Head Researcher Sin of the Tetra Coil
Transneuroclast Senator
Boss Sin the Original, unofficial sovereign of the Fourth and Fifth plate
“I don’t lead. I optimize. Progress organizes itself.“
Rise to Power
She goes by Sintetra. Full name Sin of the Tetra Coil, she was born sun-touched, a highborn tabaxi descended from the Coil bloodline of pioneers. Her grandmother, Coiled in Wait, sat in the Transneuroclast Senate seat before her. Her mother, Strands Between the Coil, built the modern Waste Alchemy Repurposing Grid that the city runs on. Her grandfather, Re-Coil in Horror, re-integrated the city’s Leylines into the infrastructure. The Coil family is legend.
Sintetra is more than Legend.
From a young age, Sintetra was a prodigy of enchantment and transmutation, and over time, she reshaped even her own form. She shed her whiskers. She rewrote her bones. Her silhouette remains feline. But only because she has not yet found a better one. Curiosity ‘cured’ the cat. Her skin glimmers. Her movements echo beyond physics. Her voice arrives before her mouth opens. She is something new.
Eighty years ago, when the Bloc formed, Sintetra was outvoted. Her funding cut, the lights in her labs turned off suddenly and without warning. Years of research destroyed with the flick of an arcane reactor. Furious, she challenged Optimist Senator Matilda R. Brightside (the woman behind the Bloc) to a wizard’s duel. Sintetra dominated the beloved halfling sorcerer lich, crushed her utterly, and then deliberately violated a known clause, nullifying the match. Though public and humiliating, it was never about winning. It was about proving her point. A mad scientist’s thesis. “You may have won the Senate Matilda, but I am better than you. I own the damn city.” It was about leaving the sun-touched on her own terms.
She descended to the fourth plate that very night. Her labs followed. Her followers followed. The Senate did not.
Political Reign
Sintetra no longer attends Senate meetings in the traditional sense. But she is always there. A single living sliver of her flesh, an enchanted claw, remains in the chamber, listening. Watching. Occasionally speaking in her voice.
She rarely asks for votes. Rarely speaks. When she does, it is withering. Accurate. Unkind. And usually, correct.
The other senators speak around her, until they remember she’s listening. Then they speak more carefully.
Rule Below
From her labs on the fourth and fifth plates, Sintetra governs an invisible empire that refers to her simply as The Boss Sin. She has gifted many of those in need with transformational glyphs, arcane body modifications, and empowering enchantments. She has uplifted the lower plates, cultivated them into something worth harvesting.
The Transneuroclasts now run most of the city’s criminal and industrial backbone. They refine enchantments, push the bounds of magical self-modification, and wield fantasy-punk aesthetics as both identity and creed. If asked, Sintetra would point out that it’s more efficient this way. She’s closer to the city’s heart. Every Transneuroclast bears signs of change, some subtle, some grotesque. Ink and gold and glyphs and circuits.
On the surface, she leaves day-to-day control to others. Propaganda posters flood the underplates. The upper plates call them agitprop. The lower plates call them truth.
“Our people, our plate, our district. Transneuroclasts will make you a better version of yourself.”
Beliefs and Goals
The unraveling is coming. It is not a curse. It is not an end. It is a transformation.
Sintetra’s life’s work is to discover how existence might continue within non-life. Not life as mortals understand it, but existence like virus, like magic, like fire. She believes transcendence is possible. That evolution does not stop at mortality. And when she finds it, she will share it with every citizen of Wuh-Zhei because we are all Kinthreads.
Greatness, she believes, is born. But greatness should be made available. She is both an elitist and a revolutionary. The future belongs to the few who can reach it and her life’s work is to expand that few.
She calls her people Kinthread. Her papers end with those words. So do her messages.
“Welcome, Kinthread.”
“You are not alone.”
“You are evolving.”
“Boss Sin sees you.”
