Diascira Valeria Nee Lebeda

The Broken Dragon
Born at the height of House Dragon's power, all Diascira ever wanted to do was serve her country the best she could and make her family proud. Her grandfather had made her family very powerful and the people very happy. Everywhere she went people would tell her just how wonderful the king was and how proud they were to serve him. She paid no mind to the royal guards with her that stared the citizens down with daggers in their eyes. They always looked like that. Shed did know that not everything was perfect, that's why the Order of the True Flame was always looking for recruits. People willing to find evil and stamp it out at the source.

The Flame Spurned were her favorite though. She would always remember the first time she saw them. An evil paladin was saying that her father was a tyrant and a devil worshiper. How could anyone think that? He had killed the evil noble houses that sought to tear the country apart, and wiped out crime within the kingdom. She was quite happy when a group of four women sprang down from the rooftops wrapped the man's arm's and legs in cloth then set fire to the cloth. The cloth retracted violently and with the strength of steel springs, tearing the limbs off the paladin. The sprays of color fascinated her as he bled out in the streets. She would be one of them, the good ladies of the Flame Spurned, bringing joy to the land and peace to the evil doers.

Trial by Flame and Pain
When her 21st birthday came, Diascira did not hesitate to join the next conversion course. Women attempting to join the flame spurned held a 90% dropout rate and 40% mortality rate, but none of that concerned her. She knew she could pass the trials of the mind if only her body would allow her. She had trained her entire adolescent and adult life for this moment, failure was not an option. When she saw her grandpa, King Finn, attending her ceremony she couldn't help but wave and smile at him. The fact the king had made time to see her initiated filled her with pride.

When boiling oil was poured over her the first day and the priests of the Order called for her to renounce her faith, she remembered the fiery gazes of the Flame Spurned as they hunted their targets. When her hair was clipped and her scalp carved with the names of the goddesses, she roared her allegiance to them with all the might her body could muster. When her skin was flayed from her body, she chanted that the new flesh granted to her by the goddesses would steel her against the weapons of her foes. When she was finally named Flame Spurned after the week long trials and all but three of the women with her had failed, she looked at her grandfather with pride and vowed to slay the enemies of him and the goddesses as long as she lived. She embraced her grandfather, unflinching as he returned the embrace to her flayed body. She had succeeded where so many else had failed, and more importantly she had made her king proud.

Children of the Fire
A year after her trial, she gave birth to her daughter Fira. Her husband, Kyrian Lebeda, had been quite reluctant to assist her in bringing life to the world, but when forced to acknowledge that failing to bring life to the world was a sin in the goddesses eyes he complied. Her daughter was a beautiful creature, an aasimar like her mother with hair the color of the sun. Such a beautiful girl would not be wasted on a fawning nobleman eager to please. Rather, she would follow her mother's footsteps and become a proud huntress. At the age of two, Fira first grabbed a knife and carved a rabbit under her mother's watchful eye. She was scalded with boiling water every month then every week as she grew older, training for her trials. When her daughter was four, Diascira requested that one of the heretics imprisoned by the Order be given to her daughter as training. The former cleric of Sarenrae's hands and feet were lopped off prior to being delivered, but it was little Fira who delivered the killing blow. When her daughter shed not a tear for the blasphemer's death, Diascira felt an ember of joy within her emotionless heart. She had given birth to a perfect girl, one that would surpass even her own mother in the future. Her daughter would have plenty of chances to improve as well. The First Crusade of the Flame had been declared that year, and thousands of heretics and blasphemers were clogging the dungeons of the Order. Plenty of practice for her little girl before her trial.

Northern Heretics
It was late in the year 4805. An aasimar cleric named Xander Blackwater had killed two members of House Dragon and joined House Chimera in the War of the Three Houses. The reason this meant something to Diascira was that he was a citizen of Brevoy by birth in Winterbreak. The heretic had called no end of grief to the royal family, and it was her job as a captain of the Flame spurned to hunt down his relatives and any heretics in the land and capture them. The good little cleric would rush home to save his family, and he would die a traitor's death. A detachment of twenty flame spurned led by Diascira and her boss High Inquisitor Nathye Gere headed to Winterbreak and promptly began their search. The Blackwater family was easy to find, a well known and respected family. When the father put up a struggle as he refused entry to couple's home and refused to tell them where his son was, Diascira snuffed out his life with a flick of her flame-imbued whip. His body was unceremoniously hung at the pier as a warning to the town, and the former Mrs now Ms. Blackwater was imprisoned. The children of the town were gathered into the local orphanage and assigned guardians from the flame spurned. Fira was placed into the orphanage with several other Children of the Fire. She would be looking for anyone trying to break into the orphanage or any children trying to break out. If she saw anything, she would take the other children prisoner with the blade given to her by her mother and then kill them if the intruder/escapee continued.

With the children held hostage, the Flame Spurned began to zealously hunt down heresy on the island and forcibly convert the womenfolk into Flame Spurned. Every woman failed the trial except one, Heidi Nidintail. She was the perfect candidate for the Flame Spurned and even better a former playmate of Xander's. Convincing her to kill her father for heresy was somewhat troublesome, but when she did Diascira knew that Heidi could be counted on to deceive Xander when he inevitable came to rescue his home.

Mother's Fury
The young cleric arrived with the mercenary party he had joined as well as several friends he had recruited for the job. Diascira did not learn of his presence. Not until she learned that the orphanage had been attacked and her daughter shot through the head by Numerian technology. Her rage and sorrow, long forgotten, resurfaced with a fury that only a mother could possess. She descended on the orphanage and began to slaughter the children who remained, for if she could not have her baby girl no parent could. The few surviving children outran her whip, forcing her to return to town. She would hang every member of the town until he came and faced her himself instead of cowering behind children and killing her only child. No smile came to her lips as she heard of the deaths of three of Xander's party. Two had remained at the orphanage and she had killed them without a thought, the third had been an android ambushed on the other side of town. The android had been armed with two revolvers, the murderer or her child. Her child was death and she would only have closure when his entire town and party had choked under her hold. News of Nathye's death at the southern border of town forced her out of her haze. Her boss had been a powerful inquisitor, blessed by the twin goddesses themselves with eternal life. She would have to ambush the party as they had ambushed her daughter.

The two sides clashed in the town square of Winterbreak. Flame Spurned sprang from the roofs only to be rebuffed by a masked figure. No matter, she could kill them all herself. A paladin charged her, crying to Sarenrae that he would end this abomination. She snuffed him out with three flicks of her whip. Silly fool, the twin goddesses were hers to worship, not some blasphemous fool. Her faith did not prepare her though for the fury with which the party sought vengeance for the cleric's town. Divine beasts blessed by the gods savaged her face, veiled blades held by foreigners stabbed at her back, and the masked figure and a monk in flame charged her again and again. Knowing she would die here, she took solace in knowing that with her death the party would fall as well. The goddesses had blessed her so that on her death a beautiful angel would fly down from the stars and immolate her foes in purifying flame. As her eyes closed for the last time, she smiled knowing she would be with her baby girl soon.