As a fourthborn daughter of a strict, constricting noble house, Thira was promised nothing. Would be nothing. So she left, with her compatriot Fitz, to be something else, something different. They traveled for a time together, committing heists, pulling cons. Fitz was the face, Thira was the brains. They had a few allies to call their muscle. Eventually, they built a new name for themselves and could’ve grown into an infamous syndicate of their own. But Fitz left, because again, he shirked responsibility in favor of chaos and freedom. So, Thira was left to run things on her own, hoping he’d come back around.

He died. Killed by vampires in some run-down nation filled to its brim with monsters and psychopaths. She got a letter, from him, sent in the event that he died or got in over his head, detailing his odd misadventures and the situation at hand. Thira cursed the vampires, cursed the gods, any and all who had led Fitz astray and used them for their own plans. She wanted revenge. And she would get it.

She set off for Gi’Gabi, aiming to take over whatever was left off Fitz’s businesses and cut down the ones who hurt Fitz: vampires, devils, and the gods themselves if need be. And she won’t let anything get in her way.