In ancient times the illustrious empire of Ushanad held sway over the land, such was their power, even the wildest tribes couldn't deny it and bent the knee. For a time the lordly council ruled wisely but with great power comes greater temptation and over the centuries, corruption festered in the ruling caste. Eventually the nobility slaughtered the righteous among their ranks, summoned the darkest demons from the deepest pits of Hell, and swore their souls to them for rule everlasting. They were given unto temptation, and bestowed the youth and sorcerous blood to indulge it. An age of darkness ensued before the empire's downtrodden rose in rebellion and the surviving nobility were scattered to the wind, never to rule again. The contemporary legacy of that tainted lineage are known as Tieflings.
You are not a Tiefling and have more loathing for them than any wholly mortal frame can hold. If you'll listen to one rattle on they'll wax poetic about their infernal heritage, the guilt they've inherited, and the discrimination they face- and then the inn's patrons will clap, give condolences, and toss coins in their cup. If you weren't wearing a hood you'd be chased out of town and burnt at the stake. They go on about how close their souls are to Hell, how much they struggle with that twinge of temptation and try their best to be good- while listeners nod and offer pithy platitudes. Hell is breathing down your neck. You aren't tempted, you're commanded, and every minute of every day is a struggle to reject it and the intrusive thoughts, grotesque compulsions, and hideous nightmares that your own flesh, blood, and blackened soul demands. Damnation isn't a choice you can make, it's looming, laughing on the other side of death's door and for all you know you're already condemned. You don't care what comes after, what matters is the here and now, and you've dedicated your life to getting through each and every day. You might not be Good, but you damned sure try.
That's all any Demonspawn with an atrophied, shuddering husk of a conscience can do.
So, why did you come to the Winking Jester's Inn today?
You heard a whisper on the grapevine that a monster in man's skin would be here.
You need work and misbegotten son of Hell or no, this is the best place in town for a hired blade to find it.
You'd like to sleep under a watertight roof for once and rumor has it the Innkeeper here values privacy.