Fie is small and elven-featured, with ashen-grey skin like cool fireplace dust and long pink hair that streams behind her in loose, bright ribbons. Her orange eyes glow like embers seen through a keyhole. Two twisting, branch-like horns rise through her hair, their tips wrapped in tiny brass tags from old raiding trophies. Her broad, powdery moth wings have smoky patterns that blur when she banks through the air. She moves in sudden, loose-limbed darts, then lands with unnerving stillness. Up close she smells strongly of crushed mint and bowstring wax, a scent she knows perfectly well and insists is “good for morale.” For someone who commands a guard, she keeps a child’s painted wooden horse tucked into her belt, its paint rubbed away where her thumb worries it.

Fie is ambitious and funny, but her humor is often a blade used to control a room. She loves decisive action and hates being managed, yet she takes the Liberators' advice more seriously than she admits. With strangers she bargains and performs confidence; with her guards she is exacting but protective; with the Liberators she can be frank, teasing, and unexpectedly sentimental. She laughs at danger because she believes fear should be made useful, not because she fails to feel it.

Fie learned early that a fortune was only as safe as the mood of the person holding power over it. She raided in the service of the Shadow Fey Lord Oishin, building a hoard through patient ambushes and quick escapes, only to watch Oishin seize it on a whim. The loss taught her to distrust patronage and prize visible rank as much as treasure. She later followed the Shadow Dragon Rynskald into the mortal world, drawn by the promise of richer targets, and helped raid the deep gnome settlement of Greystone. When the Liberators defeated Rynskald, they spared her. Fie expected a trap, then a bargain; instead, they offered her a chance to choose what she did next. She chose to help them, first out of self-preservation, then because their stubborn loyalty began to feel like family. When they settled First Light and formed the Twilight Council, Fie stayed. The Council made her captain of the city guard, a position she has turned into a platform for ambition. She still sends coin and useful intelligence to the former Greystone survivors as restitution, though she refuses to call it guilt. Now she is impatient with disputes over stolen turnips and noisy neighbors, and presses the Council to let her lead dangerous expeditions deeper into the Underdark. She wants glory for First Light, but also wants a story large enough that nobody can casually take her place away.