Izzy grew up knowing only war. Training to be a warrior, training to attack, training to make others bleed. Fighting tooth and claw no matter what. Ironic that her tribe was decimated by another, with her being a survivor and just by luck— playing dead and by using her father’s blood to cover her. No one could say that Izzy wasn’t a survivor, and she was off on her own as a young teen.

She traveled from Amol-Kalit to the Ixchel Wylds, learning that jungles could be far more dangerous than deserts, but yet she survived that, too. While in the Wylds she came across a group of explorers, and with her cat-like instincts and reflexes, was able to guarantee their success in keeping their lives. To thank her, they took her in, and that was how Izara, or Izzy as one woman lovingly called her, got into the business of searching for long lost treasures.

Of course, her new little makeshift family was torn apart after one particular temple-run near Mallia. Being chased by horrid werewolves on top of booby traps meant that the only one with the skill set to survive was Izzy. And once again she found herself all alone, but this time, the guilt was worse.