Name: Calamity (or so she says) Blackburn. Known to answer to Cal.
Age: Somewhere in her mid-twenties.
Race: Undetermined mutt.
Origins: Somewhere north of Louisiana.

(Please note that the following information is NOT common knowledge, and should not be used freely in RP unless you've convinced Cal to tell you about any of it. It's simply here to provide some insight, however little, about what kind of person she is and can be.)

Cal was fond of Tom Waits and rolling her own cigarettes. She wore the same pair of boots almost every day, and lived cozily in what most people would call, well.. a hovel. She'd come to possess this hovel in a curious manner. You see, when she'd finally grown up and wised up enough to ask about her daddy -- No, mom. My REAL dad. I know Dennis isn't my dad. He's white. YOU'RE white. -- her mother had sat her down and spun her a tale of a handsome man. A gator trapper, tall and thin, with skin as black as night and an accent warm enough to melt the morning frost. He had stolen her heart, and then her car, mama had told her, and left her with Cal in her belly.

"You'll find him in the swamp, down outside New Orleans," her mama had told her many years later, after near to a decade of Cal asking at least once a day about her father. Cal had gone looking, asking anyone she came across if they knew Roberto Beaumont. No one had, until she'd stumbled into a cafe one morning, looking for a cup of thick chicory coffee and a bite of breakfast. The woman behind the counter had been old and bent, with gnarled skin the color of potting soil, the whites of her eyes yellow and heavily veined. Cal had asked the woman the question she'd asked so many people, so many times, and the woman had straightened up as best she could and looked the girl in the face.

"Wha' you wan' go askin' bout Roboito Beaumon' fa, chil'?" the woman had asked her. Cal had sipped at her coffee, dutifully reciting her story. In the end, the woman had told her where to find her father, and she'd thanked her, rushing off to the outskirts of Hathian.

She'd found Roberto Beaumont, living in that hovel. At first, he'd tried to chase her off with a frog gig, until she'd yelled her mother's name at him from the bottom steps of his front porch. It had taken that much just to get him to let her say her piece. After, he had asked her a few questions, mostly about her mother. With his answers and the last of her breakfast in hand, he had looked at her calmly and told her he had no daughter. That she wasn't his baby or his little girl. He'd turned her out, meaning to send her on her way just as fatherless, if not more, than when she had come.

Angry, Cal had screamed at him. Called him all manner of ill names. She had cried, bartered and begged for a chance to know the man her mother had once loved. The man whose thick creole blood ran in her veins. Again, he denied her. Incensed... infuriated, Cal had stomped up those rotting steps and shoved the man through the door. He'd stumbled back through the door, banging his head on the corner of his own makeshift coffee table. The blow had knocked him out and split his scalp, that thick creole blood pooling beneath his head. That blood had not frightened or excited Cal, but it had calmed her. Brought a tiny glimmer of peace to the mind of a furious and frustrated woman. It was that moment of calm that had driven her to do what she had done next. With her full weight, she had driven a fire poker through his skull. Only the once, that was all it had taken.

Later that night she had dragged his body, a few feet at a time, out that front door. His heels had dragged through the trail of red brick dust sprinkled across his threshold. With much effort, sweat, and grunting, she'd hauled him up into the bed of his truck and driven him half a mile into the swamp to roll him unceremoniously into the muddy, still waters there. Left him for the gators that had made his meager living, wiped down the truck, and walked back to the little house.

That day, she had made his home her own. Every day thereafter, she had hiked her way into Hathian, playing the part of a bum and a traveler. Looking for friends and a new life. Her old family had fallen apart before she had truly ever been a part of it. This time, she was going to choose her own.