Pacifica

"Revenge is a dish best served cold. But even the best of the best cannot prevail against the blazing sun.”
The 13th Legion. Wasn’t t a particularly large clan, but skilled. Every member trained in the art of assassinating, every member powerful enough to dismember one three times their size. Malicious, merciless, able to kill without blinking an eye. Most of the time, they were up and available for the some may say… stranger occupations. Settling disputes, stopping border skirmishes for once and for all, and even wiping out entire clans when need be. Whoever called them to arms, whoever had the riches to pay for it, the Legion was by their side.
Sahir, leader, craftier than the smartest of arcane, more bloodthirsty than the most sadistic plague. Killed with the speed of his element, a single swipe able to leech the life out of a dragon. When he was unable to kill, Sahir hunted, though the dying woes of prey were not enough to quench his appetite for death.
Nafrit, his loyal mate, a healer of wounds caused in battle. Strong enough to kill, skilled enough to heal.
Menthru a beast in himself, hungering for the lust of blood and the destruction of war. A hulking brute, craving death and the feeling of bones crushed under his enormous feet.
Diopside, arguably the most intelligent, special tasks and roles falling on her shoulders whenever they were needed.
Strong. Brave. Cunning. Reckless.
A fire clan, driven by a burning thirst for revenge against a noble tribe by the name of Sunstrike, hired them, lacking the skill to overtake their foes themselves. The 13th legion readily agreed; it would be an easy task.
With a steady confidence in their hearts, the clan set off; believing--knowing that victory was in their grasp. After all, who was smart enough…strong enough to defeat them? If they weren’t the most feared in the region, they had to be one of them.
Who could possibly be a worthy opponent?
The 13th Legion never realized how wrong they could get.
Destroyed. Crushed. Razed to the ground. Decimated.
The strong, struck down in battle. The weak pleaded for their lives, with those who had lost strewn around them.
They were killed anyway.
Only the four, the leader, the ones who were looked up to, the ones who had fought with the strength and power of the deities themselves, were spared.
Or rather, not spared.
For each are cursed.
Cursed to a fate far worse than those of their clanmates.

Pacifica.
Spared from the fate of her fellow leaders, this Pearlcatcher is strangely… untouched. Unharmed, perfect…or so it seems.
Pacifica is cursed to an eternity of serving the most sadistic, most corrupt of minds.
Torture, as she has learned, is a wonderful form of punishment.