Conceived in the black water swamps of Louisiana, her life was ripped from the womb of death and destruction. Her appearance was mostly human, a ruse planned far in advance. The swamp, her home, was a bubbling cesspool of superstition, suspicion, and accusation. She was a foul, sour presence, more creature than human, a thing so vile and loathsome that her name alone sent cold fear down the spine. She had a name and everyone knew it, but to mention it was to invite her in. She preferred being alone, but wasn't above capturing some poor soul too stupid to know any better. As evil as she was, she knew love, but a man by the name of Hubert Lusaw killed what she loved. He probably shouldn't have done that.