had to cut downs whole forest, dig the earth for some shining metals and colourful stones. They have no pity for his homeland, and none for his people. When they don’t use them as slaves, they use them as toy. It is not uncommon to see those abused in bad shape, if not dead. And it is not unheard of that some new born have the mark of them. Those born with the mark play a special role in the society; they use them to translate the orders of the spirits. But they are seen badly on both sides. His people fear them, thinking they are spies, the spirits sees them just as defect of the tribes, only good to translate. And if they get killed under the whip, they are quickly replaced, as more and more are born with the mark these days.
He was one of the marked. A few patches of scales on the skins mark him. He was lucky in his bad luck, as he was born in really good health. The spirit who was watching over his tribe decides to make him his bodyguard over his translator. It didn’t make his life easier, but at least, the whip stop before he died under it. He had to both learn his master tongues and train as a warrior. His mentor didn’t like to teach him, as teaching the art of war to a marked was something seen as a dishonour, but he was playing the life of his family in training him.
He stayed under the service of his master for over 20 years. During that time, he heard a bit of another world, the world of the spirits. A war was waging in the spirit’s homeland. He heard of a neutral land, somewhere both side had no power. They named the city Sigil. He didn’t know what it looks like, but if he had a chance to get out of his miserable life, it would be in that city. It is during his 24th or 25th summer that he heard his master talking to a messenger. He was talking that the key to open the door that led to Sigil had changed. The key was despair, and the door had move to the mausoleum of an ancient chieftain, not far from where they were. He didn’t understand how despair could be a key, and how a door could move, but he knew it was his only chance, and so he decide to give a try, even if he knew failure meant his death.
During the night, he left his master side and starts to run in the plain. He knew he would have only a few minutes lead, and time was precious. He run to the mausoleum to find it closed. The doorway seemed to be sealed since a long time. How could it be possible? He heard the messenger. Trying to find the way he heard some noise behind him. He turns back and saw his master. He didn’t seem quite happy to see him there. His master lift his sword, and at the moment the blade was falling on his head, he fumble back, but instead of being stop by the sealed doorway, he fall over his back in a dark alley of a strange world. A red skin man looks at him with strange smiles. He spokes a few words. He heard some words spoken by his master, another language he tried to learn while listening to him speaking with other spirits. He has found the neutral ground, were his master had no power. It was time to find his way in this maze of strange house.
It has been two weeks by now, and he starts to understand more the speaking of the locals, but he was lucky to find a few people able to speak his master tongue. Most of them couldn’t be trusted, but a few was kind enough to teach him a bit of what they named the Common tongue in exchange of his muscle.
And so it end... if you like it, I'll stat it out, but I'll need the money of a Barbarian. As you could have guess, it is a Barbarian Tiefling born in a Prime world.
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Ah, LordA, way to go! That's made my day! 
